Chapter 8
To Erik, Fiona seemed anxious, but doing a good job hiding her anxiety from those who did not yet know her.
Seeing the people she was now responsible for must be daunting.
For her sake, he regretted how quickly their betrothal and wedding had taken place, but he was glad as well.
She was here, and she had shown herself to be wise and brave.
He’d chosen well that day in Inverness. And if he’d had to defy Donas to marry her instead of the Munro lass who escaped with the Brodie, knowing Fiona as much and as little as he now did, he would have done so gladly.
“While ye were here and I waited for yer return at Rose,” Fiona began, “did ye say anything to the clan about where I came from? What I did in Inverness? I think I will tire of talking about myself if I have to tell my story individually to each person I meet.”
“They ken I met ye there a year or more ago, and they ken about the burned bridge, but I didna talk about what ye did there. Ye never told me about yer time there, save what ye mentioned on the boat.”
“I didna?” Her brow creased as she thought back. “Nay, I didna. ’Tis simple enough.” She told him her tale, including running from Inverness when everyone thought it would burn along with the bridge. “I havena had a chance to return, so I dinna ken if…anything in the town still stands.”
The pause in that statement made Erik think she was hiding something.
But what? Had she had a lover there? Nay, he’d seen her virgin’s blood on their sheets before they left Rose, and not the sheet she’d prepared on their wedding night when she feared he would need her help confronting the Rose laird.
Friends, then. Or favorite shopkeepers and shops?
From growing up in the Rose keep, to living in a large town caring for a well-to-do widow, to returning to the Rose keep, Fiona had lived in places much more impressive than where he’d brought her.
He still wondered if she was disappointed.
Did she regret her choice? He wanted to know, but here in full view of much of the clan was not the place to have that discussion.
They’d speak about it when they were alone in his cot, not where others could overhear.
One of Donas’ old partisans, Osgar, caught Erik’s attention.
Not on purpose, surely, but Erik noticed him watching Fiona closely, and with a frown that boded ill.
Erik would not have thought she noticed, save that her gaze kept shifting in that direction and quickly away again, so the man’s scrutiny was making her uneasy.
Trouble within the clan was still brewing.
He did not want Fiona to be the target of any threats or violence.
He would speak to the man to make sure he understood that retribution would be swift and savage for any kind of harm to his wife.
Surely sudden brutality was something Donas’ remaining men understood.
Donas had been a cruel man and a terrible leader. Hence the state of the clan now.
Erik fought not to follow his example. But he was frustrated with the slow pace of the work he wanted done, the many delays and disruptions that he had no doubt were the work of Donas’ men.
As yet he could not prove which man or several men were leading the resistance.
Nor could he afford to round up every man who might still support their late laird, or he’d lose a significant part of his workforce and anger the rest. Eventually, he would discover who the troublemakers were, and he’d deal with them in a way they understood.
In the meantime, Tormod was keeping an eye on their chief suspects, making it clear that they were being watched, though those men seemed not to care.
Did they think they would soon resume being in charge?
Was there a rival for the lordship other than Teague, one working behind the scenes?
If so, it might explain the lost missive as a deliberate attempt to prevent the alliance and weaken Erik.
Fiona’s presence was a sign of their failure to do so, but Erik feared the other ways they could weaken him, none of them good for his wife.
Two days later, Fiona had met with Erik’s tanist and other close advisors about their needs and their wishes for the clan’s future.
Those conversations gave her a better idea of how to handle the rest of her meetings with clan members.
She would speak to most of the women alone so that they would be able to speak freely, without coaching from the men in their lives.
A few might request their husband’s presence, and of course, Fiona would allow it.
But, in their cot after supper that evening, Erik drew the line at her meeting alone with the men of the clan.
“Tormod and my other advisors are men I trust,” he told her as they talked, seated by a low fire in the hearth. “But ye are too lovely, too tempting, to closet yerself alone with any of the rest. I willna have ye treated badly in any way.”
