Although Tristan assisted Malcolm most of the day, there was still much to do. Harvest time had to be considered. As houses were built for those displaced from the clan wars, people argued over who deserved to get one first.
His brother, who grew impatient with the constant quarreling, often stated, “Do as I say” and not giving any other explanations. In most cases, it was the only thing that could be said. It was impossible to make everyone happy.
Thankfully, at the moment, those in the room seemed to be calmed by the sight of food and the knowledge that they’d be sleeping in a warm place. He guided Merida to the front of the room, but she hesitated and looked to the back of the room.
A family sat huddled together at a table. The father was obviously ill, a constant coughing wracking his too thin body. The wife patted his back while trying to see after a crying babe in her arms and another two, who were still wee babes.
“Has anyone seen about them?” Merida asked, studying the family.
“Not yet. They wait to speak to Malcolm. Apparently, their cottage burned down and they’ve lost everything.”
“I will see about them. If that is agreeable to ye?”
He sighed, knowing it was useless to say no. “As long as ye promise to come back and eat.”
Merida nodded, already heading to where the family sat. Elspeth joined her and they began to speak to the family.
Already, they were housing too many people within the gates of the keep. Most were tradesmen and their families. Men that either produced goods or labor that benefited the clan were given a home and an area to work. It was obvious the sick man would not live much longer and the only thing he could offer was a widow and three orphans.
Farmers, herders and others lived in the surrounding lands or in the nearby villages would perhaps take the small family in.
Tristan settled next to Malcolm. “We should consider visiting the villages and seeing about settling people there. There is hardly any room left within the walls.”
His brother studied Elspeth and Merida who were now each holding one of the young children and speaking to the parents. “We must put a stop to those two constantly finding ways to add people to live here.”
Tristan nodded. “I agree.”
Moments later, Elspeth had fetched the healer and, together, they escorted the sick man from the room.
Merida sat down with the woman, attempting to help feed the squirming children.
“Have ye considered when ye will have bairns?” Malcolm asked, looking at Tristan.
“Nay. Merida is not with child as yet. Have ye?”
“I believe Elspeth is already with child. However, she has not deemed to tell me. Perhaps she wishes to wait and be sure.”
“Congratulations, Brother,” Tristan said, meaning it. He studied Merida and wondered if she would tell him right away when she suspected or if she would be like Elspeth and wait.
In the morning, Kieran and he were to escort their mother and sister to Munro lands.
They meant to ensure their safe arrival and remain for the marriage ceremony. Since Verity and her mother had insisted on going to live with the Munros, it meant more carts and items to be taken.
A wedding ceremony would take place a day or so after they arrived. Tristan did not look forward to being away from Merida, but given the animosity between the women, it was not a good idea for her to go.
Just then, Naill entered and approached. “Laird, two of our guards went out to patrol to the west. Only one returned. He is barely alive.”
“Where is he?”
“In the courtyard.”
The brothers hurried out to the courtyard where the healer was already tearing the man’s tunic away to inspect his injuries.
Just then, Kieran appeared, his face like stone as he looked down at the injured man. “Who did this?” he demanded of the pale man who groaned, obviously too far gone to form a coherent thought.
Tristan kneeled and took the man’s hand. “Can ye speak?”
“Eth…Eth…an McLeod…McLeod…” The man’s speech was slurred but he managed the words before his head fell sideways.
“He’s dead,” the healer said, his shoulders rounding. “Tis a wonder he lived long enough to come here.”
“I will hunt that dog down.” Kieran gritted out the words between clenched teeth. “I will find him and ensure he pays for every single thing he has done to our people.”
“Ye will proceed to Munro lands as planned.” Malcolm met both of their gazes and spoke in a low tone.
“Tristan, ye and twenty men will escort Mother and Verity.” He turned to Kieran. “Ye and yer men will go ahead of them as planned. This is not the time to lose our heads. We do not wish harm to come to either our mother or our sister.”
