Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
Ten council members sat around a scarred oak table, their faces ranging from skeptical to openly hostile. Angus presided from the head, looking grey and exhausted. Malcolm stood behind him, watching everything.
Tavish stood before them, spine straight, hands clasped behind his back. He could feel their judgment pressing against him like a physical weight.
"Let's be plain." Dougal MacEwan, a thick-necked man with more ale gut than sense, leaned forward. "This betrothal appeared from nowhere. Nay warning, nay negotiation we witnessed, naething. Just the lass riding in claiming she's promised tae a MacBain."
"The negotiations were conducted privately," Angus said calmly. "As is proper fer such sensitive matters."
"Private is one thing. Secret is another." Dougal's gaze fixed on Tavish. "What dae we actually ken about this man? His faither's dead. His braither leads MacBain now. What's he bringing tae this match besides a sword arm?"
Tavish bit back the first three responses that came to mind. None would help his cause.
"Tavish MacBain brings alliance," Angus replied.
"Military support against Sinclair aggression.
A family connection that strengthens both our clans.
And more importantly, he brings honor and proven courage.
" He paused deliberately. "And upon marriage, he can take the role of laird—something this clan desperately needs with me health failing and nay male heir. "
The words settled over the table like a stone dropping into still water. Several council members shifted, exchanging glances.
"A MacBain as MacEwan laird?" Finlay, grey-bearded and sharp-eyed, spoke up carefully. "That's… a significant alliance."
"Aye, it is," Angus replied. "Unless ye'd prefer the alternative—Keir Sinclair claiming that role instead, and MacEwan lands disappearing into Sinclair holdings entirely."
Silence followed that statement. No one seemed eager to argue the point.
Silence pressed heavy as stone. Every eye turned to Tavish.
"What about leadership?" Finlay's tone remained measured. "If he's tae become laird of this clan, what experience daes he bring? What qualifies him tae rule MacEwan lands?"
Tavish straightened. "I've served as second tae me braither Fionnlagh fer five years. I've commanded patrols, negotiated border disputes, managed resource distribution during harsh winters. I've trained men, settled clan conflicts, and represented MacBain interests in treaty negotiations."
"Under yer braither's authority," Dougal pointed out. "Nae as laird yerself."
"Aye. Under me braither's authority. Learning from a man I trust and respect." Tavish's voice stayed level. "Which is more preparation than most lairds receive before their faither dies and they're thrust intae command unprepared."
A few heads nodded at that truth.
"And what of military capability?" another council member asked. "Can ye defend MacEwan lands against Sinclair aggression?"
"I've already survived one assassination attempt," Tavish replied. "Keir's men attacked me on the road precisely because this betrothal threatens his plans. I'm still standing. They're nae."
Finlay leaned forward. "That's survival, not leadership. Can ye command men in battle? Protect our borders? Ensure this clan's safety?"
"I can and will." Tavish met his gaze steadily.
"With MacBain military support and proper training of yer existing forces.
But more importantly, I'll ensure Maighread remains free tae lead this clan as she sees fit.
I'm nae here to replace her authority. I'm here tae support it and provide the male presence the Council requires. "
Silence followed that statement.
Then Angus spoke. "Tavish MacBain is honorable, capable, and genuinely committed tae protecting me daughter and this clan.
More importantly, he's already proven his worth by surviving Keir's assassination attempt and standing here despite his injuries.
" His voice strengthened. "This betrothal reinforces us," Angus continued.
"It provides military alliance when we're vulnerable.
It gives Maighread a husband she chose rather than one forced upon her.
And it denies Keir Sinclair the prize he's been circling like a vulture fer months.
" He leaned forward. "Unless ye'd prefer tae deliver me daughter tae Sinclair yerselves?
Because that's the alternative ye're considering. "
"We're nae suggesting—" Dougal began.
"Aren't ye?" Angus's gaze swept the table. "Every delay, every objection, every attempt tae undermine this match serves Keir's interests. So decide now. Dae ye support yer laird's choice fer his daughter? Or dae ye oppose it and accept the consequences?"
Finlay spoke first. "I support the match. Though I'd prefer the wedding happen quickly, before more complications arise."
"Agreed," another council member said. Then another. One by one, they voiced support. Not enthusiastically, but support nonetheless.
Only Dougal remained silent, his expression sour.
"Dougal?" Angus prompted.
"I'll nae oppose it," Dougal said finally. "But I'm nae convinced it's our best option. Time will tell if this MacBain is worthy of MacEwan trust."
"Time will indeed tell." Angus sat back, exhaustion evident. "This meeting is concluded. Tavish, remain. The rest of ye are dismissed."
The Council filed out, leaving Tavish alone with Angus and Malcolm.
The door closed. Silence filled the chamber.
"That went better than expected," Angus said dryly.
"Fragile support at best," Tavish replied.
"Aye." Angus poured wine into two cups, pushed one toward Tavish. "Dougal speaks fer a faction that wants Sinclair alliance regardless of cost. They see gold and military strength, nae the trap it represents."
"How large is this faction?"
"Three council members openly. Perhaps two more quietly.
" Angus's gaze sharpened. “Keir Sinclair is dangerous, aye.
But internal opposition can be worse. At least Keir's intentions are obvious.
Dougal and his allies work through whispers and manipulation.
They'll undermine ye slowly, erode support until the Council demands Maighread choose differently. "
"That could complicate things."
Angus's expression went serious. "Maighread needs someone who'll fight fer her nae out of duty but because losing her would destroy him. Someone who'll face down Keir, the Council, and any other threat because the alternative is unthinkable. Can ye be that man, Tavish?"
The question landed harder than expected. Three days ago, this had been obligation.
Now the thought of Keir touching Maighread made rage boil in his chest. The memory of her hands gentle on his wounds made something warm unfurl beneath his ribs. Her laugh, her stubbornness, her fierce intelligence—all of it tangled into feelings he couldn't name and didn't want tae examine.
"I can be that man," he said quietly. "I already am that man, whether I planned it or nae."