A Hardened Warrior

by McQueen, Hildie

  The question took Tristan by surprise. “He carries the yoke of laird well. Works all day with the clan’s people. I think they are testing him, and finding he is harsher than father was.”

  Kieran seemed to mull over what Tristan had said. “He is a good man.”

  “Ye are as well, Brother.”

  “Why do ye say that?” Kieran snapped. “I do not care to be a good person. I care for nothing.”

  “Ye care for me and our family.”

  “Do not be fooled.” Kieran stood and stalked out from the room.

  Naill huffed. “He is like a rabid boar lately.”

  “He is still Kieran. Time will help.”

  Although Tristan felt a duty to defend his brother, at the same time he wondered if his brother would soften over time. Sullen and withdrawn since he was a young man, a series of events had changed him forever. The dying of their father in his presence had only made it worse. Perhaps Kieran cared for no one. In truth, he would not be surprised if it was so.

  Two days later, there were no signs of the other clan returning. Tristan rode Duin to the edge of the field where the battle had been. The bodies of the dead were gone and he assumed Sutherland men had come during the night and retrieved them.

  In the distance, Kieran appeared. Riding a black warhorse, his younger brother returned from checking on the archers who remained on post. Even from the distance, Kieran was impressive. Large and muscular, he didn’t look like most of the archers who, for the most part, were lithe. His brother was an expert marksman with the bow and arrow, but also impressive with a sword. When Kieran neared and met his gaze, the ever-present scowl on his face, Tristan noted a deep scratch across his cheek.

  “What happened to yer face?”

  “Branch,” Kieran replied, wiping blood away with his arm.

  Tristan inspected the wound. “Ye sure it was not from an irate lass? Perhaps someone finally bested the champion?”

  His brother did not jest, ever. Instead, his scowl deepened. Interesting that of the three, Kieran was the most striking and also, perhaps, the most feared.

  His features often took people by surprise. Perfect is what he was often described as. With a regal nose, long-lashed, light hazel eyes and lips that women desired, it was hard for most not to take note. Of course, being he was never of good temper, most people did their best to avoid him.

  “Can we talk?” Tristan said, dismounting. “Tis important.”

  He decided it was best to approach Kieran when they were out and away from the others.

  Kieran dismounted and loosed his horse to graze. Tristan didn’t trust Duin to do the same, so he held the animal’s reins. Then when noting the animal seemed relaxed enough, he dropped them.

  “I have never seen that horse before,” Kieran said, studying Duin. “Where did ye get him?”

  Tristan took a breath. “He belongs to my wife.”

  “Wife?” Kieran narrowed his eyes. “What happened?”

  “The Mackenzie beckoned Malcolm to a meeting. I went in his stead. While I was there, the Mackenzie demanded I marry a woman of his choosing. In an effort to keep his territory safe, he made many demands of our clan. Most were refused.

  “A Munro?” Kieran asked and Tristan wondered if it was Kieran’s way of hoping what he dreaded was not true.

  “Nay. A McLeod.”

  Kieran inhaled sharply and he glared at Tristan, his mouth twisting into a snarl. “Why would ye agree?”

  “Both me and the McLeod did not agree to it. I did my best to dissuade the Mackenzie and when he would not bend, I put him off. I waited for Uncle Gregor to come and arbitrate a different outcome. However, the Mackenzie would not change his mind.”

  Still as a statue, the only thing that moved were Kieran’s lips as they formed a tight line. “Peace will never be achieved as long as Ethan McLeod lives.”

  “They are aware we will never cease to hunt him.”

  “What else?” Kieran knew him enough to sense Tristan was holding something back. Already surprised at the fact his brother was somewhat rational, he wondered if he should tell the man everything.

  “I married Merida McLeod. Malcolm and I met with the McLeod after returning home. We demanded Ethan’s head, but he refused. The McLeod said that he was confined.”

  “Ye believe him?”

  “No.”

  Tristan paused. “Kieran,” Tristan began and stopped at the dangerous gleam in his brother’s eyes. “There is more.”

