Ian urged his horse into motion. He should probably tell the boy to not call an elder an old baw bag but decided to let it pass. At least the boy hadn’t said bastard again. It sounded as though Gretna truly did need help with the lads, although Evander spoke with the conviction of a man grown. They definitely needed more guidance than their Mam Hattie. God’s beard, what a mess. He felt the MacCoinnich marriage snare cinch a notch tighter.
Shaking away the stifling thought, he focused on the task at hand. His cousin Alexander was a fair and patient chieftain, but patience was easily spent—especially if today’s great hall happened to involve an excess of petty grievances. As they passed beneath the portcullis, he tossed back a bit of advice to Evander, “When ye get in front of the chief, be respectful. Quiet. No outbursts. Answer what ye are asked. Nothing else, aye?” He thought back to the scene in the street. “And dinna be calling Tamson names. Understand? It shows yer arse.”
“This isna our first time before the chief,” Evander bragged as though such a thing were a badge of honor. “Happens a lot ’cause of our sacred oath.”
The boy’s words gave Ian pause, while at the same time, triggering a deeper level of uneasiness. Upon reaching the bailey, he helped the lad down but stopped him from proceeding a step farther. “Sacred oath?”
“Ye’re no’ supposed to tell,” Rory warned as he and Finn joined them. “’Tis a secret oath, too, Evander. Ye know that!”
“A secret, sacred oath?” Magnus repeated as he herded the two younger boys to stand beside their brother.
“Swear us in,” Sutherland said with a conspiratorial wink. He squatted down in front of Finn. “We three be verra trustworthy.” He thumped his chest. “I swear it.”
“Dinna mock us,” Evander said with the surliness of a snarling dog. He shrugged out from under Ian’s grasp and pulled his little brother away from Sutherland. With an angry side-eyed glance at Ian, he made it clear that any modicum of trust between them had just been lost. “Just because we be lads, doesna mean we dinna ken what goes on and what shouldna be ignored.”
“Why, we’d never mock such brave lads,” Sutherland said in the placating tone often used with children.
Magnus groaned and rolled his eyes. “Shut your maw, Sutherland.”
Ian stepped between the boys and Sutherland before the man opened his mouth again and worsened the situation. “If I didna believe the three of ye had valid reasons for what ye did, I wouldha left ye back in the street to sort this out yerselves.” He held out a hand to Evander as though the boy were a man. “But I can best help if I know all the reasons for yer actions, aye? I havena been here for nigh on three years. I’ve a bit a catching up to do about the goings-on.”
All three of them looked like cornered strays ready to fight for their lives.
Hand still extended, Ian widened his stance. “What say ye, Evander? Tell me of this secret oath. I’ll do my best to keep it secret unless the chieftain needs to hear of it, aye? I willna lie to ye. If this oath is dangerous, both yer mother and the chief must be told. Ye have my word on it, and the sacred bond of my handshake.”
Evander shared a look with his brothers. Rory gave an almost imperceptible nod, and Finn trembled with a shrug. With a step forward, Evander cleared his throat. “We be the guardians of Ruadh. We tend to the wrongs that go ignored and help folk who go unheard.” He lifted his chin. “We know well enough what it’s like when no one listens, and people look through ye as though ye’re nay even standing in front of them.”
“Evander Shaw Neal!”
“Dinna tell her of the oath, aye? We do it for her sake, too.”
Desperation and something akin to a plea for understanding flickered in the boy’s eyes. A certainty filled Ian. The certainty that he’d not betray the lads’ trust if at all possible. He shot a stern look over at Magnus, then Sutherland. “Not a word—aye?”
Both men gave silent assent, then ducked back a step as Gretna Neal raced down the keep’s front steps and flew across the cobblestone courtyard faster than a storm overtaking the land.
“How did she find out so fast?” Ian asked under his breath.
“She always knows,” Evander answered with a heavy sigh.
“What in heaven’s name have the three of ye done this time?” Gretna came to a halt in front of her eldest son.
Before Evander could begin his defense, Ian stepped next to him and rested a hand on his shoulder. He had to give the boy credit. The child didn’t cower nor shake as he stood prepared to endure his mother’s wrath.
Ian smiled his most charming smile, made all the easier by the high coloring across Gretna’s lovely features. Magnus had spoken true. The lass was still a fiery beauty. Twice widowed, three children, and the passage of time hadn’t touched her. If anything, she’d blossomed even more with the full curviness of womanhood and held herself with strength and grace. Damn, she was bonnie. “’Tis good to see ye again, Gretna.”
