Page 86 of The Highlander’s Tempting Touch

“I play at naething. Fergus MacTavish kidnapped Lady MacDuff from the Samhain rites. I went tae retrieve her.” Alistair leveled a glare at the man, and for once, Deermont had the sense to shut up. “As a result, me lady is safe and sound, and Clan MacTavish is without a laird. And nay heir tae claim the succession.”

“What? Ye cannae…” Alistair silenced Deermont with a growl.

“A leaderless clan on the borders, me laird… ye ken there will likely be raiders and refugees both in droves afore a moon has passed, especially with winter closing in.” That was another member of the Council, but one whom Alistair couldn’t see in the crowd around the courtyard.

“Aye. But I’ve nae intention tae see the clan left leaderless. MacTavish was a brute, but his people dinnae deserve tae languish fer his faults.” Alistair was fairly certain that Fergus MacTavish had been a large part of his clan-folk’s grief in any case, but a leaderless clan was generally an unhappy one. “However, as I killed him in a fair fight, and fer a good reason, ‘tis me place tae set a leader over the clan until such time as the claim is acknowledged outright, or another places a better claim tae the lairdship.”

He doubted the second would happen. Fergus was the sort to brook no rivals, within his clan or without.

“And who will ye be sending?”

“The best man for the job. The warrior and leader who was instrumental tae keeping me safe and helping me save Lady MacDuff. The man without which we might have failed or perished at Fergus MacTavish’s hands.”

He stepped back and set a hand on Ewan’s shoulder. “As soon as he’s had a chance tae rest and gather what he needs, me braither Ewan will be granted the title o’ Heir Apparent and Overseer o’ the MacTavish lands. If the claim holds, then by next summer, he will be the new Laird MacTavish, and the clan will become a cadet branch o’ our own.”

“Alistair…” Ewan’s voice was a mere breath, his eyes wide. “Ye cannae…”

“I can. And unless ye’ve some protest tae make against it, then I will.” Alistair clapped his brother on the shoulder. “Ye were raised a laird’s son, as I was, and ye’ve all the skills ye need. I ken ‘tis been difficult fer ye, growing up in me shadow, and I want ye tae have this chance tae find yer own way.”

“But… I… I’ve always been loyal tae ye…”

“And I’ve nae doubt ‘twill continue, even if ye equal me in rank next Samhain. Besides, if ye wish, ye can think o’ it in this manner - ye’ll secure the border in safety fer as long as we both live. In doin’ so, ye’ll protect me and our clan as well or better than ever ye could as me second-in-command. Ye may even, if ye find a lass ye like and bear children o’ yer own, ensure that the MacTavish and MacDuff clans are allied as kin fer generations tae come.”

Ewan stared at him. Then at the assembled Council who were, for the most part, nodding in approval. Then at the smiling faces of the warriors, all of whom deeply respected him as a leader - something Alistair knew quite well.

He might lose his best men to this decision - he would certainly lose the best friend and advisor he’d ever had at his side - but Ewan would have a chance to grow into his true abilities. And a chance to grow out of the insecurities that had haunted him all his life.

Ewan was loyal, and loving, but he deserved to move outside the shadows of his brother and his father. This was the perfect opportunity.

“If me laird commands…”

“I dae.” Alistair jerked his head at the doors to the castle. “Walk with me, and we’ll speak in private about what sort o’ plans would suit ye best. Winter is nae far off, and ‘twould be best if ye were settled intae yer new role by then.”

The two of them entered the castle and walked side-by-side to the study. Only when they were inside with the door closed, did Ewan speak. “Alistair… I…”

“Hush. Ye agreed, so I’ll hear nae more about it.” Alistair shook his head, then moved to pour them both a glass of whiskey. “Ye deserve this, braither.”

“I… I never…”

“Ye never expected tae be a laird, unless I died tragically without an heir. And ye’re too loyal and good-natured tae wish that. Even so, I’ve seen the shadows ye carry, the weight o’ bein a second son, never acknowledged fer yer talents. And I want tae change that.”

Alistair sipped his drink. “I’ve wondered, ye ken, what I could dae fer ye. Naething I ever thought o’ seemed tae be enough. But ye’ve supported me through thick and thin, and these past weeks ye’ve put up with me acting like a proper brute.”

When he looked, he could see the shadow of the bruise he had placed on his brother’s face, not so long ago. “I’ve treated ye poorly, and if ye cannae accept it as anything else, accept this as me apology, fer all I’ve put ye through.”

“There’s nay need o’ that.” Ewan shook his head. “Ye’re me braither. And I kent… even when I was angry, I kent it ‘twas nae me ye were lashing out at. I kent ye were frustrated by the Council, by Fergus MacTavish, and by the whole demand o’ marriage.”

“Even so, it wasnae right, how I handled it. I should have tak’n me anger tae the training dummies.” Alistair shook his head as Ewan started to protest. “If we were only braithers, perhaps I might think differently, but I am yer laird as well, and a laird shouldnae treat the men who serve him as I’ve treated ye. Ye deserve better, and I want ye tae have it.”

Ewan closed his mouth, then tipped his head in consideration. “’Twill be a difficult winter.”

“Most likely. There’s nay telling what state MacTavish left his clan in.”

“Nae a good state, if he was wastin’ his time tryin tae topple ye.” Ewan snorted. “’Twill be a fair mess, and I’ll be havin’ tae knock some heads taegether, I wager.”

“Likely as nae.” Alistair nodded. “But ye’ve practice enough with that.”

Ewan considered further. “Ye ken…even if I become Laird… ‘twill change naething. If ye need something from me, ye’ve but tae ask.”