  Silence stretched, so Tristan began to speak. “I left the Mackenzie keep without waiting for word to be sent to either clan about the marriage. I was angry and did not wish to remain and give the Mackenzie time to come up with other demands. We were attacked. Uncle Gregor was injured.”

  Kieran’s eyes bored into Tristan’s, but he did not speak.

  “He is recovering, but one of our men died.”

  “McLeods?”

  “Aye.”

  “Is there anything else, Brother?” Kieran spoke between clenched teeth.

  “Other than a temporary truce with the McLeods, no. That is all.”

  Kieran went to his horse, mounted and looked down to Tristan. “I do not know how ye and Malcolm could stand to be near even one of them. The McLeods killed our father and now ye bring one into our home? I will not live with a McLeod. She must leave.”

  “We are married. I made a vow…”

  “No one would have been the wiser if ye had killed her during the attack. The McLeods would have been blamed.”

  His brother rode off. Tristan cursed and raked both hands down his face. Hopefully, Kieran would calm before returning to the keep. He turned to look for Duin, but the cursed horse had gone.

  “Argh!”

  Chapter Twenty

  Merida took a tentative step, glad that her ankle did not ache as much as before. Although she didn’t want to overdo it, she hated depending on anyone to help her about. Certainly, the guard who helped her didn’t seem to mind, but she’d caught him looking down her bodice already more than once.

  Elsa, her companion, entered, her eyes wide. “Two women have arrived. They seem very cross and agitated.”

  “Who are they?” Merida asked.

  “I do not recognize them.” Not that either of them would recognize anyone there. Elsa went to the bed and began smoothing the bedding.

  “I will not remain here cowering.” When she stepped out of the chamber Merida shared with Tristan, the corridor was empty.

  A plan in mind, she walked toward the stairwell. After a quick, simple meal, she’d decided to spend the morning with Elspeth. They planned an outing to the village, which she was both a bit scared of and excited for at the same time.

  Elspeth assured her the villagers wouldn’t be hostile toward her. “They are much more interested in the fact that we have a truce than who one of the laird’s family marries.”

  Hopefully, it was true.

  “I will not stand for it.” At an unfamiliar woman’s loud statement, Merida stopped in her tracks, halfway down the stairs.

  Two women with matching scowls glared at Malcolm. Next to him, Elspeth seemed at a loss, hands clutched together.

  The older woman of the two held up both hands, fingers like talons. “She must be sent away immediately. Neither Verity nor I will remain in this house with a woman from that clan. They killed yer father, have ye forgotten it so soon?”

  Lady Ross.

  Merida had hoped Tristan’s mother and sister would not return until after he did. There was no one to protect her now. Elspeth was barely tolerated by the woman, so she expected worse.

  Malcolm had never exchanged a word with her since she’d arrived. Now, she stood with her back against the wall, waiting to hear what they would decide to do.

  Already in her mind, she inventoried her belongings and decided that she and Elsa could leave immediately. Given a small cart, a horse could pull them and the few items she owned without problem.

  “Mother, pleas
e sit. Ye must be tired after yer travels.” Malcolm took the woman’s elbow. He motioned to a nearby servant. “Bring warmed cider.”

  Lady Ross allowed him to guide her to a chair, her expression not changing. “Tell me why ye allowed this to happen?”

  Verity must have sensed her presence because she turned and looked to Merida, her expression thunderous. “Why are ye spying on us?”

  “Go away,” Lady Ross exclaimed, following her daughter’s line of vision. “Far away.”

  She was not about to be treated as an inferior. Merida hitched her chin. A laird’s daughter did not coward.

  At Malcolm’s nod, Elspeth went to Merida. “Come, let us break our fast in the kitchen.”

  They made their way to the back of the room, all the while sensing the two women’s glares.

  “She is Tristan’s wife and will remain. Both of ye will accept it or ye are welcome to move to the smaller house.” Malcolm’s response made Merida stumble forward. Had Laird Ross just stood up for her?

