A Price to Be Paid: A Scottish Highlander Romance (Legacy of the Laird Book 2)

Chapter 9

Rabby turned the chair over with a frown, inspecting it closely. “This is the last one?” he asked.

Mathe nodded. “Aye, it is.”

“It’s verra good,” he said almost grudgingly. “I admit ye’ve surprised me, Mathe. I doubted ye could do work like this. I remember yer methods being of, ah, the more blunt approach.”

“I doubted myself, to tell ye the truth,” Mathe replied with a thoughtful smile. “I had plenty of experience as a lad, but I didnae know if I would remember any of it.”

“Well, ye certainly seem to have remembered the important bits.” Rabby reached down and pulled out a small purse. “I know we agreed on food and lodging, but in good faith I cannae take all this and no” pay ye for it.”

“Nonsense,” Mathe protested. “Ye took a chance on me, when ye didnae need to.”

“And it paid me back handsomely, and then some,” Rabby said. “I mean it. The cost of food and lodging was a fraction of what I would have paid someone else, so ye can at least take a little something extra for yer time.”

“Ye”re sure about this?” Mathe asked.

“Absolutely. And in fact, I have another job for ye, if ye want it.”

Mathe looked around. “Something else to fix?”

“Actually, something new to build.”

“Oh?” Mathe asked, ignoring the flutter in his stomach and remembering his earlier wishes to build and not destroy. To fix chairs was one thing, but to craft something new… well, that was another thing entirely.

“Aye, I need a new table. No” like these round things. I want a nice rectangular table to go in that corner,” he said with a nod. “Something that looks important, even a wee bit fancy. Think ye’re up to that?”

Mathe nodded. “Of course. Only…”

“Aye?”

“I’m up to it, but I dinnae know if the tools are. A table that large would need a few extra bits and pieces, and fanciness will mean chisels and blades and wood hammers.”

Rabby nodded. “I figured as much. Why dinnae ye pop over to the blacksmith and put an order in on my behalf? Only what ye need, mind. I dinnae have much to spare.”

“Are ye sure?”

“Aye, it’s an investment, isnae it?”

“In me, or in the tools?” Mathe asked with a smile.

Rabby shrugged as he walked back behind the counter. “Both,” he said over his shoulder. “The more I think about it, the more I see things I could have ye help with. It’s about time I showed this place a bit of love.”

Mathe nodded and looked down at the coin purse. Inside he could see the dull glint of copper and he bounced it around thoughtfully, then put on his cloak and stepped outside. It was late afternoon, and the day was cold, and he walked with his head down and hands stuffed deep in his pockets, gripping the coin purse. He wasn’t sure if Lilidh would be home yet or not, but figured he could wait if need be.

As he approached, a glance to his right saw a familiar shape coming towards him. He recognised it instantly, and reflected that even after so many years, he would always know his wife and her walk. She had a long stride, purposeful and yet feminine, and he remembered how he’d take any opportunity to walk a few paces behind her to admire the roll of her hips.

Lilidh had her head down, and as she drew closer she glanced up, coming to an abrupt stop as she saw him. He hurried over.

“Lilidh,” he said when he reached her, drinking in the lines of her face once more. He hoped he would dream of her again that night.

“Mathe,” she said warily.

“I wanted to apologise again for yesterday,” he said. “I shouldnae have taken the lad.”

“Why did ye?” she asked.

Mathe looked up to the grey sky overhead. “I just knew he was home alone, that’s all. I thought he might enjoy getting out.”

“He did,” Lilidh admitted.

“Aye?”

“Aye. I couldnae shut him up for the rest of the evening, actually.” She paused. “Or get him to sleep, for that matter.”

Mathe nodded and gave her a quick smile. “I enjoyed it, as well. He’s a sharp lad. Must get it from his mother.”

“Mathe, dinnae,” Lilidh said with a shake of her head.

“Sorry,” he said. “But I have something for ye.”

“I dinnae want anything from ye, Mathe,” she said, even as he pulled the coin purse out and showed it to her.

“I got paid for fixing the chairs. It’s no” much, but I want ye to have it.”

Lilidh stared at it for long moments with a frown, but didn’t reach for it. He bounced it once in his hand, and she started.

“Nay, Mathe,” she said. “Nay, nay, nay.”

“Why no”?” he asked.

