The Seer - Hildie McQueen Page 0,38
get to test it.”
Alasdair expected that the laird to dissolve any agreements between them.
“I am tired of secrets. I do not know what to think of ye doing this Niven,” Laird Sinclair looked to Niven. “However, being ye and my two children were in this together, it is something we will deal with once Guiles recovers. Perhaps ye can tell me about yer foolish plans.”
The laird looked past Niven and frowned. “The so-called resistance ends today.”
“Aye Laird,” Niven replied. “On my word.”
“As far as ye,” the man studied Alasdair for a long moment. “I am forced to reconsider your betrothal to my daughter.”
“Laird, we wish to marry. My fealty remains yours.”
The laird let out a breath. “I must ponder on it.”
Alasdair hated that he could not see his future. This would have been a time he wanted to know what would happen.
Once everything was over and the true killer was divulged, it could come to be that Laird Sinclair would have him escorted off the lands.
Alasdair could tell that Laird Sinclair grew weary, but the time of the truth was at hand.
The laird sat back with a cup in hand, the ale becoming too warm to drink, but he didn’t seem to notice.
“Some days I grow tired what has to be done to protect others,” Laird Sinclair admitted.
Looking to the doorway, Alasdair allowed for time to pass before replying.
“Once this is over, I sense a long time of peace.”
The Laird looked to the doorway where guards remained not allowing anyone into his study. No one would think it odd since an assault had been made on his son. Of course, most thought Guiles to be dead. That he was exhausted played into the role of grieving father, so for that he was thankful.
No one had come as yet and several days had passed since Guiles’ attack. Alasdair had no doubt whoever was responsible for the attack would appear soon.
Guiles grew restless but did not complain.
His betrothed was not doing well. Fiona had grown despondent. It was best she not knew that truth yet. Just earlier, Fiona had rushed from his study wailing with despair at being turned away again. For that Alasdair felt guilty.
The less people that knew Guiles was alive, the easier it would be for their plan to work..
“Laird. Donall Muir is here to speak to ye,” a guard announced.
“Allow him in.” The laird motioned for Alasdair to come sit to his right.
“Donall Muir.” Laird Sinclair didn’t look surprised. Alasdair was told that Donall had been in his guard since a youth, but he’d never been fully trusted.
Donall entered, his face devoid of expression. “Laird,” he lowered his head. “I must speak to ye of a very private matter.”
When Alasdair did not move, the Laird motioned to him. “Alasdair will remain.”
Sinclair wasn’t stupid enough to send the guards away. Instead he called out, “Guards move away from the door but remain within shouting distance.”
Seeming satisfied, Donall looked to a chair. Laird Sinclair pretended not to notice. He stood. “What happens?”
“There are rumors that Guiles has died.” Donall assumed a stricken expression, his eyebrows pinched and the corners of his mouth downturned. “Ye will remain without an heir.”
“That is true. I have no other sons.”
Alasdair caught a gleam in Donall’s eyes before he lowered his gaze. “I am not worthy of course being bastard born. That said, ye can declare me yer son. As such, I can be yer heir.”
Laird Sinclair cleared his throat. “Yer mother continues to maintain I am yer father then?”
“It must be true. She has never wavered. There is a resemblance also, I have asked, and others agree.”
Laird Sinclair ran his hands over his face. “The time between when I lay with yer mother and yer birth was too far apart for ye to be my son. I have told ye this. Over a year passed.”
“Mother claims ye are mistaken. She says it was more than once.”
“Enough Donall. Ye are not my son. If ye were, I would not hesitate to claim ye. This is not the time to come to me demanding I declare that ye are. My true son is...”
“Dead.” Donall leaned forward, spittle forming at the corners of his mouth. “Ye need an heir. I am yer blood. Declare me yer son, or else...”
“Ye’ll have someone kill Dallis?”
The man stumbled backward, his face paling. “What? No. Why would I do that?”
“Because ye ordered the hapless man down in my dungeon to do it. What are ye holding over his head that he