Blue eyes clearer than any Highland sky cut over to him. “’Twould be a fair sight better under different circumstances.” Her focus immediately shifted back to her son. “Well?”
“We’re in the right this time, Mama,” Evander said with the barest lift of his chin. “I swear it.”
Her mouth tightened, then she shifted the interrogation to her youngest. “Finn?”
“’Member what we said,” Rory whispered entirely too loud.
Snatching hold of Rory’s chin, she bent until the tip of her nose nearly touched his. “Dinna threaten yer brother, or I’ll take a switch to yer backside, ye ken?”
“Gretna…” Words fled Ian as her angry glare shot back to him. A distant memory of her temper returned with sudden clarity. He cleared his throat. “I dinna ken about the other times the lads have been participants in great hall, but I believe them to be in the right this time. Somewhat,” he added as an afterthought. The boys had vandalized the man’s cart when they should’ve taken the matter to an adult—if they could’ve gotten an adult to listen.
“Somewhat?” she repeated as a clanging bell signaled the beginning of the chieftain’s hearing of his peoples’ grievances.
Never fight a battle ye’re no’ armed to win. Mercenary wisdom also applied to arguing with women. He’d learned that early on. He motioned to Magnus and Sutherland. “Find the smithy quick as ye can. Have him look over that cart and tell ye what he finds.” Movement near the gate behind them caught his eye. “And keep close watch of Duff Tamson, aye?” He pointed to the peddler angling his team back toward the bailey’s exit. “The bastard’s looking to make a run for it once we all get inside. He has no intention of joining us in the hall if he can keep from it.”
“Ye told me I couldna call him a bastard,” Evander said.
“Dinna sass yer elders, and dinna ye dare use that word again. Ye know better.” Gretna yanked her eldest from Ian’s side and gave him a shake. “Now, tell me why Master Cameron is bringing ye to the chieftain. What did ye do? Have ye been nettling the peddler again?”
“I brought him here to keep him from getting shot,” Ian interrupted while watching Magnus and Sutherland take their posts on either side of Tamson and escort the man into the keep. As soon as he heard Gretna’s gasp, he cringed. Perhaps, he could’ve worded that better.
“Shot?” She snatched the rest of her brood closer, herding them up the steps while alternately swatting each of their backsides hard enough to make them yelp and step livelier. “The death of me! The lot of ye shall be the death of me. D’ye hear? Are ye set on sending me to an early grave? Are ye?”
Ian’s heart went out to the lads, but now was neither the time nor the place to assert his opinion or assistance on the matter. He didn’t fear Gretna, but she’d instilled within him a healthy dose of respect long ago. The woman was as fierce as any warrior. He prayed she’d calm enough to reason with once she heard all the details of the day. The boys had meant well. Surely, she’d find comfort and pride in that and grant them a bit of forgiveness.
/> As soon as they’d pushed their way to the front of those gathered on the fringes of the long meeting hall, he lifted a hand to catch both the chieftain and his wife’s attention. Catriona would choose this day of all days to join Alexander in the settling of grievances. Their heads turned at the same time, and their gazes settled on him. A chill raced across him as their smiles flashed brighter.
Graham, Alexander’s brother and Clan MacCoinnich’s war chief, stood beside the laird’s chair, grinning like a fool, too. He winked at Ian. Was everyone privy to this plot to marry him off to Gretna?
“Ah, well. In for a penny, in for a pound,” he muttered under his breath as he strode into the area in front of the chieftain and motioned for the boys to join him. Jaw set, Gretna herded her sons forward, then took her place behind them. Evander to the right, Rory to the left, and poor trembling Finn in the middle, backed up into the folds of his mother’s skirts.
Ian moved to stand beside her, directly behind Evander. Even though he knew nothing about the raising of bairns, he wouldn’t let them fight this battle alone. They needed someone other than their mother on their side.
Magnus and Sutherland nudged Duff Tamson into the space, then stepped back and took a stance that left no question they stood guard to ensure no one exited without permission.
Ian resettled his stance and glanced around. The cavernous hall at the heart of the keep was packed. Folk clustered at least three-deep around the sides of the room and in the archways. Some even gathered above in the gallery, leaning over the banister to better view the proceedings.