“I’m no” taking anything from ye,” she said. “I’m doing this on my own.”

“A bit of help doesnae hurt, surely?”

“I dinnae want a bit of help from ye.”

As Lilidh spoke, she suddenly looked around Mathe’s shoulder. He turned to see Fynn had opened the door and was watching them across the mud. The boy raised his hand, and they both raised their own back in return at the same time. Lilidh glanced at Mathe’s wave with a frown.

“Hi, mama,” Fynn called out.

“Hello, bhobain,” she replied.

“Hi Mathe,” he said.

“Greetings, Fynn,” Mathe replied.

“Mathe and I are going to take a quick walk,” Lilidh called out. “We’ll be back soon.”

“Alright,” Fynn shouted and gave another wave. “Enjoy yerselves!”

Lilidh grasped Mathe’s arm and drew him away from the house. They walked together in silence, picking streets seemingly at random. Once again, Mathe felt a most curious sense of being watched, and yet he couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary. He truly was growing paranoid, he thought, as he waited patiently for Lilidh to say whatever was on her mind.

“Mathe,” she said finally, “ye need to ken where I’m coming from. Fynn is my responsibility and mine only.”

“He doesnae need to be,” Mathe said. “He’s my son.”

Lilidh barked a rough laugh. “And who are ye? The man who walked out on me.”

“Lilidh, I -”

“Abandoned me. Left me with a child and naught else.”

“Aye,” he said softly.

“I cannae trust ye, Mathe,” she said. “No” the way ye left me. Ye”ve done it once, and ye’ll do it again. I need to do this on my own, because I’m the only person who has our best interests at heart.”

Mathe came to a stop. Lilidh looked at him, and he raised his hand to place it on her shoulder. She brushed it off angrily.

“Lilidh,” he said, “I meant every word I said to ye, two days ago. I’m here to stay, and I’m here to make amends.”

“And just how do ye propose to make amends for everything that ye’ve done? Half the town would happily see ye in yer grave, and properly this time.”

“I cannae make amends with everyone,” Mathe said. “Only those who matter. And I willnae be leaving until I do.”

“I willnae take money from ye.”

He nodded. “Fine. But I willnae be spending it. I’ll keep it tucked away, for when I can change yer mind.”

“It willnae change,” Lilidh said, shaking her head. “And I meant what I said; ye should leave Dun Lagaidh. It will be better for everyone.”

“Better for Fynn?” Mathe asked.

Lilidh didn’t answer, and Mathe realised they had looped back to her house. She glanced over at it and her eyes hardened. “It would have been better for Fynn if ye never came back at all.”

“Maybe,” Mathe conceded as he turned to leave. “But I’m here to stay, and to set things right. Good evening, Lilidh.”

Lilidh didn’t answer, and he walked back to the West Gate in thoughtful silence. She didn’t seem quite as angry or combative as she had over the previous few days. Perhaps they just needed time, and for her to see that he was sincere in his intentions. Well, if there were any two things he had in abundance, it was time, and a sincerity to his promise.

The moment the West Gate came into his view, Mathe’s thoughts were interrupted.

Something was afoot.

Outside the door, two men loitered suspiciously, doing their best to look casual and failing miserably. They were big lads, each with a soldier’s build. As he ducked through the front door, the two men looked anywhere but in his direction.

“Ah, there ye are,” Rabby said, hurrying forward. Behind him, Fergus stood at the stairs that led up to the rooms, his arms crossed. More men sat spread out through the common room.

“I suspect my farseeing eye has been opened, Rabby,” Mathe said as he took off his cloak.

“Eh?” the innkeeper asked with a frown.

“I see a visit from the laird in my immediate future.”

Fergus barked a laugh. “Best run upstairs, MacBrennan, we dinnae have all night.”

“Aye,” he muttered, pushing away the sudden and strange nervousness that bloomed in the pit of his stomach. Was it because he didn’t want to see Blaine McCaskill, the lad that had grown into a man? Or was it the strange feeling that he was about to be mixed up in something he had no desire to be? At his door another man stood at attention, carrying a sword. As Mathe stepped past, the soldier raised a hand and lay it on his chest.

“Naught funny,” he said. “Ye’ll never get out alive.”

Mathe raised his own hand and gently pushed the man’s arm off him. “Same to ye, lad.”

