Page 36 of Enchantment of a Highlander

He followed the servant through halls he remembered from his childhood and emerged in the open space of the great hall where Laird MacDougall sat at the head of the table.

Several men sat at the table around him. Men who came from noble families, who had created legends of themselves in battles.

Men who made begging for help that much more cowardly.

MacDougall rose and beckoned Alec closer with a wave of his hand. The old man’s hair had gone white since the last time they’d met.

“Alec.” MacDougall lifted his hands in the air. “Laird MacLean. I wondered if ye’d return.”

Alec locked arms with the old man, but MacDougall pulled him in for a solid embrace.

“I’m glad ye did.” He released Alec and indicated the vacant seat at his right. “Join us.”

Alec sank into the seat with a grateful nod and immediately had a mug of frothy ale placed before him.

The welcome was far more than he’d expected. Far more than he deserved, given the tumultuous relationship MacDougall had once had with Alec’s father.

“Saraid said ye’d be coming by.” The laird winked at him. “She’s still got quite a fancy for ye, ye know.” Alec sipped his ale. It was cool and wet against the dryness of his throat. “I’m glad ye agreed to see me. My da dinna exactly leave a trail of friends.”

MacDougall lifted his hands. “The sins of the father are no that of the son.”

Silence settled between them. Heavy silence. One that left the gazes of the surrounding men pressing on Alec.

He didn’t want to be in this position, damn it. He hated having to ask for help.

But he was in this position.

“Ye arrived much more quickly after yer da’s death than I’d anticipated.” MacDougall rubbed the side of his middle finger with the pad of his thumb.

“Aye, I was closer than I expected to be.” A fact he was now grateful for lest his people have suffered longer without his presence.

“How have ye found Duart since yer return?”

A hot swell rose up in Alec’s gut and he didn’t know if he was grateful or irritated the laird was nudging him toward the conversation they needed to have.

“It isna the place I remember,” Alec said finally.

MacDougall nodded and the wisps of his thin hair caught against the silver whiskers on his jaw. “Indeed it isna the same.”

Alec clenched his jaw.

Damn it.

He drew a deep breath and thought of his people, of the havoc the attacks had wreaked on his land.

“There have been a lot more attacks now than there ever were before,” Alec confessed.

“Yer da let a lot of evil come onto his land.” MacDougall took a sip from his goblet and set it down again before speaking. “I tried to help, but he threatened war every time.”

His hand rested on Alec’s arm. The veins were deep blue lines swelling beneath the paleness of his aged skin.

“I want to help ye.” MacDougall’s sharp gray eyes fixed on Alec. “We can band our forces together. Be stronger together, have more land to clear, more clout with the other lairds to encourage the same. Together we can rise strong and keep our people safe.”

Alec’s heart pumped faster with the prospect. He had expected to beg, not be offered an alliance.

“We can help each other.” MacDougall withdrew his hand. “I’ve got a problem too, ye see.”

The hope that had surfaced so quickly now gave way to the chill of wariness.