Entering the bailey, a young page ran up to him. “Master Rory, yer father awaits yer return. He wishes to speak to ye immediately.”
Rory furrowed his brow. “Did he say why?” He questioned.
The lad shook his head. “Nay, only that ye were to see him as soon as ye were back. He doesnae wish ye to do aught else.”
Rory cleared his throat and pushed his hands through his hair. What could his father possibly want now? Unless his mother had talked Arthur into trying to dissuade him from his mountain and rock climbing. It wouldn’t be the first time, and he was for certs that it would not be the last time either. But the page spoke with an undertone of urgency, so Rory doubted his required presence was due to his activities.
In the Great Hall, his father stood, tall and strong, fiery red hair crowning his head with a bushy beard to match. His barrel arms were crossed as he spoke.
“I thought it best I meet ye at the door to ensure that ye actually come and meet me.” His words weren’t harsh. They held a hint of mirth behind them and when he smiled, Rory kenned that the subject of the time he spent outside and away from Hartsmoor wasn’t going to be the topic of conversation.
“Let us go to my study.” He looked around, as if searching for someone, and appearing to be happy that whoever it was, wasn’t about, he asked, “How was yer climb today?”
Rory felt the tension ease a bit from his shoulders. “’Twas a good day,” he answered, stretching his neck from side to side.
He followed his father into his study and shut the door behind them when Arthur waved his hand for him to do so.
“I am glad ye had a pleasant climb.” Arthur sat down at his massive desk, piled high with ledgers and account books. “I must say I am happy that ye returned earlier than usual. I need ye to go to the village.”
Rory frowned. “What for?”
Arthur tapped his index finger on the desk for a few long moments. If Rory didn’t ken him any better, he would think that he was contemplating what he was going to say. But that wouldn’t be the Arthur he kenned. Nay, the Arthur he kenned always kenned what to say. No matter the situation, Arthur was always there with the right words.
Arthur formed a fist and rested it gently on the desktop. “There has been an accident—”
Rory pushed out of the chair he had been sitting in and straightened. “Is it ma? Alpin? Eilidh or Morven?” Nay, if it were a Hart family member, his father would have gone himself and not waited for Rory to return. Though a messenger would have been waiting for him when he arrived to send him to meet them.
“Or is it Moira? Did that MacLeod bastard hurt Moira? I will kill him,” Rory threatened as he clenched his fists.
His father raised an eyebrow and motioned for him to sit back down.
“Nay, the family is fine. Though I would advise ye to choose yer words wisely when speaking of Laird MacLeod. He is now yer brother-in-law.”
Rory dropped back into the chair, his anger ebbing at the relief of learning his sister fared well. He still held lingering doubts about her new husband, even if his sister seemed blissfully happy in her new marriage.
“There was a carriage accident outside of the village. A woman, she is a wee bit bruised, but otherwise unharmed when her carriage overturned.”
Rory shrugged, unable to understand why that was any of his concern. Carriages overturned on a nearly daily basis. He had never been called upon for one afore.
“She is demanding help to be transported to her betrothed, which is where she was traveling to when the accident occurred.”
“Demanding transport?” Rory did not like where this conversation was headed. Anyone demanding aught of the Harts was clearly someone of higher standing. No one else would dare to make such a demand. Irritation filled him. He could not stand nobles and the entitlement they seemed to carry around with them like a shield wherever they went. Dealing with them was a nightmare. “’Tis quite forward of them, dinnae ye think?”
Arthur sighed heavily. “This is something ye must do.”
Rory shook his head. “Nay. I willnae.”
“I am demanding that ye escort her. ’Tis no’ up for debate. Ye will heed my command, son.”
Straightening in the chair, Rory studied his father’s face. In all his years he couldn’t remember a time when his father gave him a direct order such as this.
“Why cannae one of our warrior’s assist the woman? We haveplenty. For certs we could spare one or two to play watcher of this woman who feels so entitled that she can make demands of clan Hart.Of Laird Hart.”
“She may be entitled. Hell, she may be a thorn in yer side for the length of yer travels, howe’er, her family has connections. Weel tied connections that could serve us weel. Providing assistance will show goodwill and that can go a long way for us in the future. Ye ne’er ken when we may need to call upon them.”
Rory rolled his eyes. “Is she a lady, then?”
“No’ yet. But she is betrothed to the MacDonell son.”
