However, since it was convenient at this moment for Lochmore’s Chief, Rory’s father, to accept, he did. But with no word from the McCrieffs, it seemed they didn’t accept the terms.
Now, with no one here, it didn’t seem like anything at all.
‘It’s a trap,’ Paiden said.
‘Truly, that ridge wouldn’t be able to hide one horse and we’d hear them if they laid in wait. Where would they lay a trap?’
Rory looked behind at his men waiting for command. They were as restless as the mounts beneath them. They expected to let out a war cry today. Indeed, they’d feasted and bedded in celebration the night before in case today was their last.
If they returned now, it would be without gaining the honour of such celebration. If he returned to his father emptyhanded with no resolution or information, today might indeed be his last. His father wouldn’t allow such ambiguity. McCrieffs present or not, Rory’s only choice was to confront.
‘I’m crossing,’ Rory said. When Paiden pulled his horse only slightly more ahead, Rory stopped. ‘The others didn’t move.’
‘That’s because you didn’t give the signal to move.’
‘Exactly, so what are you doing?’
‘You can give the men commands all that you want, but I’ll still be by your side.’
‘When I’m Chief—’
‘You can give me orders and I won’t cross you in front of others, but until then... Forget it.’
When he was Chief. Not yet. Not without his father’s death and an elder’s approval. But Rory hadn’t been concerned for approval because of this honour today of leading his men to confront the McCrieffs. To demand why they ignored a king’s decree and a clan’s chief.
For months, the firm conclusion as to why the McCrieffs had ignored the decree and messages was that they contested the claim. So in the last message the Lochmores had arranged this day. To meet and agree or if not, to fight. The McCrieffs made no reply, but that, too, wasn’t a concern. For no Highlander would be so cowardly as to ignore a challenge and the last missive was a challenge.
Thus, because he was the only son, the only child of the Lochmore Chief, he wore the best armour his clan owned and wore a sword he’d sharpened himself. The McCrieffs had all to gain with his death and they would not claim it. This was to be his day to prove himself to his father, to his clan. To himself. It was all to be his. His to battle, wrest and claim.
If no blood was to be found on this side of the water, he’d simply ride forward to find it. The hatred between the Lochmores and McCrieffs was too deep for there not to be some argument this day. Some trophy to be won so when he did face his father again, Finley would give his proud approval. Rory would never give up until he finally obtained it.
‘If I can’t rid myself of you...’ Rory sighed with exaggeration ‘...then the others will want to ride as well.’ With his arm raised, he drew a large circle in the air. Whatever might come, this land was his to ensure this day and ensure it he must. For once, he’d be the Lochmore his father wanted him to be.
Copyright © 2019 by Harlequin Books S.A.
ISBN-13: 9781488047381
The Highborn Housekeeper
Copyright © 2019 by Sarah Mallory
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The Highborn Housekeeper (Saved From Disgrace Book 3) Page 23