“I have been taking care of myself in Inverness for years. I think I can do that here as well,” she objected with a bit more bravado than she actually felt. Some of the Ross men looked so big and rough, the idea of being alone with them scared her.
“Ye ken ye’ve been watched.”
“Aye. And some disapprove of me. I canna change their opinion of me if I canna speak to them.”
Erik scrubbed a hand through his hair, disordering it. “Ye can do that, but only with someone else present. Me, or Tormod, for instance. No’ another lass. They canna protect ye, nor ye them, from a determined attack.”
“Erik, I dinna wish to be a problem. I agreed to this marriage to help ye and this clan, as well as for the alliance with Rose. If I canna win over the Ross men with my experience running a household or a keep, and my willingness to listen to their ideas and use them to try to make life better here, what good am I to ye? Do ye think I should just smile and simper and charm them into submission?”
“Ye are no’ the problem. They are. And nay, charm willna work. They will interpret it as…aught else and move on ye. Then I will have to kill them.”
Fiona reared back. “Ye jest poorly.”
“I dinna jest. Ye are lady of this clan. Any man who attacks ye deserves the punishment I mete out to him. Not only for ye, but for ye as the clan’s lady. Ye must be untouchable—save by me—and respected for the position ye hold and the burdens ye carry for the people of this clan.”
“I understand that, Erik, I do. We dinna rule. We serve. Mostly. But death is a permanent solution.”
“And sometimes justified. And nay, I dinna take it lightly. Even in battle, defending my life and those of my men, I never have and never will. ’Tis something that canna be taken back or fixed.
It pleases me that ye recognize its import, and the weight of it on the clan’s leaders.
On us. But ye dinna yet see how important ye are as this clan’s lady.
And ye dinna yet ken these people as well as I do.
I ken when a man’s interest is serious, and when ’tis meant as a compliment, nay more. ”
She spread her hands in exasperation. “And ye think I dinna? Erik, most any lass can tell the difference.”
Erik lowered his head and got a stubborn look on his face as he peered up at her. “But no’ all lasses, and no’ with all men. I willna risk ye.”
She took a moment to digest what he’d said.
He made sense, and he wanted to protect her.
Why would she argue with that? “I accept what ye say, but I will also say this,” she added, holding up a hand when he made to reply.
“Ye are no’ privy to all there is to ken about me, either.
I can defend myself, at least to some extent.
I am no’ helpless. Ye are intent on protecting me against all dangers.
Ye dinna need to do that. I take yer caution and will keep it in mind.
I’ll leave the big dangers to ye and deal with the rest myself.
And I will tell ye when I think a man is straying past compliments and working himself up to do more. ”
“Ye do ken sometimes that happens in a moment, and ye willna have time to inform me.”
She couldn’t help it. She smirked. “Then I’ll scream.”
Fiona soon had reason to be glad of the conversation she’d had with Erik.
As early as the next day, the man who’d stared her down at the first supper after she arrived was at her door.
If this man wanted to threaten or harm her, he could not have picked a better time.
Both Erik and Tormod were out of the village at the moment with most of the other men, felling trees and unearthing rocks to be used in the curtain wall that was Erik’s obsession.
She didn’t know how this interview would go, but Erik had put her on her guard. “Osgar, be welcome,” Fiona greeted him.
“I was told to come to ye. What do ye need?”
No “milady” or “Lady Ross” or even just “Fiona.” He was off to a bad start.
She gestured him to a seat at their small table and took one closer to the door she left open, across from him, both in case she needed an avenue of escape, and to put the barrier of the table between them.
Erik’s warnings were sounding loudly in her head.
She didn’t know this man, but she did know the signs of male arrogance, and they weren’t encouraging.
“Ye are here to help me understand what Ross needs, and how I can help the clan. I want everyone to have their say. To be heard.”
Her guest snorted. “So if I tell ye that Ross needs the wealth of the French crown and all the land from here to the English border, ye will make a plan to achieve all that?”