Chapter Twelve #2
‘That is old history. More than four years ago. He remarried since then and expected an heir. Why did my father look to the MacKenzies?’
‘Well, that...’ Murtagh drank a large portion of his whisky and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘Symon’s stepda had MacKenzie ties. He thought an alliance with them would be better for us than with the MacLeries. A possible marriage was mentioned.’
Marriage? His other half-sisters from Angus’s previous marriage were yet too young to enter into negotiations now. His own attempt with the MacLerie heiress had ended in spectacular failure and he’d be no target for the MacKenzies. Could it be? ‘Symon?’
‘Nay, not the boy.’ Murtagh shook his head. ‘Tyra.’
Tyra? His now-betrothed? ‘This letter and the others do not mention that at all.’
‘A private arrangement, I think. First her marriage, then a stronger bond through the treaty.’
So, a gradual moving away from the MacLerie alliance to one with the MacKenzies, then? Yet neither Symon nor Tyra objected when the elders suggested instead that Rob and Tyra be joined to end the fighting between the two branches of the family.
‘Did my father know of those plans? To marry her into the MacKenzies?’
‘Symon’s stepda talked with him about it more than a year ago, before both of their deaths. Your father did not object. Though he had hopes that Tyra would marry the MacLerie lad or Symon would wed one of Connor’s kin.’
Kin or his daughter? Rob wondered.
Kidnapping was a time-honoured tradition and a means to a bride that might otherwise be out of a man’s reach. Is that why Symon had kidnapped Lilidh? Once he’d taken her, did he mean to keep her? Maybe he’d thought that since Rob had rejected her once, she was available to him?
But no one here knew about Iain’s death, so taking a married woman did nothing but infuriate her kin and her husband. Or had Symon known?
Rob’s head spun with all the possible connections that Murtagh’s words had uncovered.
Like a spider’s web woven across clans, each strand connected others that branched out endlessly.
Who knew what when? Who wanted which clan?
Why? None of that mattered in a way since in each of them was Connor’s and Angus’s belief that any link between their clans or with the MacKenzies would not involve the bastard son.
And, even worse, Rob becoming laird and chief had mucked things up and interfered with many plans. He had much to think about before Connor arrived at his gates, but even more to do before that happened.
‘My thanks, Murtagh,’ he said, slapping the man on the shoulder. ‘I hope I can earn your support in the coming weeks.’
The older man blinked several times at Rob’s admission, probably not expecting to have his support requested rather than demanded.
They parted then and Rob went to check on Dougal’s arrangements for weapons and arrows.
He prayed to God they wouldn’t need them, but better to be prepared than to be found empty-handed.
* * *
By the time night had fallen, Rob believed them almost ready to deal with the MacLeries who would arrive soon. Sentries had been posted at the edges of their lands to report any sightings of anyone not invited to be there.
He had hesitated in contacting the MacKenzie laird, hoping that he and Connor could come to terms and end this peaceably.
Then, with Lilidh safely returned to her parents and his clan safe from annihilation, he could decide over the future alliances that would benefit and protect his people.
The fewer who were involved the better, he thought as he sat down at table for the evening meal.
Each day his hall seemed smaller as more and more from the outlying farms and the village took refuge from the coming storm there.
The meals grew plainer, which suited him, though not his betrothed.
Tyra wore a strange, rather self-pleased look upon her face and it gave him pause.
He was growing more and more suspicious about her and her brother’s roles in the débacle he faced.
‘How do you fare, Tyra?’ he asked, after being served his food. He could not accuse her or Symon of anything. Yet.
‘I am well,’ she said with a smile. A smile that made his gut tighten with its sweetness.
‘Has Symon returned yet?’ he asked, glancing at the empty place next to her.
‘I do not keep track of my brother’s comings and goings,’ she replied. He watched her face, but she gave no indication that there was another meaning or that she lied. ‘Surely he carries out the duties you have assigned him, Rob.’
Rob could not resist testing her now that he was aware of other possible arrangements she’d been privy to. He took her hand in his and smiled at her.
‘Once the MacLerie has his daughter back and our alliance with the MacKenzies is settled, we should set a wedding date, Tyra.’
If he had glanced away, he would never have seen the brittle way her smile broke or the narrowing of her gaze at his words. But see them he did, so her words—when they came—had a different meaning than they would have had he not been watching her.
‘It would please me to have things settled between us, Rob.’
There was much more going on here in the house of the Mathesons than he had ever imagined. But he needed to understand it before Connor got here.
* * *
The rest of the meal passed quickly. The crowded hall and heightened tension and noise had bothered Tyra, so she had asked for his leave to seek her chambers quickly.
Though he suspected she did not want to risk having to speak to him about their marriage, his testing complete, he had waved his permission.
After making one more inspection of the gates and the guards posted, Rob made his way up the stairs to his chambers. He forgot for a moment about moving to another chamber and only the sight of the guards in front of his father’s room reminded him.
His father’s room.
Once named laird, he’d refused to move into the rooms his father had used. Thinking back now, he could not say if it was some kind of continued rebellion or that he could not accept his own worthiness to be there. Or, had he just honoured his father and did not want to live in his place?
Since others now stayed in these chambers, the guards would remain. They would patrol the corridor and the stairs from now on for any signs of trouble and to keep Lilidh safe if there was any.
‘Laird,’ Tomas said as he approached. ‘A word before you go in.’ The guard was about the same age and build as he was and they’d been friends for years. The frown that darkened his face warned Rob of something bad.
‘What happened?’
‘Lady Tyra was here.’
‘In my chambers?’ he asked.
‘Nay, but she was here in one of the other rooms when Lady MacGregor was moved.’
This was not good. ‘Go ahead.’
‘They exchanged words and Lady Tyra slapped—’
Rob did not wait for the rest of his words, he pushed open the door and found her sitting in a chair much like the one that had been in his chambers. Her head was bowed as she scrutinised the garment she sewed. He was not quiet, charging into the room as he had, so she knew he was there.
‘Lilidh.’ She did not react at all, continuing to push that needle through the fabric and out again. ‘Lilidh, look at me?’