The Highlander's Destiny (Highland Rogues #2) - Mary Wine Page 0,51

lye. The skin on her hands would peel, and her eyes burn.

But there was no way she was going to cry quarter.

*

Being laird meant adopting the art of negotiation.

Balance would be a key factor.

Faolan found himself faced with his first challenge as he stared down Malcolm’s captains. Dismissing them all would be a tactical error. But failing to keep some of his own men would leave him unable to sleep because he would be waiting to see who snuck into his chambers to slit his throat.

“Every one of ye has served the McKay well,” Faolan began. “I would not discredit yer service. Yet, I would include me own men among the number of captains.”

“We understand yer need to have one of yer own among our ranks, Laird,” Yestin remarked. “The matter can be simplified by having Gilmor step back down. As the youngest among us, he’ll have the opportunity to rise back up in time.”

Gilmor wasn’t in agreement. But the rest of the captains nodded because it preserved their own places. Faolan tempered his impulse to dismiss them all. Aye, they’d all stood silent why he was banished, but the truth was, getting away from Noreen had pleased him greatly. Perhaps some of them had held their tongues because they understood how deeply their former mistress had sliced him.

“That’s sound thinking,” Gainor said. “And Gilmor, lad, ye need no’ worry about feeling slighted. Yer time will come again.”

The rest of the captains nodded in agreement. As far as a first act as laird, it seemed smooth enough. But Faolan felt a tingle on his nape. There wasn’t time to act on it, though. Gilmor left the room that served as the laird’s private office, and the captains immediately brought forward matters waiting for his attention.

There were defenses to consider and winter supplies to check. Investments and rents all had to be managed while keeping in touch with the outside world. Sealed letters were waiting to be opened and discussed, while the towers he’d so recently called his own needed another man to be assigned the task of building and defending.

Faolan threw himself into the effort. For so many years, he’d been unable to control the circumstances of his own life. Now, Fate had handed him a gift he’d never expected. He’d never joined the struggle for power, but he fully intended to be the laird needed to protect his clan.

*

His time would come again…

Gilmor fought back his rage.

Not because he thought he was wrong, but because he needed to think clearly enough to form a plan. Yestin had left him to rot. So, his future was going to be won solely by his own actions.

There was a giggle.

He looked up as Kalan scampered by. The eldest of Malcolm’s daughters was just four winters old. The child clutched a doll as her nurse, Mae, stuck close to her heels. There was a smile on Kalan’s face because she was too young to grasp the day’s events. The child spent far more time with her nurse than she ever had with her mother.

Kalan had no idea that she might be smothered in the dark hours of the night now that there had been a shift in power, and she represented the wrong bloodline.

Gilmor slowly grinned. McKay blood flowed through her veins. But more importantly, there was Grant blood, too. The Grants wouldn’t be very happy to hear of the shift in power inside the McKay clan. Not when the shift nullified their allegiance.

“Do ye want to play?”

Kalan had stopped and was staring up at him.

Gilmor smiled. He lowered himself to the ground, so he was level with the child. “I will send me aunt to play with ye, Kalan.”

Mae’s eyes widened. The nurse didn’t lack wits, and Gilmor stood and shot her a hard look. “Take yer charge to see me aunt.”

The nurse worried her lower lip in indecision.

“Ye can be useful to me or not.”

The nurse quickly lowered herself in obedience.

“I’ll go straight away,” Mae muttered.

She extended her hand, and Kalan took it immediately. Gilmor watched them disappear down the passageway. He turned when they were out of sight and went looking for his supporters.

Chapter Seven

“Ye slut!”

There was a crash and the sound of pottery breaking. Faolan turned away from the stairs he’d been making ready to climb.

“I thought to be rid of ye for the winter, and now ye are back and taking to thieving!”

The Head-of-House’s voice bounced between the stone walls of the passageway, which ran between the towers.