Chapter Ten #2
They could argue over many things, but protecting children when swords were drawn wouldn’t be one of them.
‘I’d do the same,’ he said. ‘If I were a father, I, too, would keep the young protected.’ Then he remembered the other red hair that had caught his eye. ‘But they were there at the wedding.’
The tension in her eased a bit. It wasn’t forgiveness, but it was something. ‘They were in the crowds.’
So they could see their sister being married, but also kept at a distance to be swept away if tempers flared. Trust. Mistrust. If the Lochmores felt uneasy, so must the McCrieffs. The question was, how much did his wife trust him?
He looked to the open door to Hamish’s room and then to the closed door behind him. He didn’t need to be here now. He needed to be planning for every scenario with his men. At the very least, he needed to be at Paiden’s side, just as he knew that Paiden would have been there for him.
Instead, he was in the bedchambers of a dying man whom he had never met, but whom his father hated.
‘You don’t need to stay here with me,’ Ailsa said.
He whipped his head around. ‘We are married. Where else would I be?’
‘I can tell you wish to be elsewhere. You’re drumming with your fingers against your leg and staring at the doors.’
He stilled his left hand. ‘Is this what you do? Stay in this man’s room?’
‘I’m a healer and he is ill.’
‘We, too, have a healer,’ he said. ‘But she’s there for everyone, not cloistered away for one man.’
‘I was requested to be by Hamish’s side as much as possible.’
Except this was excessive. No healer would stay all day like this. It would be a waste of resources and certainly, in a clan this size, the healer would be needed elsewhere.
Hamish was the Chief, but her father ruled and it didn’t seem as if there were numerous visitors or clansmen worried about this dying man. In fact, the hallway was bare. Hamish was hated by Lochmores and it didn’t appear he was much loved by McCrieffs either. Yet she stayed by his side.
‘Who requested it.’
She jolted. ‘What does it matter? Our Chief is sick and needs someone.’
Trust. Mistrust, but he wanted an answer and wouldn’t let this go. ‘The Chief would be sick even if you tell me.’
‘Hamish,’ she said tersely. ‘He requested it of my father and so my father granted it.’
Requested, or ordered. It was Hamish’s right to make orders. A chief was Chief until he died. A Tanist was only heir apparent. But Hamish was dying and, from the time he’d been here, Hamish was bedridden, and Frederick had been making decisions. How much control did the Chief have?
‘Who is in charge of this clan?’ he said.
‘Hamish,’ she said too quickly.
‘Ailsa,’ he prodded.
‘Don’t think to reprimand or demand answers from me.’ She glanced at Hamish’s door. ‘My father is a great warrior and well respected. Hamish is our Chief. There is nothing else.’
A change of power wasn’t ‘nothing else’. He’d seen enough last night to know that Frederick had power here. Many McCrieffs raised their goblets at his announcement and there were no open denials or interruptions when he’d given his speech. If there was disagreement, Rory hadn’t noticed it.
It appeared the Chief did not have control. If Frederick and Hamish agreed on matters, the transfer of power would be unproblematic. If they held differing opinions, however... No, the results would be too disastrous to even think about, let alone be true.
‘You have a person who tried to murder a Lochmore,’ he said.
‘I know,’ she said more quietly than him.
Her honesty jarred him. Just a few hours before she’d prevaricated about Paiden’s poisoning. Had she thought about it some more or did she know something more?
He hid secrets, but there were some here as well. ‘Ailsa, your father invited me here. If he poisoned—’
‘He didn’t!’
When he raised his brow, she huffed. Her vehement response was an answer. So there were other factions here. Some who upheld the old story, who wanted to keep the hatred. Was it Hamish? He seemed too diminished to make such demands.
‘They could poison you, too,’ he said. ‘Because you’re married to me, a Lochmore, they could come after you. Did you think of that? Did you think I would tolerate it?’
She kept her quiet. He let her; it was a lot for him to think about, too.
