Stealing a Kilted Heart (Temptation in Tartan #8)

Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

T wo dozen men waited for his commands. Two dozen men, all of them well-versed in the arts of war and espionage, all of them knowing what was at stake.

Knox Stuart stood in front of them all, hands braced against the large, round table that stood in the middle of the room. For once, they were not in his study, but rather in the meeting chamber, the place his father had favored as a laird before him. With the entire council, as well as several soldiers gathered for his address, it seemed more proper to meet them there. Besides, the importance of their mission could not be overstated.

The Gordon Clan was getting close. Sooner or later, an attack would come, and Knox wanted to be ready. The future of Clan Stuart was in his hands now more than ever before and he feared that even the slightest mistake could set them off-course.

“Thank ye fer comin’,” Knox said, looking up at the men gathered around him. Some of them were older and had been holding the same position in the clan for years—wise men who knew their jobs well. Others, especially the soldiers, were younger and eager to prove themselves. Knox needed them all. He needed the wisdom of the elders and the fire and passion of the youngsters if they were going to face a threat as serious as the Gordon Clan. “I’m certain ye all ken why we gathered here. There have been reports that there is movement within the Gordon Clan. We must be prepared fer any eventuality.”

Next to him, his closest advisor and friend, Magnus MacLeod, stood a little straighter at the mention of the Gordons, his hands curling into fists. Everyone in the Stuart Clan knew the destruction and misery that the Gordons could bring. Everyone had experienced a side of their cruelty; some, like Knox, more than others.

“There will be a scoutin’ mission tae assess the Gordon forces,” Knox continued, his voice firm and unwavering. His men needed strong leadership in these trying times and no matter how much the thought of an attack unnerved him, he couldn’t let it show. They were all looking to him for guidance, for orders, for a plan of action. “We must ken just how many men they have at their disposal, what their plans are, if they are about tae stage an attack. It will be a small group… good soldiers an’ scouts who can go unnoticed. Stealth is of utmost importance here. If anyone is discovered, the entire mission will be wasted. Dae ye all understand?”

There was a chorus of assent among the men. The elders, those who had experienced the cruelty of the Gordon Clan firsthand, looked among themselves with some unease, but Knox could tell they were all just as eager to get the information they needed. Clan Stuart could not simply sit and wait for the attack to come. They had to prepare their men. They had to know as much as they could if they wanted to, not only win the war, but also do so with minimal losses.

“Me laird… I would like tae lead the charge.”

Knox dragged his gaze to the man who had spoken. It was none other than Callum Fraser, the son of the late war master. His father had been a competent man, one who had brought Clan Stuart to victory many times, and his death had left a vacant spot behind that was yet to be filled. It had already been too long since the man’s death and Knox knew better than anyone Callum wanted his father’s position, but he was not even half the man his father had been. How could Knox give him the rank of war master when Callum had proven himself precisely what Knox despised: power hungry and arrogant, overly ambitious to the point of fault. Callum was nothing like his father, but he could also be so persistent that the only way to keep the peace among his troops was to indulge him without giving him any real power.

He didn’t trust Callum otherwise. Any small disagreement could lead to him working against Knox and the clan.

When Knox didn’t immediately respond to Callum’s request, he continued, “Surely, a man as clever an’ capable as yerself can understand I am the best choice fer this. Me faither taught me well an’ I have an excellent track record in trainin’ an’ battle.”

How much battle has this lad seen? How can he claim tae be the best choice when so many others are here?

Knox looked once again at his men; at those who had truly fought battles for years, dedicating their hearts and bodies to the clan and their cause. All of them weathered, all of them sporting the scars of those battles. Callum had some of those scars himself, that much was true. He, too, had fought for the people of Clan Stuart, but he couldn’t claim to be the one with the most experience in that room.

And then there were those comments, the ones Callum always made in an effort to flatter him. Knox didn’t need someone like him to tell him whether or not he was clever or capable. Every other word out of that man’s mouth was cheap flattery, rehearsed and delivered for a very specific purpose. Och, how much Knox disliked Callum and the likes of him.

Barely suppressing a sigh, Knox pinched the bridge of his nose as he nodded. It would be easier to throw a bone at him. It would be easier to give him a task and keep him occupied.

“Very well,” Knox said. “I will assign some men tae ye. A small party o’ half a dozen soldiers. Ye’re tasked with comin’ up with a plan. Once it is ready, inform Magnus an’ we shall meet again tae discuss it further.”