Alexander lifted a hand and silence washed across the room. “’Tis good to see ye, cousin. How long has it been since ye graced these halls?”
Not long enough. Ian stifled the selfish thought and forced a polite smile. “Nigh on three years, I think. With Alasdair last time.”
With a thoughtful nod, Alexander agreed. “Aye. Three years.” His pleasant countenance faded, settling into a dark look Ian knew all too well from their days of fighting together as mercenaries. Alexander was about to launch a battle plan. He pointed at the boys. “’Tis my understanding ye happened upon an incident ye feel needs my attention.”
“Aye.” Ian settled a hand on Evander’s shoulder and squeezed, hoping both the boy and Gretna would understand what he was about to do. He’d been known to plot a battle plan or two himself. He turned and made a half bow to Duff Tamson. “Any accusations of prejudice due to my ties to yerself, I believe Master Tamson should speak first and present his side of what happened.”
Eyes narrowing, the chieftain looked at the peddler. “Master Tamson.”
The fidgeting man stole one last hopeful glance toward the exit, then scrubbed his palms on his coat. With a respectful bob of his head, he cleared his throat and shifted back and forth. “Chieftain.” He made a sideways jerk of his head toward the boys. “These scamps meddled with me wagon. Made it so my team broke loose, and half me wares ended up in the street.”
“Did ye recover yer horses?” Alexander asked.
“Aye, aye.” Tamson clasped his hands together. “Only went up the road a short way, they did. Weren’t no trouble at all to fetch them.”
“Any damages?” Alexander shifted in the ornately carved chieftain’s seat, then set his fingers to drumming atop the curved arm of the chair.
Tamson shook his head. “Nay, my chieftain.”
Alexander stared at Ian, seeming not to understand. “No damages and the horses recovered. Why are the lot of ye here? This isna the place to address the pranks of children.”
“Aye, that’s true,” Ian agreed, pleased he’d read Tamson correctly. He’d wagered the man would try to get through this with as little trouble as possible to keep from drawing too much attention to his business. “But shooting the lads seemed a rather severe punishment for their crime. D’ye no’ agree?”
“Shooting the lads?” Alexander sat straighter, even leaned forward as though relieved to finally hear something of interest.
Tamson eked out a nervous laugh and gave a sharp shake of his head. “I was nay really going to shoot them, my chieftain. Just wanted to put a little fear into the boys, ye ken?”
“Ye had your pistol aimed right at this boy when I stepped in front of it.” Ian made a dramatic sweeping look around the room. His brother Alasdair, Edinburgh’s finest solicitor, was not the only member of the family who knew how to play a crowd. A collective gasp from several of the women goaded him on. “Ye didna call them scamps then either. I believe yer exact words were, ‘Ye wee bastards. Shoot ye, I will!’.”
“I didna mean it,” Tamson sputtered, waving both hands as though wishing to wipe away Ian’s words. “I was angry. Spoke ill because of me temper. Surely, ye’ve done that at times? Said things ye didna mean?” He swiped his fingers across his forehead, then pulled a dingy square of linen out of his pocket and mopped his face with it. He shook his head again. “Meant no harm at all. I wouldna have really shot them.”
“Ye would, too, ye old baw bag!” Evander jeered. “Ye tried last month but misfired. Then ye threw it at us. That’s why ye’ve nay got but one pistol left!”
“Evander!” Gretna scolded in a shushing whisper.
“Hush, boy. Let me handle this.” Ian squeezed Evander’s shoulder again and gave Rory a stern look to keep his wee mouth shut as well. “These boys dinna deny what they did, Alexander. They told me their reasons.” He paused for effect. “And after witnessing Master Tamson’s behavior, I felt ye should hear their reasons, too.”
Alexander nodded. “So be it.”
The Dreamer coming soon – please subscribe to www.dragonbladepublishing.com for updates
About the Author
“No one has the power to shatter your dreams unless you give it to them.” That’s Maeve Greyson’s mantra. She and her husband of almost forty years traveled around the world while in the U.S. Air Force. Now, they’re settled in rural Kentucky where Maeve writes about her beloved Highlanders and the fearless women who tame them. When she’s not plotting her next romantic Scottish tale, she can be found herding cats, grandchildren, and her husband—not necessarily in that order.
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The Judge (Highland Heroes Book 3) Page 31
