Connor sat behind the heavy oaken desk in his study. David stood near the doorway, hands clasped behind his back.
David shook his head slowly. “Nae, me laird. The scouts we placed near McKay lands report nothin’ of consequence. The clansmen appear restless, aye, but there’s been nay sign of an attack or any plottin’ that reaches our borders.”
Connor exhaled, a faint relief washing over him, though he remained wary. “That is good,” he said, leaning back in his chair, fingers steepled.
David glanced at the papers strewn across the desk. “I’ve kept watch through the villages, the inns, and the roads most traveled. Nay whispers of McKay plans, nae suspicious activity.If there’s trouble brewin’, it’s well hidden from plain sight, Laird.”
Connor nodded, eyes narrowing slightly as he considered. “Ye cannae be too careful, David. Even a silent whisper could herald trouble. I have nae received word from McKay council and that concerns me. Quiet is sometimes more dangerous than a word of vengeance, for with vengeance ye ken where ye stand. Silence is unknowing.”
“I ken that, me laird,” David replied firmly, his tone steady, showing his loyalty. “That’s why I keep men in plain sight and others hidden, to listen and watch. So far, all is quiet.”
Connor rubbed his chin thoughtfully, staring at the faint scratches on the desk where old battles had been recorded.
“Quiet is good, but quiet can be deceivin’. Keep the men vigilant, and send me weekly reports. I want nay surprises.”
David inclined his head. “Aye, me laird. I’ll ensure they keep a close watch. If there are any signs of movement, we’ll know before it reaches us.”
Connor felt a sense of reassurance in David’s words, though the weight of responsibility never left him.
“Ye do well, David. The safety of me family, me clan, and me betrothed depends on eyes like yers. Let nay man or clan take advantage of the calm.”
David’s expression softened slightly at the praise. “Thank ye, Laird. I’ll nae let ye down. I have watched over ye long enough to ken what’s at stake.”
Connor’s gaze shifted to the distant hills visible through the window.
“And may the McKay lands remain still and their hearts quiet… for now.”
David nodded solemnly and stepped toward the door. “Aye, me laird. I’ll ride out and check the northern passes as well, to be certain.”
Connor returned to his maps, tracing fingers along the familiar lines of border and road. But before David could leave, there was a knock at the door.
“Enter.” The door creaked open, and a young servant stepped inside, holding a folded piece of parchment. He approached the desk with careful steps and handed it to Connor without a word, bowing slightly. Connor took it, noting the hurried scrawl that marked the writing, and unfolded it, his eyes scanning the lines quickly.
After reading, Connor looked to David. “It seems I’m being requested in the library,” Connor said, tucking the paper under his arm.
David raised a brow. “Lady McLaren?” he asked with a hint of amusement.
Connor shook his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Nay, me brother Michael. He’s been goin’ through the family archives and has many questions. It seems he has another he would like to discuss.”
David chuckled lightly, giving Connor a firm nod. “Then I’ll be off,” he said, stepping toward the door.
Connor watched him leave, a measure of whiskey catching his eye on the desk. He poured himself a small dram, letting the warmth slide down his throat, and then set it aside. He left the study and headed for the library, anticipation and concern mingling in his chest.
He entered the library. Dust motes floated lazily in the air, disturbed only by Connor’s purposeful steps on the stone floor.
Michael sat at one of the long tables, a pile of open manuscripts before him, a quill in hand. He looked up as Connor approached, a mixture of curiosity and seriousness in his young eyes.
“Brother, thank ye for comin’ so quickly,” Michael said.
“Ye wanted to see me?” Connor asked, setting down the paper and resting his hands on the table.
“Aye,” Michael replied, pushing a parchment toward Connor. “I found this in the archives and wanted to ask about it. It says that our faither often went to McKay lands. Do ye ken why?”
Connor studied the lines for a moment, then shook his head slowly. “I daenae ken why,” he said finally. “Other than what Jack said about faither lustin’ after Jack’s wife, but it seems there was a good relation between the two clans before the throes of a love affair got in the way.”
Michael’s eyes darkened with a hint of longing. “I wish that it could be that way again,” he said quietly, tracing a finger along the edge of the parchment.
Connor inclined his head, understanding the sentiment. “Do ye miss Castle McKay?” he asked gently.