The smile Callum gave him was one of complete satisfaction, but Knox wasn’t blind to the way he held himself, standing tall with his chest puffed out with pride. Anyone would be proud to be given such an important mission, of course, but Callum’s satisfaction didn’t stem from his desire to fight for the clan; rather, it was simply another achievement about which he could brag and which he could eventually use as a steppingstone to get what he truly wanted.

“O’ course, me laird,” said Callum, bowing to Knox. “Trust that ye willnae be disappointed.”

Knox offered Callum a small, tight-lipped smile. It was the sincerest gesture he could offer, which was to say it was not sincere at all, but it seemed to be enough for Callum, who stepped back without another comment.

“Well, with this settled, there is only the matter o’ strategy fer the attack, if it ever comes,” Knox said. “But ye all ken we are already workin’ on this an’ will continue tae dae so until we are ready fer anythin’ the Gordon Clan can dae. I want everyone tae report everythin’ tae me an’ Magnus from now on. All the plans, all the strategies, everythin’. I wish tae hear them meself.”

There was another round of whispered assent among the men. For the next hour, the meeting dragged on, his advisors and the soldiers discussing strategy and offering solutions to any problem they could think of. By the time the meeting was over, though, and everyone but Magnus and Knox had left the room, Knox was not any more at ease than he had been when the meeting had begun.

“Callum Fraser is a problem,” Knox said. Though he wouldn’t dare voice those concerns in front of everyone else, he knew he could trust Magnus entirely. The two of them had gone through much together, and Knox trusted him not only with his life, but also with his secrets. “He will dae anythin’ tae be named the next war master, but that will only happen once I’m dead.”

With a heavy sigh, Magnus laid a hand on his shoulder, giving Knox a gentle shake. “I agree with ye,” he said. “But even then, if I still live, I’ll make sure he doesnae get what he wants.”

Knox couldn’t help but laugh at that. Though Magnus was a rough man, large and imposing and serious more often than not, sometimes he could be unintentionally funny. This was one of those times, Knox thought. There was no doubt in his mind Magnus meant every word he said.

“Good,” Knox said. “He is a snake. Ye can see it too, can ye nae?”

“Och, I ken it,” said Magnus. “He will stop at naethin’ tae get what he wants. Why did ye make him the leader?”

“I had tae give him somethin’ until we ken how tae deal with him,” Knox pointed out. “An’ the council wishes me tae choose a war master, so if I must rush, then I must keep Callum occupied.”

“Aye, I suppose that’s true,” said Magnus. “Dae ye have anyone in mind?”

Knox shook his head. “Nay. Dae ye?”

“Nay,” said Magnus. “Ye also need tae find another healer.”

“Another healer?”

This was news to Knox and not particularly good news. Magnus’ wife, Effie, was the castle’s healer and she was more than competent at her job.

“The demands have grown too great,” Magnus said. “There is only so much Effie can dae an’ if there is an attack…”

Magnus didn’t need to finish his sentence for Knox to know what he meant. If Clan Gordon attacked, then there would be many who would need care and attention from a healer. Effie would not be enough on her own to meet such demands.

“Fine,” said Knox, nodding. “Dae we ken anyone who could help?”

“Perhaps we could find someone in Duror,” said Magnus. “It’s a big village. Surely, they have a healer.”

“Very well. See that it is done.”

The Gordon Clan had already taken too much from them—from him. Their laird, Alistair Gordon, had loomed over Knox’s shadow for years. He was responsible for his parents’ deaths. He was responsible for so many evil acts that Knox could not even name them all. And now they were about to attack again, threatening everything Knox held dear—his friends, his family, his people.

They wouldn’t be getting what they wanted, not if he had something to say about it. He would rather give his own life, sacrifice himself for the sake of those who trusted him and depended on him, than let the Gordons have even a sliver of his land or harm even one of his people.

There was much to be done. Knox was convinced an attack was imminent and with Callum leading the mission, he couldn’t rest assured everything would work out. The castle needed fortification and a new healer needed to be found. The men’s training would have to become more rigorous than ever, and Knox felt the need to be in control of all those things. Even if it meant sleepless nights and working tirelessly around the clock, he had to make sure the clan had no weak spots.

It was all his responsibility now. Everything rested upon his shoulders.