“Send others. Ye have plenty,” Kieran said with a scowl.
Malcolm straightened, his angered expression concentrated on Kieran. “Ye will do as I say.”
Like two bucks, the brothers sized each other up. They stepped away from the dead man, their gazes locked.
“Ye are wasting time hunting him alone. Ethan is mad. He will be his own undoing,” Malcolm said between clenched teeth. “Ye are becoming as mad as he is.”
Kieran swung, his fist barely missing Malcolm’s jaw since the older brother expected it.
Taking advantage of the momentum, Malcolm sunk his fist into Kieran’s midsection.
Kieran let out a loud oomph and doubled over. Within seconds, however, he swung again.
“Enough!” Tristan blocked Kieran’s swing which hit him on the shoulder. His brother was quite strong so it sent Tristan back a couple steps. “Yer fighting will not solve the problem at hand. Malcolm is right. Ethan is mad. Given time, he will not be able to resist the opportunity to attack.”
Kieran didn’t seem convinced. “How many Ross’ must die before we do something. Sending our men out has resulted in this.” He motioned to the dead man who was now being carted away.
“So far, ye hunting him alone has not yielded any results either,” Malcolm replied. “He is good at hiding.”
“He is but one man,” Tristan said. “Tis easy for him to remain unnoticed.”
Kieran straightened. “He is heading to our northern border. Ethan must think that I am still at the post.” His lips curved without mirth. “This is a good thing.”
Both Tristan and Malcolm knew it was useless to continue to argue with Kieran. He would do whatever he wished. Tristan’s only hope was that Kieran didn’t die because of his stubborn nature.
Then again, he, too, wanted revenge. Kieran had every right to avenge their father’s death.
As everyone dispersed, he followed a still furious Kieran toward the stables. “Ye have every right to seek revenge, Brother. I, too, wish Ethan Ross dead.”
“Then why do ye and Malcolm fight me every step of the way? Tis as if ye do not think I can accomplish it.”
“If anyone can, it is ye. However, there are so many other matters at hand. We cannot allow Ethan Ross to be more important than the well-being of our people.”
“Tell that to the dead man’s family.” Kieran stalked away.
*
“So soon?” The food on Merida’s plate lost its appeal and she fought not to cry. Her plans to see her mother hadn’t worked out and now that Tristan had to go away again, she would have to wait longer before going home.
It wasn’t Tristan’s fault, but she was angry just the same. Everything was about his family. They came first and although she knew it was unreasonable to resent it, she did. For almost an entire season, she’d not seen her mother or father. She missed Paige and even her father’s hounds.
“I promise to take ye to visit yer family upon my return.” Tristan covered her hand with his. “Do not be sad.”
Noting she was not eating, he leaned away from the table. “Perhaps we should go to our house. I must prepare since we depart early.”
Lady Ross spoke animatedly to Verity and Elspeth. “Yer
mother seems in good spirits.”
“Aye. She looks forward to moving, I suppose. She and Lady Munro are good friends. I fear the Munro will build a bigger home as people are spilling out of the current home.”
“And now yer mother and sister are going to live there as well,” Merida said, wondering what the appeal was.
“Mother is taken by Lady Munro’s affinity for entertaining. One of the reasons there are so many people there is the constant celebrations.”
“Yer mother likes festivities then?”
“And the gossip they bring,” Tristan replied.
She studied the woman who seemed relaxed despite the fact that she was about to leave her home. Eating with gusto and signaling for more mead, she chatted with her daughter, not seeming to run out of things to say.
“How do ye feel about her leaving?” Merida studied her husband who gave a one-shouldered shrug.
“Everything changed after Da was killed. This is a natural progression, I suppose. Malcolm, Kieran and I will form the new Clan Ross. Our families will grow here and we will set new traditions.”
