The Grant chieftain’s daughter would be the wiser choice for Rory’s bride. Though it was unjust, he was blamed for the strain in the alliance between their two clans. The proposed marriage was meant to settle the hard feelings between their families and salvage an alliance both clans needed.
But Rory would just have to think of another way to appease the Grants.
Because the only lass he wanted for his bride was Sybil.
CHAPTER 13
“The Grant and Munro clans are threats to us.” Hector slammed his fist on the table. “We must strike them before they strike us.”
He moved his gaze from man to man of the select group of MacKenzie warriors gathered around the high table in the great hall at Eilean Donan Castle. These were the most respected men of the clan and served as a council to Hector and the chieftain. Hector neither wanted nor needed their advice, but he had spent years cultivating their support.
Some of the men nodded their agreement, others were uneasy but silent. None openly challenged him until he came to Malcolm, an old warrior who had served as captain of the guard when Hector’s father was chieftain and as a close advisor to Hector’s brother.
“With respect, this is no time to break with good allies like the Grants and Munros,” Malcolm said. “We should save our strength to fight the MacDonalds. They are a powerful enemy and our greatest foe.”
Hector nodded, pretending to acknowledge the advice as worthy of consideration, while his fingers itched to plunge his dirk into Malcolm’s heart. Rory had been whispering this same advice in Brian’s ear for months. Hector needed a war to galvanize the clan behind him. The graver the danger and the more enemies they faced, the more his clansmen would realize they needed him, an experienced warrior and victor of many battles, to lead them.
“We ought to persuade the Grants and the Munros to join forces with us against the MacDonalds,” Malcolm droned on, “not make them blood enemies by attacking them unprovoked.”
Hector could not lay hands on the revered old warrior here in front of the others, but the old man had challenged him for the last time.
“You’ve served the clan well for many years,” Hector said. “If ye no longer feel ye have the heart to fight, we’ve plenty of young MacKenzie warriors who—”
“I don’t lack courage,” Malcolm said.
“Good.” Hector walked around the table to clamp a hand on Malcolm’s shoulder. “Then I’ll grant ye the honor of leading our next battle.”
Hector would make sure Malcolm did not survive it. That was one obstacle removed from his path.
Unfortunately, Malcolm’s objection caused rumbling among the other warriors at the table. Hector could always find a way to provoke the Munros into attacking first, and then these men around the table would be shouting for vengeance.
“Before we attack these neighboring clans who have been our allies in the past,” one of the others said, “our chieftain should give the command.”
“Aye, we should wait for the MacKenzie,” another said. “Where is he?”
That was a question to which Hector hoped to have an answer soon. If all went as planned, there would be no shackles on his authority.
“He’s gone hunting,” he lied. “And of course we must wait for the MacKenzie.”
He stifled a smile. They could be waiting a long, long while.
After they left, he met with a different sort of advisor. He opened the secret stairway to an old woman who had knowledge of the dark arts and a sweet granddaughter she did not want given to Big Duncan.
It never hurt for a man to hedge his bets.
***
Rory grinned as he watched the sister-in-law to the queen cooking oats for their breakfast over an open fire. She spooned the steaming porridge into two cups and handed him one.
“Not too bad,” she said, frowning after she took a taste. “Better than yesterday, wouldn’t ye agree?”
“’Tis perfect,” he lied.
“As good as any Highland lass could make it?” she asked, tilting her head in a fetching way that he imagined she did when she flirted at court.
“Aye,” he lied again, and was rewarded with a smile that shone in her eyes.
Last night when he returned from hunting with a pheasant for their supper, Sybil had a good fire going and their camp set up. She had adapted to the rough travel better than he would have imagined. From the start, she had shown herself to be determined and clever, but her desire to undertake these mundane tasks that he would have gladly done for her surprised him.