Page 45 of Lady Len and the Mysterious Mac

“If I have no sons, it will pass to him.”

“Then pray ye have sons, lad. This life isnae for Bram.”

“And it is for me?” Guilt over his intention to never have any children washed over him. If Bram had none either, then what would become of the Kintail? Who would Bram train in his place? The children of Blair MacKenzie?

“I ken you’ve no appetite for battle, but perhaps those days are behind us. James tried and failed.”

“And if he tries again?”

“The men will follow you.”

“Because of my size, you mean, and nothing else? No matter what’s here”—he pointed to his head—“or here,” he added, pointing to his heart. “If that’s so, they’re a worthless lot indeed.”

“Don’t ever speak of your clan in such a way,” his father shouted—or would have done if he’d had the breath to do it.

“My own wife has the good sense to want to escape from me. What makes you think the MacKenzies will be any different?”

“Take your nonsense somewhere else, boy, I’ve no time for it.” His father huffed, folding his arms and turning away.

“It’s true.” His voice racked. “She wishes to leave.”

“Well and why wouldn’t she, when she supposed she had wed a leader of men and not a cowardly whelp?” Alex snapped, collapsing against his pillow in a brutal fit of coughing.

Si cast his eyes to the ceiling, his jaw working double time to bite back every hurtful, angry retort.

Then he poured a cup of water for his father, who drank deeply, his cough finally subsiding.

“Ye have a way with words, Silas. Could be it’s only because you’re so sparse with them, but when ye speak, people listen. Ye’ve been that way since you were a boy. Your size may make them stop, make them hear. But it’s you that commands them to listen. And all that learning… all that learning means you’ve something to say.”

Si had no response. His size alone could command a room merely by entering it, his size alone made them listen whether he had anything important to say or not. His size meant he broke everything he touched, and he would break the clan too.

“Bram can learn—”

“Bram has his head in the clouds. Och, it’s more than that,” his father went on. “Bram’s a selfish little shit, God love him. He was coddled from birth, given every wee thing he could wish for.”

“He’s not a bad lad—”

“He’s not. And he may well grow up to be a fine man. But his instinct is to think of himself first, and whatever he’s got left after that he can spare for others. You’ve always had a knack for seeing what people need, even before they know it themselves. And don’t say, ‘what they need is Bram,’ or I swear on your poor mother’s grave I will get out of this bed and tan your backside. Don’t think I won’t. I don’t care how big or how old ye are.”

Si raked a hand through his hair. “All right, Da,” he sighed.

“This’ll be the last we say on it, aye?” his father asked, but it wasn’t really a question.

“Aye. Certainly don’t want you to throw your shoulder out waving your belt around,” Si teased, and his father laughed at his impudence. It was good to hear him laugh. Si hadn’t realized how much he’d missed the sound of it, deep and rumbling. It made him feel like a little boy.

Besides, the old man seemed better. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, taking on the role with his father there to guide him.

“Aye, we’ll say no more,” he said again.

“Good. Now I dinnae ken what’s happened between you and yer lass, but ye’ll have a lifetime of differences so you may as well learn how to sort them out now. I hear her sometimes, humming to herself. She doesn’t seem the sort to try and be unhappy.”

“Aye.”

“She’s a good one, Silas. Don’t fuck it up.”

* * *

All her life, Wee Ellen was the quiet one. Growing up, Jory spoke for both of them before Ellen was even old enough to speak. Then along came Maggie with more words than a dictionary would know what to do with, and there simply wasn’t much need for Ellen to speak loudly or often.