Page 48 of The Highlander’s Dangerous Desire

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

“Tell me about Gael MacTavish.” Ewan watched his brother pour two drinks, then settled into one of the chairs by the fire. “I ken he’s said tae be o’ a bastard or cadet line, wed with a child, but nae much more.”

“He’s all o’ those things. But he never claimed the kinship afore now, which is a troublin’ matter. Granted, he may nae have wished tae confront Fergus - an’ who would fault him that - but he didnae come forward even as a loyal kinsman, an’ that’s what troubles me, and many o’ the lairds I’ve spoken tae.”

Ewan would have liked to assume the worst, but being the overlaird of a clan meant he had to consider all possible explanations, whether he liked them or not. “He might have feared Fergus would see him as a potential rival. Didnae want tae endanger his wife and child.”

“Aye. But I’ve heard other things. Rumor has it he’s well enough off tae have a small band o’ soldiers under his command, independent o’ laird and clan. I cannae speak tae the truth o’ that, but if the rumor has the right o’ it…” Alistair trailed off.

Ewan scowled. If the rumor was true, it could be proof that Gael MacTavish had intended to rise against the rightful laird of Clan MacTavish, or against the man who’d conquered the clan. Such rumors might damage Gael’s standing, implying that he had no loyalty or honor, since he hadn’t offered his services to either the previous laird or Ewan himself.

On the other hand, he might also say he had simply had no opportunity to offer that service, and the soldiers might be seen as a force intended to win back MacTavish Clan’s independence, and to protect him if he secured the lairdship.

“Dae ye think he can win a contest o’ arms? If the rumors are accurate?”

Alistair shook his head. “Nay. I dinnae think the warriors o’ the main branch o’ the clan would follow him. Nae when they’ve sworn tae ye. And nae when there are options other than fighting within the clan tae resolve the lairdship. Ye’ve agreed tae abide by the ruling o’ the Highland Gathering and the Council o’ Elders, so he has nay reason tae resort tae violence.”

Alistair’s words were comforting, but warriors were not the main challenge Gael presented, and Ewan knew it. He took a sip of his drink, then looked to his brother. “Ye ken what the true problem is - the true reason the Council will consider him, nae matter what the rumors.”

“Aye.” Alistair nodded. “The man’s already secured a path tae having an heir.”

Ewan nodded. “The continuation o’ the lairdship is just as important tae the MacTavish Elders as the bloodline and the ability tae lead, especially now that they’ve faced nae having a proper heir due tae Fergus’s death without a successor.”

Alistair sighed. “An heir – ‘tis the thing every Council o’ Elders worries most about, savin’ only the laird’s ability tae use his body and his mind tae lead properly. If they cannae fret o’er yer competence as a leader, o’ course they’ll fret o’er who will follow ye.”

Ewan glanced at his brother. “Ye say that as if they’ve nay reason tae question me ability as laird.”

“They dinnae. I’ve read the reports o’ how ye’ve handled clan matters, includin’ late harvest, winter storms, an’ planting season. And how ye’ve settled disputes, Gael MacTavish nae withstanding. Ye’re a good, steady laird, with a good eye tae solving the problems that arise, an’ more skill in commanding an’ caretaking than ye’ve let yerself see.”

Ewan felt his cheeks grow hot under the unexpected praise. “I dinnae ken…”

Alistair scoffed. “I dae. I spoke tae yer man Devlin, while ye were away, an’ yer steward. Though they’ll nae say it tae loudly, both tell me that the servants and the warriors are happier under yer command an’ care than they ever were with Fergus. They’ve been hard trained never tae offer an opinion that isnae asked fer, but they’re fair loyal tae ye, fer all ye’re a conqueror’s braither an’ laird fer less than a year.”

Ewan swallowed. He’d wanted to believe that he had made a favorable impression on his people, but he’d also been afraid to think so. What if he wasn’t the leader he wanted to be?

Alistair reached across and clapped him on the shoulder. “Ye’re a good leader. Ye think o’ yer clan an’ tak’ proper care o’ them.”

The praise filled him with warmth, but it also reminded him of the issue at hand. “Nae so good a leader, if I cannae or willnae provide them with certainty fer the future.” He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “I never wanted tae tak’ a wife fer the sake o’ clan politics, but if ‘tis necessary tae keep the clan from the hands o’ another like Fergus - an’ if Gael is the type o’ man I fear he is, ‘twill be necessary - then I need tae consider tak’ng a wife.”

Alistair grimaced in sympathy. “’Tis never an easy choice - tae wed fer love or need. Have ye anyone in mind?”

Grace… Ewan shoved the thought away. Grace was not an option. “I havenae considered the matter much afore. I always thought I’d have more time tae settle intae me position afore I had tae worry about it.”

“I ken the feeling.” The two of them shared a wry smile, remembering Alistair’s many arguments with the MacDuff Council of Elders on the matter of his marriage, and the debates that had passed between them as well. There had been heated words on all sides, even after Niamh had come to Castle MacDuff. “But if ye want proof that ye’re a good laird, then ye should realize that the fact ye’re willin’ tae set aside yer feelings on the matter fer the sake o’ the clan’s needs… well, ‘tis what bein’ a laird is all about, an’ ye’ve apparently learned the lesson sooner than I did.”

Ewan’s throat felt tight. He had spent so long living in Alistair’s shadow, following his brother and seeking his approval. Alistair’s obvious pride in his leadership of the MacTavish clan made him feel warm.

Alistair smiled at him, his expression far more open and kinder than it had ever been before Niamh had entered their lives. “Ye’re doin’ well, Ewan. And I’m proud o’ ye. Gael MacTavish is a problem, aye, but we’ll sort it out.”

“Nae so easy, unless ye’ve a wife I can claim. Grace Lancaster is…” The words stuck in Ewan’s throat. He swallowed hard and forced himself to speak through the ache. “I told the clan elders I was courtin’ her, but ye and I both ken she’s only here tae visit Niamh. ‘Tis nae more than a falsehood tae keep her safe and avoid too many questions about why I was away fer so long.”

Alistair raised an eyebrow. “Ye sound as if ye wish it were more.”

Ewan flushed. “Nay. I’ll own she’s more tolerable than most English lasses - an’ we’ve become friends o’ a sort over the journey, but ‘tis nay more than that.”

“Because it hasnae had a chance tae become more, or because ye have nay interest in her?” Alistair’s question felt like an arrow to the gut.

“Because it is nay more than courtesy an’ perhaps friendship.” Ewan took a desperate gulp of his drink. “She’s an English lass, an’ I’m a Highlander born. We dinnae have much in common, save our connection tae Niamh.”