Page 66 of Her Highland Prophecy
“I have done it, Faither,” he said. “I found a way to get the gold the Clan needs to pay the taxes this year despite the shortages.”
His father stared at him uncomprehendingly for a moment, before putting on his glasses and reading the piece of parchment that Gordain had thrust into his hands.
“Is this real?” he asked when he was finished.
“Aye, it is!” Gordain said, smiling wildly. “The Duke of Essex in interesting in buying five hundred barrels of whisky, and me contact with the merchants in Inverness brought it to me.”
“Are ye certain that it is nay a trick?” his father asked warily.
Gordain could not blame the man. They had been deceived before, but he trusted the merchant who had sent him the letter. They had had dealings together before and he had been both fair and honest in his dealings with them.
“I promise ye, it is nay trick,” Gordain said. “Five hundred barrels,athair! That is less than half of our stock so we willnae be deprived of it this winter either. It is the best I could have asked for.”
“Then this is verra well done indeed, my Son,” his father praised.
“This winter we will rest easy,” Gordain said.
“With many thanks to ye, Gordain.” The Laird shook his head ruefully. “Ye have shown ye have the persistence it takes to be a great Laird when the time comes, my Son.”
Gordan started to speak but his father stalled him with a raised hand.
“I ken that ye and I havenae seen eye to eye on things for a long time now. I ken that ye think I am too soft with our Clan, and perhaps ye are right, but I ken that I have done something right in ye, Gordain. Ye will bring our Clan to a much better position when ye become Laird.”
Overwhelmed with emotion at the heartfelt words coming from his father, Gordain dragged the older man into a hug. He had not given his father any form of physical affection since he had been a small boy, but in that moment it felt like the right course of action. So he hugged him, his arms closing all the way around him.
For a moment it felt wrong. His father was strong and tall as a mountain, while the man in front of him stood a few inches shorter than him, age making him frail. Then reality asserted itself and he eased into the feeling.
They stood there for a long minute, father and son, identical red heads of hair on each other’s shoulder. Gordain let go first, his father wiping suspiciously shiny eyes on the cuff of his sleeve.
They didn’t speak much after that. Gordain took his leave and walked out into the corridor and toward his chambers where he knew Diana would be waiting.
“Bhaltair!” he exclaimed when he noticed his cousin walking down one of the adjacent hallways.
“Gordain?” he said, doubling back to come closer to him. “What has happened? I thought ye would be with Diana this morning.” His voice was slightly mocking.
“I am going to meet her now,” Gordain said, ignoring the tease in his cousin’s tone. “I have solved our problem, Cousin.”
Bhaltair looked at him curiously.
“What do ye mean, Gordain. What problem?”
“The Clan’s problem. I found the gold I need to keep me Faither as Laird,” he explained.
Bhaltair looked dubious.
“And what is this solution that ye have found?” he asked.
Gordain explained the proposition that the merchant had made them on behalf of the Duke. Bhaltair’s face still looked troubled once Gordain was finished explaining.
“Why did ye nay ask me to speak with the merchants,a co-ogha? Ye ken that it is my duty within the Clan to handle our affairs with the merchants,” he asked.
Gordain grimaced. He had not meant to slight his cousin by taking initiative.
“And ye do a fine job of it,” he reassured. “I just happened upon the man when I was travelling with Diana. It is much to our benefit that he brought us such a boon.”
“Aye, ye’re right of course,” Bhaltair said, clapping him on the back. “Though ye can bet that Jaimie will nay be pleased that our fortune will be coming from the Sassenachs.”
“I’m sorry to tell ye, but yer brother is a bampot, Bhaltair,” Gordain said and they both laughed.
