Chapter 4
Tavin leaned against his chair as he surveyed the dimly lit tavern, stretching his weary legs out before him. He had ridden long and hard to get to this tavern, wearing out his horse in the process.
Now he was enjoying a tankard of ale while watching those coming and going, attempting to pick up any information that he could about the McPherson clan and their new leader.
A lass, as a leader of a clan. Tavin had not heard of it in many years.
What he did know about the McPherson clan was that the former laird and his sons had been much like them, yet they were able to stay in favor with the other clans.
There was also rumor of three daughters, one of which had taken her da’s place when he was removed from his seat after attacking the Campbell clan.
Tavin sighed as he listened to the murmur of voices and laughter around him, wishing he were in a much quieter place than this evening.
He wanted to be back on Stuart land, at the small creek that ran through a meadow not far from the keep, catching fish that he would then prepare for him and the caretaker.
The simple life. That was what he wished for. Being the son of a laird, even a cursed clan, meant that there was no peace.
Especially not with them out taking what should have been theirs.
“Och aren’t ye a large one?”
Tavin looked up at the serving wench standing at his table, a curious look on her face. “What?”
“I’ve never seen ye in here before,” she stated, placing her hand on her hip. “Traveling through?”
He nodded, holding up his tankard so she could refill it, and sliding a coin across the table that quickly disappeared. “Tell mah what ye know of McPherson.”
The girl wrinkled her nose. “The old laird or that lass?”
“The lass,” he replied, gesturing toward the chair across from him.
The girl stole a glance at the man behind the bar before plopping down, leaning over so that Tavin could see her ample breasts barely constrained by her shirt. “Ye will have tae pay for mah time.”
Tavin reached into his tunic again and pulled out a few more coins, pushing them across the table. “That should be more than enough.”
She gave him a saucy smile. “The lass, what do ye want tae know?”
He gave her a shrug, not wanting to appear too eager. “I hear she’s not married.”
Waving a hand at him, the girl looked away. “That will change. I hear the elders are forcing her hand with the gathering.”
Tavin sat up straighter in his chair, the words sending a chill down his spine. “The gathering?”
The girl picked at her sleeve. “Ye know, where all the clans come together. I hear there’s going tae be a contest for her tae pick a laird.”
Tavin was no longer listening to her words.
He took a gulp of the sour ale so that his throat would no longer feel parched.
The gathering. He had not attended one since that day, so long ago, where he had learned the truth about his family.
His brothers had jeered him, but Tavin had always stayed behind.
Had his da known about the gathering? “It is gonna be held at the McPherson land?” Tavin asked, though he already knew the answer.
She nodded. “Mah uncle has been talking aboot it for weeks now.”
That was all Tavin needed to hear. He drained the remainder of the ale and stood, giving the girl a curt nod before walking out of the tavern.
That was the real reason his da had picked McPherson.
With the gathering going on, there would be less focus on the keep, less warriors to defend, and they could sneak in.
Tavin imagined that it wouldn’t be easy unless the clan was in unrest because of the change in rule.
There would be only one way to find out.
Tavin walked to the barn, thinking about the gathering and the contest. If there truly was a contest for eligible Scots for the lass’s hand, then he could enter himself in and come up with a background that would be suitable to be in competition.
It wouldn’t be hard to do.
Tavin found his horse, now rested from the hours he had spent in the tavern and replaced the saddle before climbing on and leading it out of the barn and into the cool night air.
The movement settled him and Tavin breathed in deeply, trying to clear his troubled thoughts as he made his way onto McPherson land.
He could be charming when he needed to, one of the traits that his brothers did not possess.
He could be part of another clan, adapting to their ways so that no one questioned his presence. Tavin always liked to choose a large clan for that reason, so that there were so many clan members that anyone who did start asking, he could blend into the mixture of names.
This time, he would be a member of the Ivanish clan, a large clan that would likely be at the gathering and in large numbers. His tartan was plain, which he would remedy once he arrived and was able to steal the correct one.
Then he would approach the new leader and learn her secrets. It did help that she was a lass and not the laird, for his plan of attack would be completely different.
And the clan wanted her to find a husband. It was as if the stars were aligning on this one.
Tavin allowed the horse to plod along as he thought about what he would do once he arrived in the village. With the gathering now on the horizon, the village would be teeming with outsiders, so he would not stick out as he first thought.
It would be a sight harder not to be noticed from those that knew the Stuart clan and his sons. Tavin would have to be careful to stay away from those that he had met in the past to ensure that he wouldn’t be found out and his plans ruined.
When the trees finally parted, Tavin stopped to gaze at the keep in the distance.
He could tell that there were still repairs going on, but the keep was still formidable in the moonlight.
Tavin moved the horse along the well-worn path to the village, surprised to see the huts in various states of repair as well, with fields of sprouting crops in the distance.
Tavin had only been to the McPherson keep once in his life—when he was younger. His da had come to discuss business with the former laird and the village they had ridden through looked nothing like the present and more like Clan Stuart’s.
But this looked nothing like his birthplace. What was the current laird offering her clan? Was she burning through their coffers in an effort to bring the elders to her side?
Or was she making promises to her clansmen by repairing the huts in anticipation of taxing them heavily by their crops? It was what his da did, though Tavin had started noticing that there were more huts in their own village empty because of his father’s taxing.
It was hard to gauge who was in the village, as it was the middle of the night, but given the soft lights burning behind the wooden slats, nearly every hut was occupied.
Spying a barn nearby, Tavin guided the horse to the back before dismounting, pulling his bag off the back before testing the doors.
They opened easily under his touch and Tavin walked in, feeling immediately at ease at the smell of horse and hay.
He reached for his horse and guided the sweating beast in, shutting the door behind him.
There was no one about and Tavin was already formulating his own story for the morning when the McPherson caretaker would arrive.
Horses snickered softly, their tails swishing as Tavin found an empty stall, setting about removing the saddle and brushing the horse down. The motions were familiar and Tavin felt a pang in his chest as he thought of home. What was his da doing now?
His brothers?
They were likely not thinking about him. He imagined they were drunk from their consumption of ale and whiskey, chasing after the serving wenches and warming their bed with them.
Tavin snorted and quickly finished his chores, pulling out his own bedroll and laying it in another empty stall so that his horse wouldn’t accidentally trample him in the middle of the night.
Once his body started to relax, Tavin let out a long breath.
He had a task before him, one that was far different than anything he had done for his da before.
He had to woo the lass and steal her secrets.