Page 12 of The Lass and the Laird

"We have visitors," Ian spoke, his posture erect, alert. "It looks to be a man with guards."

Declan narrowed his eyes. "Could it be Stuart already? Go forth, I will go to the stables and await word."

His friend gave him a flat look. "If I am to pretend to be you, I need a flower in my hair."

"Ian."

"Aye, I will save your arse this time. But remember, you will return the favor if ever I require it."

An hour later, Declan sat at the high board for the first time. The McNeil laird to his left and Ian on the right. The laird came to pay his respects, yet Declan suspected there was another reason for the visit, which would be divulged later.

The McNeil stood tall, his broad form matching Declan's. With reddish hair made lighter by the candle fire, Declan had to admit he cut a fine figure. He guessed the man to be about ten years his senior. Still, a young laird. It was best to form friendships if the peace were to continue in the region.

Liam McNeil bent his head and leaned close. "I bring a proposition to bind our clans closer. My eldest daughter is of marrying age, soon to be ten and eight. If you are not betrothed, I propose you and she wed."

"I will consider it and thank you for the kind offer." Declan was indeed surprised. Uniting with the great Clan McNeil would, indeed, be fortunate.

He relayed the information to Ian who cocked a brow. "That would be a good union. I'd accept if I were you."

"I prefer not to appear too anxious," Declan replied and turned back to the McNeil. He raised his glass and got everyone's attention. "Warm welcomes to Moriag. I thank the McNeil and his men for visiting. Slainte!"

The men in the room returned loud responses and drank heartily.

The night was dark. Clouds converged and it rained hard, making it unmanageable for the McNeils to return home. The guards slept in the great room while the visiting laird was shown to a room upstairs down from Declan’s.

Alone in his chamber, Declan finally had time to think. The move to Moriag was turning out well indeed. He could marry well, form a union with the McNeils which would not only be favorable for him, but for the Gordons of the north as well.

Mind filled with thoughts, he tossed and turned. Sleep eluded him so he left his bed and went to the window to peer out. It was a peaceful place, his new home.

Although he was careful and placed two sentries atop the keep's walls, it was probably not necessary here. Nonetheless, he continued the tradition his mother and brother set forth. The sentries were proud of their work and appreciated the much-needed income it provided for their families.

Meredith Stuart was, in all probability, upon her bed. Was she alone? Declan dragged his fingers through his hair. Why should he care what the crafty lass did? Then again, if she was, indeed, ignorant of who he was and accepted him thinking he was a poor man, the better she was suited for a wife. Perhaps, instead of wily, she was taking matters in hand and, as she said, sought to marry a man of her choosing.

Of course, none of this mattered if he married the McNeil lass. He groaned at the prospect of marrying a homely woman, whose father was forced to find a husband for. Then again, it could be that she was comely, but without prospects.

There was Aiden Stuart. As far as he'd been told, the young laird was unmarried as well. Why hadn't the McNeil approach him first? Perhaps he had, but the McNeil's daughter was so unattractive, Stuart had declined.

Sure he'd not find sleep, he considered finding Awena to warm his bed. Bedsport would, indeed, set things right. The maid was a lusty sort, already having warmed several of his men's beds.

He stalked to the door and down the stairs and stopped short at spotting the McNeil guards sprawled on the floor, some snoring loudly.

A hound neared and whined softly. He patted the animal's head. "How about you and I walk about?" The animal's tail wagged and he took it as a yes.

* * *

"You will go with me to the Gordon Keep on the morrow. And that's final." Aiden Stuart paced the study, his hair comically standing on end after much finger raking. She'd hoped that he'd changed his mind about the dreaded visit to the Gordon, but it seemed he continued as stubborn as ever.

"I have told you. I will not come with you only to be made a spectacle of, Aiden. I agreed to allow you to see about his willingness to marry, but not for you to go and ask it outright." Meredith had to admit she'd never seen him so cross. In her opinion, the one who needed marrying was her brother. Perhaps a wife could help his disposition. "I don't understand your hurry, brother. It was not my fault the man I married died. And you cannot blame me for attempting to find a husband of my choosing."

"Bah, women don't get such choices. I will not allow you to marry some peasant who happens upon our village. You will marry well. The Gordon, if I have my way. He is unmarried and is, in all probability, seeking a wife."

"In all probability? We will not know until we ask. Allow more time to pass, I beg of you. Just a few weeks." Meredith pictured the light-haired man who traveled with her dark lover. Although handsome as Lily had described, she found her dark-haired lover much more attractive.

"What can you tell me about this stranger you were found with?"

She felt like a dolt for not having asked his name. Instead, she'd been too overcome by his features and attraction to form a coherent thought. "I am sure the man I met is not a peasant, says he is a friend of Laird Gordon. Can you not, at least, considering meeting him?"

"Nay." By the set of Aiden's jaw, she knew he'd not see reason. Meredith huffed and went to the door. "You are stubborn beyond words. The new laird, I'm sure, has better prospects than me. He will turn you down, so I will worry only that you will be made a fool."