The door was ajar, so he pushed it open and stepped inside, letting his eyes adjust to the dim light in the room. The laird sat on a chair by the window and he was illuminated by the fading afternoon light.

He was big, Mathe admitted. Surprisingly big. Maybe he really was the man they spoke about, down in the Fleet; the Highland warrior terrorising Englishmen, killing men left and right. He certainly didn’t look a stranger to the sword he wore so comfortably. Mathe looked the man in the eyes and saw the hardness within. His own eyes had looked much like that, he knew, before prison dulled them. The silence grew between them into almost a palpable thing; something he could reach out and touch. His heart beat faster in his chest and a familiar feeling of anticipation came over him, as it always used to before violence.

Then he remembered himself, and why he was here.

“Laird,” Mathe said, bowing his head.

He felt, rather than saw, the other man relax slightly, and a measure of tension left the room.

“Mathe MacBrennan,” Blaine said finally.

“Le Ravageur du Lion,” Mathe replied, giving the name of that feared Highland warrior he’d heard about.

The laird gave a faint smile. “Once upon a time. How did ye hear about that?”

“I spent six years in the Fleet,” Mathe said. “A prison in London. Word of yer exploits got around.”

“I’ve heard of that place,” Blaine replied. “Terrible, from the tales.”

“Worse than ye can imagine.”

“And now ye’re back in Dun Lagaidh. To make amends with yer wife, my steward tells me.”

Mathe nodded. “Aye, he has it true.”

“And to be a better person?”

“Aye.”

“Do ye think the wrongs of the past can ever be set right?” Blaine asked.

“That sounds like a question for yer brother and his God,” Mathe said. “I can certainly try, though.”

“He was beside himself to learn that ye’ve returned, did ye know that? I’ve never seen him so distressed.” Blaine spoke the words evenly, but Mathe detected the anger that lay under the surface.

“He was a tender lad,” he said.

“And ye were a monster. Ye and my father.”

“Aye,” Mathe said with a slow nod. “We were.”

“I dinnae want ye in my town.”

“I ken.”

“And yet ye have nay intention to leave.”

“I cannae,” Mathe said. “I’m sure yer steward told ye that as well.”

Blaine nodded and fell silent, watching Mathe with unblinking eyes. “There’s something I need to ask ye,” he said finally.

“Then ask.”

“Did ye kill the auld Laird McPhee?”

Mathe looked back at the man, wondering why this, of all questions, was the thing that Blaine asked of him. “Ye married the young McPhee lass?” he asked at last.

“Aye,” Blaine replied.

Mathe nodded. “Well, in that case, ye can tell yer pretty young wife that I had naught to do with the death of her father.”

The laird’s eyes narrowed. “Naught at all? I find that hard to believe, Mathe.”

“Believe it or no”, that’s up to ye,” he said with a shrug. “But know that I was yer father’s sword, no” his torturer. I remember that night well, as it happens, and I was at home with my wife. Ye can ask her yerself; I hear she works for ye, these days.”

“Ye werenae involved in his capture?”

“Nay, laird,” Mathe said, and then looked down briefly. “I didnae agree with what yer father did to the auld Laird McPhee.”

“I thought ye agreed with my father in all things.”

“Most. I knew what he planned, but I didnae think it would help our cause. I kept myself away.”

“Did ye argue with him?” Blaine asked.

“Nay, Blaine, I didnae argue with him.”

“Ye were close. Ye could have stood up to him. Perhaps he might have listened to ye.”

Mathe frowned. “Dinnae forget that he was my employer, no” my family, despite how close we were. Ye could say that standing up to the auld laird wasnae in my job description.”

“Ye were verra quick to hold yer sword to my throat when I stood up to him,” Blaine said quietly.

“Ye approached the laird with open steel, and I had a duty to protect him,” Mathe replied with a shrug. “That was in my job description.”

Blaine nodded and rubbed his jaw. “Well, ye were certainly loyal, if naught else. Although I admit I’m surprised to hear ye say that ye disagreed with father on some matters.”

“More and more, if ye must know,” Mathe said. “The worst came after ye”d already left.”

“So I’ve heard,” Blaine said.

“Yer father changed, Blaine, and I’m ashamed to say that I changed with him.”

“Ashamed?”

“Aye, ashamed,” Mathe said. “Does that surprise ye?”

