Page 29 of The Cruel Highlander's Bride
“An audience? What for?” Ciara asked.
“We lost many men to the feud between our clans, and there have been so few people workin’ the fields… The village is strugglin’,” Elspeth admitted with a sigh.
“The village has suffered because of me faither’s clan too, so I might be of help,” Ciara offered.
It was true, but it was also an excuse. She wanted to help those women, but she was also desperate to see Magnus again. Last night had not made anything clear to her. She needed to see what he was thinking and feeling.
With a plan in place, Ciara stood up from her seat. She smoothed down her dress and headed directly to Magnus. She hoped he was ready to see her.
* * *
“We are starvin’, Me Laird,” one of the village women complained.
That felt like a punch to the gut. How had he let this happen?
Sitting in his study today were the village women who had requested an audience with him, theirLaird, who was failing them so miserably. The five women in front of him were beaten down and weary. It showed in their eyes.
Magnus knew what it must have cost them to be here today. These women, Highland women, were proud. They were used to handling everything on their own and handling itwell. But their Laird had created conditions that not even they could withstand.
“Our men—our children, even—were called up for yer war, and they never returned home again,” another woman was saying, her voice cracking mid-sentence.
Magnus nodded as sympathetically as he could. He felt like all he’d done so far was nod. He couldn’t empathize with them, not really. His losses were not the same as these women’s. Besides, here he sat in his ornate castle, with a full belly. No, their losses were definitely not the same.
Years of this war had left them to provide for and raise their children alone—if they were lucky to have any left. And that was on top of keeping the village running.
Each of the women in his study had lost their husbands in this useless war. Some even lost their sons as well. And a few of those men were lost during his Lairdship.
The fresh wounds were the hardest to witness. The women wore their grief like a badge of honor, not hiding it for anyone else’s comfort. Magnus was proud to call these women his clanspeople. He just hoped they would one day be proud to call him their Laird.
The way this audience was going, though, that day would not be coming anytime soon. So far, he’d given them no reason to trust him or be thankful.
When he’d heard what all of them had endured, he felt like putting his sword to his own neck. The only thing that kept him in his seat was the possibility that he might be able to help before he met his punishment. Surely there would be something special planned for him after all the harm he’d caused the people whom he was supposed to protect.
But if he could help, even in some small way, he was eager to do it. However, Magnus could hardly think about solutions, so lost he was in self-hatred.
What kind of Laird leaves his people to starve after forcing them to fight in a war probably started by ego? Him, apparently.
With a sigh, Magnus continued to listen to the plight of the village women.
“Our fields lay barren. Most of the boys that are left are still too young to handle it all, and we’ve too much to do,” another explained.
Again, the Laird just nodded grimly.
“We need yer help,” the first woman implored.
And that was truly the breaking point for him. His people werebeggingfor something that should have been freely given. They had to request a special audience with him, just to survive under the conditions he had forced upon them.
He may not have started this war, but through his own incompetence, he’d let it continue for far too long. If he was just better, maybe he could have prevented some of this. All this time, he’d thought he was better than his father, but he had done nothing to improve these people’s lives, ignorant even to the fact that they struggled at all.
Magnus was saved from a full spiral when a knock sounded at the door. Ewan, who was standing in the corner, was about to answer it, but Magnus shook his head. He needed to move, otherwise he feared he’d snap.
“One moment,” he said to the women, his voice rough and pained.
His body felt weighed down, as if it were too heavy to lift, but he forced it to move towards the door. He took one deep, steadying breath and opened the door to find his betrothed standing in front of him.
She reared back a little at the sight of him, and it was just one more blow. Magnus sucked in a breath as the fear on her face made his stomach churn. She peered around him and then spoke.
“Might I sit in on the conversation, Me Laird?” she asked demurely. Then she added loudly, “As the future lady of this clan.”
