"Why did you call this meeting?" he asked them.
"We need to discuss a few things," Sir Hugh said.
"Very well," Neacal said. "Which things? Farquar's death?"
Hugh waved a hand. "We believe you on that score. Several of the men said he was a menace and disloyal to you. I say you handled the situation well, all things considered."
"I thank you for that." Neacal relaxed marginally at the small victory. But if this wasn't about Farquar, what did they wish to discuss?
"Things are going very well, chief," Uncle Bhatar said in that placating way which only irritated Neacal more.
"I'm glad you think so, but that can't be what this is about."
Hugh inhaled a deep breath and let it out dramatically, as if he dreaded what he was going to say. "'Tis time we started searching out a bride for you."
A sudden spark of anger burst through Neacal. "A bride?" He demanded. "I've been chief for less than a month!" Were they all mad?
"'Tis never too early."
Bhatar leaned forward. "Is e fortan no mìfhortan fir bean."A man's wife is his fortune or misfortune.
Hugh nodded. "So we must find one who will bring fortune to us all. She must be the rightladyfor the clan."
Neacal ground his teeth. Why had Hugh placed emphasis onlady? Had it something to do with Anna? That they thought he would want to marry her, a commoner with no connection to a powerful clan?
God's teeth! Neacal wanted to throw something.
Regardless of whether Anna had caught his attention or not, the last bloody thing he wanted to think about right now was looking for a bride. He already had enough to keep him busy. He had always enjoyed women, of course, like any man. But a bride was something entirely different. As they said, she must be the right lady for the clan, not the right lady forhim.No one would care what he thought of her. 'Twas more like a political office rather than a love affair. She must be highborn and proper, from an important clan.
Any such lady would see him as mad and barbaric. Considering his scars, she would think she was being sacrificed to a beast.
Forcing himself to speak with infinite patience, he said, "I'm going to wait a while longer before I start the search." He arose from his chair. "If that is all."
"Not quite," Hugh piped up.
Fists clasped to the chair back, he forced himself to stand in place and not lash out at the elder.
"As you well know, a bride can bring an ally and many strong soldiers to our clan. This we need above all else."
Damnation. Neacal hated to admit they were right. Regardless, 'twas too soon. He'd much rather ask his foster brother for assistance than to marry a lass who might make him miserable. He could also call on the MacKenzies for help, if worse came to worst. They were strong allies.
"You ken we make a good point," Hugh persisted.
Annoyance flamed over Neacal. "I will consider a bride when the time is right," he growled. "And now is not the right time. End of discussion." He strode from the room and slammed the door. If they wanted to replace him as chief, so be it. He would not be ordered around by them. To even imagine dealing with a wife right now set his teeth on edge.
***
That night, Anna climbed the dimly lit stairs after Tavia had applied another poultice and a new dressing to the burn on her ankle. It was healing well but still pained her.
She had not had the opportunity to speak with Neacal all day. When she had seen him, he'd looked especially vexed. He had spent most of the day training in the bailey with his men.
The evening's entertainment was over and everyone was retiring for the night. She heard a few distant voices as she passed the great hall, but then someone close-by murmured, "The daft bastard would not allow Sleat entrance. And then he killed the guard."
Anna froze in the darkened corner. They had to be discussing Neacal.
"He's nay daft; he's mad," another man said.
"Aye, 'tis true."