Not only had Ethan’s actions changed the Ross Clan forever, but also the McLeod Clan. People had died and now new traditions and families formed. Although change was inevitable, the fact that it was precipitated by an irrational act made it seem all so unfair.
“Can we go home now?” she asked, leaning against Tristan. Suddenly, she was exhausted and wished for nothing more than to snuggle against the man she loved. Tomorrow, he would leave for days on end.
There was a bit of comfort that at least she would have Elspeth, Ceilidh and Elsa for company.
Upon entering their chamber, Tristan took her by the shoulders and met her gaze. “I do love ye, Merida, and will always return to ye.”
“See that ye do,” Merida replied. Without breaking eye contact, she unlaced her bodice and pushed her top down her shoulders.
Tristan watched with hooded eyes. His breathing hitching at her breasts coming free of the constraints and visible through the thin fabric of the chemise. Emboldened by the parting of his lips, she removed her top and then untied her skirts, letting the folds of fabric fall and pool at her feet.
The thin strap of her chemise fell off her right shoulder, the flimsy item barely concealing her nudity.
“Come to me,” Merida said, walking backward to the bed. “I want ye, Husband.”
Tristan yanked the belt from his waist, his breeches falling to his ankles. He fell upon her, his hard sex protruding and hard against hers.
With one hard thrust, he entered her and both of them cried out at the wonderful feeling.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Dawn arrived as Kieran rode, breaking through the trees to an open meadow. He’d slipped out quietly, not wanting to rouse the household and have another argument with Malcolm.
Just thinking about the day before filled him with rage. How could his brothers be so passive about Ethan Ross remaining alive?
The man would die and, if he guessed correctly, it would be soon.
In the distance, the outline of the small village meant he neared Munro lands. The Ross’ and the Munros had always been friendly to one another and now that his sister was about to marry one of the laird’s sons, it meant a bond was made.
In Kieran’s opinion, it was a good thing since it meant strong allies now formed almost a complete circle around McLeod lands.
If any kind of war began, the McLeod would be at a severe disadvantage. Strange that the women of his family seemed to be the ones doing something that was helpful against the McLeod.
He slowed the pace of his horse as they ambled at the edge of a wooded area. The closer he got to the northwest border, the more careful he had to be. Kieran studied the surroundings for any signs of human travel.
Some broken twigs on the ground meant someone had come by there not very long before him. Kieran dismounted to get a closer look.
After spending the night at a village on Munro lands, Kieran rose and went to fetch his horse, Laith, from the stables. There was already activity in the center of town, people preparing for the day.
As he led his mount away from the center of town, he watched for any signs of the dark-haired woman, but she was nowhere to be seen.
No matter, it was for the best that any notions of a woman not distract him. Especially now, since there was too much at stake.
In the distance, he spotted a woman. Pulling her skirts up, she ran as if the devil himself chased her.
Kieran narrowed his gaze and scanned the surroundings. No one was pursuing her. She didn’t look back but, instead, continued forward in the direction of the Munro keep.
Finding the sight interesting, he watched her as she seemed not to be in any danger, but more as if she had urgency to get wherever she went.
Her hair fell from its bindings, the dark curls blowing back away from her face. She glanced over her shoulder, not seeing him.
It was the soap maker.
The woman he’d been thinking about. And she was in a desperate hurry to get somewhere.
The End
About the Author
Most days USA Today Bestseller Hildie McQueen can be found in her overly tight leggings and green hoodie, holding a cup of British black tea while stalking her hunky lawn guy. Author of Medieval Highlander and American Historical romance, she writes something every reader can enjoy.
Hildie’s favorite past-times are reader conventions, traveling, shopping and reading.
She resides in beautiful small town Georgia with her super-hero husband Kurt and three little doggies.
Visit her website at www.hildiemcqueen.com
Facebook: HildieMcQueen
Twitter: @HildieMcQueen
Instagram: hildiemcqueenwriter
A Hardened Warrior Page 21