‘Come. If Hamish sleeps, we will talk to your father.’
‘I can’t leave the room,’ she said.
Her father was Tanist, but Hamish was Chief. Where did that leave his wife? For as much as she was direct and seemed to have independence, it appeared she was kept as a prisoner.
‘Is it like this every day?’ he asked. ‘Are you here every day.’
She looked at the window. ‘Yes.’
‘Then we’ll wait until someone brings you food and make them tend Hamish while we talk to your father.’
‘My father brings me food.’
Frederick wasn’t in the hall, and might have missed the morning repast which meant Ailsa would as well. Where was he and why would a warrior cater to his daughter?
Rory stood. ‘I will bring you food.’
Ailsa released her shuddering breath the moment Rory strode out the door. He seemed angry that her father brought food.
Was it wrong for family to wait on each other?
They’d all grown very close since her mother died.
At first, she’d been surprised when her father brought her food, but after a while, she’d looked forward to it.
It was a time when they could talk. Now, however, because Rory asked her about it, she questioned it as well.
Because ultimately, her father wouldn’t be waiting on her if Hamish didn’t demand her time. Just how much power did Hamish wield? Something was amiss. Other Chiefs had gotten ill, other Tanists gained the control of clans, her own observations could be skewed.
But she knew, absolutely knew, Hamish was undermining her father’s rule. She knew that Paiden’s poisoning wasn’t an accident. That it had been done just at that moment to ensure he died so there would be a battle, that there would be no peace.
Her father often whispered that he wanted her to have a future he and his father never had.
Hamish had no issue and cared not for the future of the clan.
He had blind pride and revered the past when McCrieffs were strong, wealthy, honourable.
It was...possible for Hamish to have ordered Lochmore’s demise.
Except for her interference, Paiden would be dead. She wished she knew what ailed him, but his stomach contents had been too jumbled for her to guess correctly. Whatever the poison was, it was well hidden and, until she knew what, she feared any antidote.
In the meantime Paiden slept on, but for how much longer? Someone didn’t want her—a McCrieff, the Tanist’s daughter—marrying a Lochmore Chief’s son. They wanted war.
From Rory’s storm-ridden countenance, she feared he’d guessed that truth. Arrows pointed at him, he’d entered the McCrieff courtyard anyway. Paiden close to death, he’d married her anyway. He and his men had been threatened the moment they rode on McCrieff land. Yet, he was angry now.
Her heart wondered if his anger was from the fact that she now was threatened. He said he wouldn’t tolerate it. However, the way he said it... As if he wanted to say something stronger, more dangerous, and just held himself back.
Could Rory have feelings for her? Too soon. Not possible. Not given the history between McCrieffs and Lochmores. He’d said he’d married her for power.
Except they weren’t married and he seemed to think he was the only one to make sacrifices. She knew his, he didn’t know hers. Nor had he asked. And in truth, she wouldn’t even tell him of Magnus now. He didn’t deserve to know after what he’d done on their wedding night.
But now he meant to break her fast and last night he had preserved her honour.
Married or not, the real question was, in the light of day and knowing what happened afterwards, would she still have done it? She still believed some alliance with Lochmores would stop future battles. Lives would still be saved, maybe there was a chance at lasting peace.
Or maybe it was true, what Rory had said, and their marriage would expose how deep the hatred was between the clans. Paiden’s poisoning certainly revealed animosity; maybe someone would try to kill her for marrying Rory.
Marrying Rory. She wasn’t married. She hated that he held that control over her. More fool her if it did come to light. Despite her father’s leniency when it came to her being a healer, he would not forgive if his only child’s marriage was false.
Everything about this circumstance was false. They were simply strangers. Except...was that true?
Neither had been held to sword point. Her father had alluded to Rory suffering consequences, but she knew her father would never harm anyone invited to dine.
Her father was a great warrior who had survived many battles.
Other men had looked up to him long before he became Tanist. He’d earned that respect because of his reasoning as well as his sword.