  “How can ye do this?” Lady Ross shrieked and jumped to her feet. “I will not stand for this.”

  “Tis yer choice.”

  Elspeth slowed upon noticing that Merida was having trouble keeping up. They were in the corridor just outside the kitchens.

  Face flushed, Elspeth looked around to ensure they were alone. “She acted the same way when I came here.”

  “I should leave,” Merida said. “I will never be fully accepted by the family. Imagine what it will be like when Kieran returns.”

  “No doubt, Tristan is preparing him. He did plan to inform his brother of what happened since he left did he not?” Elspeth patted her on the arm.

  “In truth, we did not speak of it. We spoke of little, barely had any time.” Merida sighed suddenly, wishing Tristan were there. Not for the first time, she yearned for her husband. As foreign as it was, she’d come to think of him as her partner.

  They moved aside to allow a servant to scurry by with a tray of aromatic spiced cider.

  “Let us go eat,” Elspeth said. “This will all sort itself out.”

  Merida wasn’t sure it ever would. But she walked alongside Elspeth to the kitchens.

  Later that day, Merida and Elspeth remained in the sitting room. It was best to avoid the Ross women and not cause any further conflict. Merida looked to the doorway upon hearing footsteps and held her breath.

  “Why are ye in here?” Verity froze at the entryway and glared at Merida. “This is my sitting room.”

  Elspeth sighed. “Why are ye so disagreeable? As the laird’s wife, I have the final say when it comes to this home. Merida and I will sit wherever we wish.”

  The young woman had a round face and small mouth. The only resemblance to her brothers was the color of her eyes. Unfortunately, they were small and unremarkable. Merida wondered why the males in the family seemed to have been graced with the more agreeable features.

  Verity straightened and hitched her chin. “My brother will hear about this immediately.”

  “Malcolm is busy with much more important matters. If ye wish to sit in here alone, we will leave and go to the garden.” She looked to Merida. “It is much too beautiful a day to remain indoors in the gloom anyway.”

  They lifted their sewing baskets and walked out.

  Merida hesitated. “Would ye like to join us, Verity? Perhaps if we get to know each other, ye will think differently of me.”

  The woman’s mouth fell open and her small eyes widened. “I most certainly would not.”

  She wasn’t sure, but she thought she heard Elspeth giggle.

  “Lady Ross is worse,” Elspeth whispered. “I do not know how they can remain so disagreeable about everything.”

  The women had reason to hate her. Her brother had killed their husband and father. Followed by the war between the clans, there was a lot of resentment. It did not excuse the women’s behavior, but she did not begrudge them either. She supposed if a Ross had killed her father, she’d not wish to have a member of their family in her home either.

  As far as Elspeth went, Lady Ross probably expected that as laird, her son would marry a woman of higher standing.

  “Once Tristan returns, perhaps it would be best if he and I move to the smaller home and not displace Lady Ross or Verity.”

  They stepped outside. The day was, indeed, pleasant. The sun was shining and only a few clouds hovered in the sky. A pang of homesickness unsettled Merida and she blinked away tears. She and her mother always went for walks on days like these.

  “Would ye mind that we walk instead of sitting?” Merida asked Elspeth. “I tire of sitting about.”

  Elspeth gave her an impish grin. “I agree. I miss my long walks in the forest.”

  They walked around to the back of the keep. From there, they moved through a gate. Elspeth looked up to the roof and waved. A guard looked down then motioned another set of men, who also peered down. An archer gave Elspeth a sign to go ahead and the pair of women made their way down a small hill to an open field.

  “This is lovely,” Merida exclaimed at seeing a blanket of purplish flowers. “Why have we not come out here?”

  Elspeth sighed. “So much has been happening lately, it was only a few days ago that Malcolm allowed me to leave the security of the walls.” She motioned up to the roof where the men continued to peer down. “I have to ensure they are aware I am out here so we will be constantly watched.”

  “I don’t mind at all,” Merida said, turning in a full circle, her arms out. “The flowers smell delightful.”

