Page 43 of Unforgotten
“Exactly,” MacKinnon growled. “When even a clan-chief cannot travel unmolested, things are grim indeed.”
“The roads to the north have become more dangerous of late,” Alasdair MacDonald spoke up. The youngest of the men at the table, Alasdair wore an inscrutable expression.Clever lad, Gavin thought.Don’t trust any of them. Alasdair’s gaze swept around the table, a challenge in his blue eyes. “Although we didn’t encounter any outlaws on the way here.”
“Criminals will always exist,” Fraser muttered, taking another gulp of wine. “What are ye going to do, MacKinnon, stamp them all out?”
“Outlaws and cutthroats abound on this isle these days,” MacKinnon replied, his dark brows knitting together. “Twice over the last six months, supplies that have come in from the mainland have been attacked.”
“What did they rob ye of?” MacQueen, a heavyset man with wild dark hair, spoke up then.
MacKinnon screwed his face up. “The usual … silver, as well as grains and livestock.”
“Maybe they were hungry,” Niall MacDonald pointed out. He was a tall, lean man of around fifty winters with pale blond hair tied back at his nape. “Ye tax folk too heavily, MacKinnon.”
It was a bold statement, and Gavin felt the temperature at the table drop as a result.
MacKinnon met the older man’s challenging stare, his own narrowing. Gavin had heard that there was no love lost between these two either. They shared a border and there had been skirmishes between them over the last few years. A rumor also circulated the isle that MacKinnon had wished to wed MacDonald’s eldest daughter but had been thwarted.
However, watching the way MacKinnon looked at MacDonald now, the way the muscles flexed in his jaw, Gavin knew that the slight hadn’t been forgotten.
“Theft is theft,” MacKinnon eventually bit out the words. He then tore his gaze from Niall MacDonald’s and let it travel over the other faces at the table. “Brigands must be dealt with.”
“And how do ye suggest we do that?” Fraser replied. He was watching MacKinnon with a gleam in his eye.
“We must make an example of them. Those caught should be given a public hanging and left to rot at crossroads.”
“And ye think that will stop desperate men?” Niall MacDonald leaned forward, his large hands clenching upon the table before him.
MacKinnon stared back at him. “Aye.”
“Lawlessness has become a problem in my lands,” MacLeod admitted, shattering the tension. “Cattle rustling has gotten worse, and travelers between Kiltaraglen and Dunvegan were attacked just last week.”
“Those men moved onto the north afterward,” Alasdair MacDonald added, “they have been caught and imprisoned.”
A tense silence followed these words. Gavin studied the young MacDonald chieftain’s face, impressed by his impassive delivery.
“Of course, there’s a reason why things are so bad in MacKinnon territory,” Niall MacDonald said, helping himself to some wine. “And it’s not just because ye raise yer taxes higher every year.” He paused there, his mouth curving at the scowl upon MacKinnon’s face. Meeting the younger man’s eye, MacDonald of Sleat raised his goblet to him in a mocking salute. “Yer brother has a score to settle with ye.”
Gavin tensed at this news.His brother?To Gavin’s knowledge, Duncan MacKinnon didn’t have one. His only sibling was a younger sister, Drew. Likewise, the other men at the table looked on in surprised silence, their gazes keen.
Niall MacDonald had revealed something of great interest.
“Mybastardbrother, MacDonald,” MacKinnon eventually answered, his voice low and hard, “as ye well know.”
MacLeod let out a loud, rumbling laugh. He was a big, corpulent man with thick auburn hair and a ruddy complexion. The laugh suited him. “Why doesn’t it surprise me that auld Jock MacKinnon spread his seed away from the marital bed.”
The words, crude as they were, made some of the men at the table grin—although Fraser didn’t look amused. Nothing MacLeod said would please him. Gavin didn’t smile either; he could see that MacKinnon was seething.
“My father plowed a whore,” MacKinnon bit out the words, “and Craeg was the result.”
“Ah, so the bastard has a name.” Fraser rubbed his chin, his sharp gaze narrowed. “And what trouble has CraegMacKinnonbeen causing?”
Duncan MacKinnon’s face flushed then—a deep, ugly red like raw liver. Gavin could see he didn’t want the likes of Fraser giving his bastard outlaw brother the MacKinnon name. And yet, to react to it would weaken him in the eyes of all present. MacKinnon knew it, and so he held his tongue—barely.
“He leads a band of fugitives,” MacKinnon said eventually, his voice hoarse with suppressed wrath. “They move from place to place, hiding in the forests, the mountains, and the vales of my lands as it suits them.” MacKinnon’s hand grasped the stem of his goblet so tightly that his fingers turned white. “He steals from me … no one else … and givesmysilver andmypossessions to the poor.”
Gavin went still, casting his mind back to the ragged group who’d attacked him and Ella on their way to Scorrybreac. Surely those men hadn’t been part of Craeg MacKinnon’s band?
“And the people love him for it,” Niall MacDonald added with a smirk. “Many wish it was Craeg ruling Dunan, not ye.”
