The Highlander's Destiny (Highland Rogues #2) - Mary Wine Page 0,50

It was Gilmor who spoke up. “What need have we of a hellion?”

The hall filled with hushed arguments as the McKay debated the issue.

“Cora Mackenzie is strong,” Yestin made his position clear. “A child gets half its blood from the mother. Faolan is strong enough to get a saddle on her.”

There were more grumblings in response. But Yestin was looking straight at Faolan. The senior captain’s gaze made it plain he was set on making sure Faolan bent to his demand.

“Noreen Grant has two unwed younger sisters,” Gilmor spoke up. “And we know for sure the Grants want to be in an alliance with us. The Mackenzies might consider themselves well rid of their unbridled wench.”

“Oh, aye,” Yestin agreed. “Four sisters in all. That bloodline has plenty of female offspring.”

Faolan ground his teeth. His frustration was high, but the laird’s marriage was a matter for the clan to discuss.

“I have never made becoming laird me purpose,” Faolan said. “Yet, I will not shrink from the place I was born into. Cast yer vote according to yer conscience in relation to me.”

At the fount of the hall, there were two buckets. One held dark stones. The other had white ones. Two of the Retainers lifted them high and poured them into a single trough. An old basket with a broken handle was placed over the top of it. One of the men used a knife to cut a hole in the basket. Just a small one, which would allow each man to drop a rock into the bucket without showing the color to anyone else. The McKay Retainers stood and gathered on the far side of the hall. A row of benches was lined up down the center. After each man cast his vote, he would go to the other side of the hall.

The three priests stood near the back. They would be the witnesses who watched to ensure no man voted twice. Once the votes were cast, the priests would turn the bucket over and count the stones in front of everyone.

The final move was for Faolan and the captains to leave the high ground where the laird’s table was. The senior captains sat there with their laird for meals. Now, they used the stairs on either side to descend to the ground level so they might not see what color stone any man took.

The voting didn’t take very long. Faolan watched as the priests separated the stones. It wasn’t the clearly larger pile of white stones that drew his attention. No, Faolan found himself pondering the pile of dark stones.

A third of the clan was against him.

His mother would have told him not to spare them a thought.

Malcolm would have surely informed Faolan that he was soft for caring at all.

Fate had somehow delivered him to the position his mother had always claimed was his by right.

And that he could keep Cora if he pleased.

*

Orla wasn’t going to budge a bit.

The Head-of-House met Cora in the passageway outside the kitchens.

“Ye are no’ the mistress,” she declared firmly.

“What I am is not lazy,” Cora countered. “So, I will be doing something of worth.”

Orla raised an eyebrow. There was a flicker of something in her eyes which might have been approval, but it was cut short by the way the Head-of-House narrowed her eyes.

“What would a pampered daughter of a laird know about being useful?” Orla demanded.

“A Head-of-House worth anything would know how to test me,” Cora boldly challenged the woman.

There were a dozen women straining to get a look at the confrontation. Cora kept her gaze on Orla as those women stared.

“I’ll not see the men of the McKay suffering a poor supper due to yer lack of skill.” Orla shook her head “And ye will no’ be setting eyes on the books of the McKay until ye are the lady of the house.”

Orla’s lips curved as she decided on a chore to assign Cora.

“The proper place to test out any worth ye might have is the laundry. If ye can nae see to the cleaning, well, ye do nae know very much about running a house.”

It was a lowly task, and yet, Orla wasn’t necessarily wrong about how important it was. Disease spread through a dirty house. So those who cleaned it were essential.

Cora sent the Head-of-House a smile. Orla’s confidence wavered just a bit in the face of Cora’s confidence. Of course, it was going to cost Cora. Ahead of her was a long day of scrubbing with