  They meandered for a while, seeking out the different types of flowers and deciding which to pick to use and decorate the great room. Upon spotting a doe with a couple of young fawns, they crouched down and watched the animals until they disappeared into the trees.

  “Are the guards not afraid someone will come from the forest and attack?”

  “Nay,” Elspeth replied, looking to the trees. “These are Ross hunting grounds. Our guards are always out there in the forest either hunting for the day’s meal or ensuring there are no trespassers.”

  Merida’s father had an area that was designated for him as well. He was quite stern about anyone else coming onto that portion of his land. Usually a calm man, he lost his temper when a trespasser was brought before him. The trespasser was given a fine and made to remain locked in a cage in the center of the courtyard for three days with only bread and water.

  It was a light sentence but most found it embarrassing enough to deter them from repeating the offense.

  “When Tristan returns, ye should come out here and spend time together, talking and getting to know one another,” Elspeth counseled. “It is hard enough to be somewhere where ye feel uncared for without at least having yer husband’s support.”

  Merida nodded, her eyes misting. “I had a friend who I visited often. He lives in a cottage in the woods not far from my keep. I wonder what he is thinking, if he has tried to find me.”

  “Is he yer love?” Elspeth peered at her with interest. “What will ye do?”

  “No, Grier is a monk. A healer. He taught me a great deal about…”

  “A monk?” Elspeth said in a high tone. “Does he have a mole right here?” She pressed a finger to the left side of her face just below her nose.”

  “Aye, he does.” Merida’s mouth fell open. “Have ye met Grier?”

  “I think so.” Elspeth lifted both hands to her cheeks. “Can it be? I have often wondered what happened to him. Ye see, he taught me all I know about herbs and such. But I always called him ‘Teacher’. It was strange that I never asked his name.”

  “We must go find him,” Merida said with a smile. “Perhaps there is a way to get a message to him to meet us.”

  Elspeth thought about it. “We should.”

  *

  As clan’s people trickled in from the villages, the weight of responsibilities pressed down on Malcolm’s shoulders. His mother and sister remained sitting at the table with him. T
hey took turns demanding he remove Merida with the same arguments over and over. As much as he hated disappointing them, it was best to not make a decision without Tristan present.

  Verity would be gone soon to marry a son of the Munro laird. The wedding had already been postponed twice due to conflicts and winter. However, now that they’d returned from visiting, it would finally occur.

  “Perhaps I will go live with Verity, since my own son turns his back on me,” his mother sniffed. “Yer father would be so disappointed.”

  Not wishing the people arriving to hear, Malcolm stood. “We will continue to discuss this tonight. I must see to my duties. Please go to yer chambers and rest.”

  Hoping they’d do as he asked, Malcolm went to the high board and was joined by two of the clan’s advisors. Thankfully, there were not too many people there that day.

  A farmer came forward first to claim his herd of goats had been dwindling since the truce. He blamed McLeods, but given that his farm was in the southern portion of the lands, that was doubtful.

  “Warriors arrive,” a guard announced later that day. “Our warriors.”

  Malcolm hurried out and up the stairs over the gates. In the distance, he saw that about fifty men rode toward the keep. The battle, if there was one, was obviously in their favor and they didn’t bring any injured back with them.

  The head archer, Naill, raced toward the keep and Malcolm hurried down to the courtyard.

  “Aye, Laird,” Naill called out dismounting. The man grinned. “Twas a battle fought only by archers.”

  “Ours and theirs?

  “Mostly ours.” The large man came forward, a huge bow and filled quiver strapped to his wide back. “With less than half our number, it didn’t take long for them to realize they had no chance of winning.”

  “Any Ross injuries?”

  “Nay. Unless ye count a cut finger.” Naill held up his hand, showing a bandaged thumb. “Too quick on my drawing of arrows.”

  “That is unlike ye,” Malcolm replied in a light tone. He’d not become comfortable enough to allow his walls down around the warriors, preferring to keep a part of him sealed away. Men like Naill were not guaranteed to be alive longer than the next battle. Malcolm didn’t relish the idea of becoming close to someone only for them to die.