Chapter Fourteen
Connor
Connor Grant stood by the port of Oban, barking orders at everyone he saw. Alasdair, his nephew, reached his side and said, “Chief, please allow me to handle this.”
Connor and his brother Jamie had been co-chieftains of Clan Grant, but they’d passed the lairdship on to Alasdair and Alick, their nephews. Even though Alasdair was now chieftain of the clan, he referred to Connor as chieftain out of respect.
Connor sighed, his hands settling on his hips as he stared at the ground. “You are correct, Alasdair. I have no sense of reason when I know my grandbairns are involved.”
“We don’t know that for sure yet. Dyna may have found Tora by now.” Alasdair moved over to the captain of the ship onto which they were boarding the warhorses. Numerous Grant guards assisted with the task as the sound of the waves unsettled the animals.
Sela, Connor’s wife, joined him and said, “Let Alasdair handle it all. We’ll go on the first ship. He can go on the last one.”
Alasdair returned to them and said, “Nay, I’ll not be on the last one. Alick will.”
Connor grinned. Everything about Alasdair reminded him of his deceased father Alexander, and his deceased brother Jake, Alasdair’s sire.
“Chief, we already had a score of guards ready after we received the first message from Dyna. We’ll get this group over quickly. The wind is in our favor. More will follow.”
The birlinn they’d hired to cross was the largest and most expensive ship to be found in the area. There would be oarsmen not far from the horses while the others rode the upper deck.
“I need to see our daughters and granddaughters,” Sela whispered. “I can’t wait to board that ship.”
“And Sandor,” he finished, kissing his wife’s forehead. “You won’t mind the ride, will you, love?”
Sela grinned, her multiple braids in her nearly white hair perfect for the wind they were experiencing. “Nay. I used to love sailing.” Sela’s heritage was Norse, and she hadn’t been on a birlinn in years. “I’m excited to see Mull too.” Her skin carried a golden bronze from the summer sun, and the fine lines around her eyes made her more beautiful in Connor’s view.
“If Dyna hasn’t found the bastard who stole my Tora away, I’ll find him.” Connor let out a bellow at Alasdair, who was now moving among the Grant guards, giving instructions. “Alasdair! Don’t forget.”
His nephew cast a small grin back at him. “I know, Chief. You have rights.”
It was part of the Highlander code of honor and the principle of just due. Whoever is harmed the most by a villain gets the rights to inflict the killing blow.
Damn right he had the right of due justice to the fool who dared to touch a Grant bairn.
Alasdair chuckled. “Poor bastard.”