“I think it would be verra easy for ye to tell me what ye think I wanted to hear, whether it was the truth or no”,” Blaine said slowly.

“I cannae make up yer mind for ye, Laird McCaskill. I’m no” here to convince ye.”

“Only to convince yer wife.”

“I cannae make her mind up, either,” Mathe muttered. Then he shook his head. “Nay matter. Perhaps we should talk about why ye’re here, instead? I doubt this was a social visit to reminisce about auld times.”

“Ye”d be right,” Blaine answered. “So tell me, what do ye know about the state of things in the town?”

“No” one thing,” Mathe answered. “When I came back, I also decided to keep to myself. Whatever happens around me isnae my affair, and I’ll be keeping it that way.”

“Sometimes we arenae given the choice,” Blaine said. “Ye are who ye are.”

“And what does me being me have to do with the events of yer town?”

“There’s a plot underway to have me… removed,” Blaine said. “Permanently, ye might say.”

“That’s unfortunate for ye.”

“And for ye too,” Blaine said.

“Why?”

“Because it’s almost certainly being orchestrated by people still loyal to my father.”

Mathe looked down and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yer father’s long dead. And unlike me, he’s likely to stay there.”

“These men are loyal to my father’s style of rule, I should say. I’m keeping us neutral in an escalating conflict that may well end in war, and some people are no” happy about it.”

“Round them up,” Mathe said with a shrug. “Throw them in the dungeon. Ye”re the laird, arenae ye?”

“I am,” Blaine said, “and I would. If I knew who they were.”

Mathe stood suddenly and walked to the window, unlatching and pushing it open. “Hot in here,” he muttered.

Blaine also stood. He was tall, but still only came up to Mathe’s chin. “These men keep themselves in the shadows, Mathe. It would take something extraordinary to have them reveal themselves.”

“Extraordinary like the return of the auld laird’s lieutenant,” Mathe said with a sinking feeling.

“Aye, my thoughts exactly.”

He began to pace up and down the small room. “I’m no” here to get involved in yer plots, laird.”

“Ye”re here to be a better person.”

“Aye,” Mathe said, “to Lilidh and the lad.”

“Ye owe a lot more people than that, MacBrennan,” Blaine said.

Mathe frowned and paused. “Are ye saying I owe ye, Laird McCaskill?”

“I’m saying there’s more to redemption than helping one person, or even two. And besides that, I’d compensate ye more than fairly.”

“And what would ye need from me?”

“Names. Naught more than that. Give me the instigators and I’ll take care of the rest.”

“Weed them out from within, ye mean.”

Blaine shook his head. “Weeding implies ye would be on the inside. Part of the plot. That’s no” the case, is it? Ye”re just an innocent bystander, and if ye happened to be approached by someone, well, ye’re just trying to do the right thing.”

“Nobody will reveal themselves to me until I prove loyal to their cause,” Mathe said. “Ye know that.”

“Then I’ll leave it to ye to decide how best to get those names,” Blaine replied.

Mathe collapsed back into his chair and looked down at his boots. He knew this would help his relationship with the laird and, by extension, the town. And yet he made a promise to himself to keep away from things that didn’t concern him. The dark road that he traveled with the old laird was illuminated by the plots of others, and he remembered all too well how many pies he had fingers in. If he agreed, then where did it stop? And if it didn’t stop, then how long until it put Lilidh at risk once again?

“I cannae,” Mathe said, looking up.

“Cannae, or willnae?” Blaine asked quietly.

“Willnae. I’m sorry Laird McCaskill, but I’m here for one thing only, and that’s to help my family.”

The laird nodded slowly. “And there’s nay reward I could offer that would change yer mind?”

“I dinnae need anything from ye.”

“Aye. Well, in that case, I appreciate yer honesty.” Then he paused. “And, Mathe, know that I’ve been honest with ye, too. Perhaps more than I should. Ye know things ye shouldnae have any right to know.”

“I’m only here for my family,” Mathe repeated.

“Good. Dinnae join these men. They willnae succeed, whether I have yer help or no”. Best for ye to remember yer promise to yer wife.”

Mathe nodded. “I ken.”

“I admit I hoped for better, but I cannae fault yer resolve. I wish ye the best for ye and yer family.”

Mathe stood. “My thanks,” he said.

The two men looked at each other for a long moment, then Blaine nodded once more and swept past him and out of the room.