Page 14 of Her Highlander's Darkest Temptation
“Why were they after ye? What would Cameron want with an English serving lass?”
“I do not know. They did not say.” Lydia looked away from the inquisitive members of the Council.
“Why would an English serving lass be traipsin’ about the Highlands, eh, girl?” That was Elder McKennah, a scowl on his lined features. “Why did ye nae stick tae yer own side o’ the border?”
“A friend suggested I travel this way.” Lydia glanced up, seemed to note that there were tankards in need of filling, and took up a bottle. Donall gestured her away when she moved to refill his cup, wondering how many of the elders would note the grace of her movements.
MacEvoney did, and his frown deepened. “Ye’re nay simple serving lass. Nae even the English train their serving wenches tae walk so carefully.”
“I worked for a lady. My duties and training were… unusual.” The brief hesitancy of her words made Donall frown, wondering if it was shyness or something else that made her speech sound uncertain.
“Unusual? Ye act more like a lady than her maid.” MacEvoney snorted, suspicion and disgust spreading across his weathered face. “How dae we ken yer nae a spy fer the English, or fer Cameron?”
“Ye ken she’s nay spy because I’ve claimed her an’ given sanctuary, an’ I’ve more wit than that.” Donall met MacEvoney’s eyes. “The lass is workin’ with me personal maid, an’ I trust Maisie would tell me if she had suspicions.”
“The word o’ a maid…”
“Is as good as the word o’ any other man—an’ mayhap better than some.” Donall growled the words out. “Mind yer manners, Elder MacEvoney.”
McKennah huffed. “A proper Highland lass, I’ll grant ye is trustworthy enough. But an English wench who daesnae act much like a maid…”
“She’s still under me protection. An’ if that’s nae good enough fer ye, then ye’re welcome tae challenge me lairdship, though I warn ye ye’ll nae fare better than ye did afore.” Donall’s glower met McKennah’s. As he’d expected, it was the elder who looked away first.
They knew not to challenge his leadership. There’d been challenges enough when he’d returned from his time in the king’s dungeons, and he’d emerged victorious from them.
They also knew that, whether they supported his lairdship or not, if he was ousted it would only leave them vulnerable to being taken over by another clan. At best, Clan MacLean would return to take permanent stewardship of the lands. At worst, another clan, such as Clan Cameron, would conquer them and take land and people for their own, leaving the name of Clan Ranald as nothing more than a ghost and a whisper within the Highlands.
A brief look around the table told him that no one else wished to challenge his pronouncement. After a moment, Donall leaned back in his chair, waiting for Lydia to finish serving and return to her place before he gestured for her to take the flagons for refilling.
Once she was gone, he continued the meeting. “The lass daesnae matter so much, nae compared tae the greater problem.Cameron raiders were on our land. Whatever their reason, fer them tae be attackin’ folk within our borders is a serious matter.”
“Aye. An’ there’s been nay warning, nay overt aggression, nay approach fer talks or challenge.” Ewan agreed. “There’s nay feud been stated, or even a reason fer the possible beginnin’ o’ one.”
“Perhaps it was an isolated band? Warriors chafin’ fer a fight, or even bandits tryin’ tae start trouble between clans tae mask their own actions?” One of the younger elders, Donovan Craglin, spoke up.
“’Tis a possibility,” Donall agreed. Certainly, the prospect was better than the idea that Laird Cameron was stirring up trouble for reasons of his own—or that he might have a new enemy on his borders. His clan was ill-prepared to handle a feud or a border war.
“I would believe it, but there’s somethin’ else tae consider,” Ewan spoke heavily. “Some o’ the scouts returned afore the meeting started—they encountered scouts from Clan Cameron at the border. Even spoke tae one o’ them, a younger fellow.”
“And what did he say?” Donall frowned.
“Said he kent naething abou’ raiders, but that Laird Cameron had more men…” Donall chopped his hand down to silence his second as the door opened to readmit Lydia with the full flagons.
He wondered how much she'd heard, but her expression was downcast, focused on her work, and there was no way to tell. Nevertheless, he gave Ewan a slight shake of the head. “Tell the men tae ride frequent patrols, an’ tae keep a close watch fer signs of raiders or bandits. We dinnae need either in our lands.”
Ewan nodded, as did the rest of the council members. Alexander settled back in his seat, a thoughtful frown on his face.
The rest of the meeting was mercifully short—the Elders gave a brief update on the lands they watched over, and they held a brief discussion about crops and the welfare of the clan—they were managing, but were not as prosperous as Donall might have wished.
Through it all, Lydia remained a quiet, attentive shadow by the hearth, just as a servant should be.
Eventually, the meeting came to an end, and the Elders departed, leaving Donall alone with Lydia, Alex, Ewan and his thoughts.
Cameron riders on the borders posing as raiders. There's somethin’ driving Laird Cameron tae act assuming I'm involved,but I dinnae ken what, or why. An’ I certainly dinnae ken how or if Lydia is part o’ it.
I better find answers afore disaster finds this clan.
CHAPTER SEVEN
