brothers. There was a new sense of manliness about the lads, a determined set to their jaws, an unspoken purpose that Aidan hadn’t seen before, and he feared the source.
Deacon had recruited them. When the time came, they would march against the English.
On the return trip, he nudged Beaumains closer to Fang’s horse. Ahead of them, Hugh, Deacon and the boys were making outrageous wagers and laughing whenever someone lost.
“Are you really going to let your sons go with Robbie and Deacon Gunn?” he asked Fang.
The old man’s eyes hardened and then softened on a weary sigh. “Do I have a choice? Thomas and Douglas are men full grown. William and Andrew are old enough to make their own decisions, too.”
Aidan rode in silence for a moment, then said, “I have known your sons since the youngest was a toddler. I don’t want to see them go to war.”
“Strange words from the descendant of Fighting Donner Black. Especially since Deacon told me you were in.”
“He did?” Aidan frowned. “He goes too far. I have yet to commit myself.”
“But you are smuggling in the gunpowder.”
A trap seemed to close in around Aidan. “Aye.”
“Then you are in, Laird.”
Aidan rubbed the polished leather of Beaumains, reins between his gloved fingers. “I hope to avoid it. My family knows first-hand war is never a solution. My grandfather taught me the lesson.”
Fang shook his head in sad agreement. “Aye, but sometimes, Laird, a man must make his own decisions—even if it has dangerous consequences. I canna stop my sons from being the men they must be. They are young and full of spirit. If there is a war, they will go.”
“Would you join them?”
There was a heartbeat of silence. “Do I have a choice? I must protect them. I canna let them go without me. They are my heart.”
The trip lost all of its luster for Aidan after Fang’s words. The Mowats were an important part of Aidan’s clan. He couldn’t imagine not having them around Kelwin…if there still would be a Kelwin.
Deacon had been right. Too soon the time would come when he could no longer hover between the two factions but must choose a side. Either way, his clan stood to lose.
The sun was setting when they rode into the courtyard where Fang’s youngest sons and their friends waited to take in the horses. They loved to act as Aidan’s groomsmen.
Handing Beaumains’ reins to Davey, he paused, listening. “Why are the dogs barking?”
“Because you are here, Laird. They’ve been happy up till now,” Davey said.
“Where are they?”
“In the stables.”
The stables? Aidan had always given them the run of his estate.
Sure enough, when one of the boys opened the stable doors, the whole group of hounds charged Aidan, who rubbed their heads with true affection.
“What are you doing out here?” he asked them.
Davey answered. “Our lady said they’d be happier here with the other animals and so they have been.”
Aidan frowned. Anne had ordered the dogs to the stables? He turned to Fang. “Will you come in?”
“No, Bonnie will be waiting.” He bade Aidan farewell and left with his sons.
Aidan nodded. Hugh and Deacon had already gone in. He followed and then stopped abruptly when he discovered them standing in the doorway leading to the great hall, expressions of stupefied wonder on their faces.
He pushed his way through, and then it was his turn to gape. The room was more than clean; it sparkled. The rushes were gone, but he didn’t notice their absence until he’d been favorably impressed by all the other changes.
Two chairs sat in front of the hearth with a small footstool for comfort and a colorful rag rug for warmth. The table had been set with covers over delicious smelling food. Hot food.
Hugh’s stomach grumbled. When the other two looked at him, he whispered, “I can’t help it. I’m hungry.” He entered first, heading for the table. Halfway across the room, he made a small circle and said happily, “Can you believe it? It’s a miracle.”
“It’s not a bloody miracle. It’s housekeeping,” Deacon muttered as he marched in a straight line for the ale keg by the fireplace.
The dogs followed him in, but they too acted out of place. Some moved toward the fire, York charged after Hugh, but they all ended sitting on the floor, their brown eyes searching the room as if asking where the bones and smells had gone. They were obviously ill-at-ease without them.
“Tiebauld, you should come eat.” Hugh pulled his chair out at the table.