Page 97 of The Laird’s Lost Wife

“Good day to ye, men,” he greeted.

His chair waited at the head of the table, empty. He didn’t immediately take it. Instead, he walked around the room, glancing from face to face.

They all stayed silent, waiting for him to talk first. That was good. It was his right to speak first and lead the meeting. Anybody who tried to take his place would have hopes of leadership in mind.

“So,” he said shortly. “Ye all have heard of me impending marriage, aye? I will go ahead and say what is on everybody’s minds: ye are concerned about me vow.”

Murmurs rose from the table. Long looks were exchanged.

“It’s true, me Laird,” spoke up Peter Tatterhall, a scrawny, bald man with a face like a turtle. “We here all ken that ye swore a vow never to wed or sire children again. And now, if the rumors are to be believed, ye have a five-year-old daughter and plan to wed her mother.”

“Now, we daenae ken that is true,” another man chipped in. His name was Donald, a fiercely bearded middle-aged man who’d made a fortune in fabric trading. “Are we listening to gossip now?”

“I’ll nae lie to ye,” Hunter said firmly. “Willow is me child. Daphne is her mother, and we’re going to wed. These are the facts.”

The table fell silent.

With a gentle thunk, Magnus pushed the door shut and stood in front of it. Hands clasped, shoulders squared, his face remained grim, never quite meeting Hunter’s eyes.

He’s disappointed, Hunter thought, but only briefly. He didn’t care to let the thought take root. Now wasn’t the time for musing and reveries. Now he had a council to convince.

“So,” Donald said heavily, leaning back, “the vow is broken.”

Hunter inclined his head. “It is. But I broke half of it five years ago, when me daughter was conceived. I didnae ken it at the time.”

Peter threw up his hands. “Me Laird, ye are an oathbreaker. This is serious. No man can lead a clan while being an oathbreaker!”

As expected, that comment stirred a thunderous response.

Donald leaped to his feet, jabbing a finger at Peter. “How dare ye! What are ye implying, man? That the Laird should step down? Would ye keep an oath better?”

“Daenae challenge him,” snapped a weaselly man, every bit as bald as Peter. “As if ye had the right to say what’s good for us. Ye and yer vixen daughters have the clan’s balls in a vice-like grip with yer fabric business.”

“What a strange way of saying that ye cannae compete with me prices, Edward.”

Hunter sank down into his seat, letting the chaos unfold.

Some men shouted, gesturing wildly. Somebody dropped their wine goblet, and red liquid spilled across the table, soaking some papers. Another man grabbed the collar of the one beside him and began to shake him, hollering with fury, and he had to be hauled away by Donald.

When it became clear that the racket was going to go on for a while, Hunter leaned forward and slammed his fist down on the table with an echoing crack.

“Enough!” he thundered. “Be silent, all of ye! Jabbering like mad chickens. Clawing at each other. Fighting. We havenae met here today to air our grievances against each other. We are here to decide whether or nae I am fit to remain the Laird of Clan MacCrimmon.”

Silence fell at once. A dozen pairs of eyes swiveled to him. A dozen and one, counting Magnus. Not many guards were kept inside the council chambers, on account of the sensitive matters discussed. In fact, the only one that Hunter trusted was Magnus.

He leaned back again once he was sure the councilmen’s attention was focused on him.

“Oh, aye. I ken all about yer secret discussions,” he said heavily. “Ye discuss whether I should keep me title or nae. This is the matter we’re discussing today, nae whether or nae I have broken me vow. I freely admit that I have, even though I didnae realize it.”

“It’s only half broken,” spoke up a thin, pale fellow who looked no more than thirty, the youngest councilman out of them all. He glanced uncertainly around at the others. “Broken by accident, when the child was sired. And since the Laird didnae ken, we could argue that it was barely broken at all. And he never failed us in any way, did he? Never made us feel as if his attention was divided. If he doesnae marry the woman, then perhaps we could say the vow is only half broken.”

Hunter drummed his fingers on the table. They were all looking at him again, waiting, Magnus included.

If I refuse to marry Daphne, the business might stop here.

“The child may nae be yers,” Peter ventured, frowning. “After all, a woman who lies with one man will quite easily lie with another, so it’s likely that⁠—”

Boom.