The Highlander's Outlaw Bride by MacRae Cathy

Author:MacRae, Cathy [MacRae, Cathy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Short Dog Press
Published: 2015-03-06T08:00:00+00:00

Chapter 19

Conn stared across the loch to the cairns raised on the tiny island where MacLaurey lairds had been laid to rest for generations. What had happened to his da? How had he died? There was nothing but rumors to guide him, and the only one who knew for sure was now nearly three months in the ground. All Seumas had been able to confirm was that the laird had been thrown from his horse during a hunt, and though he lingered for some days, he never regained consciousness.

Utter helplessness swept over him. The things he’d taken for granted in his life had not turned out as he assumed they would. He had never intended to become laird at the young age of a score and three years. Though he had been raised to assume the leadership of the clan, he felt his da’s loss keenly.

“The men have done as you instructed. No one has seen Malcolm or his cronies since sometime last night. Mayhap he fled at the report that his men did not kill you last night.” Bray stepped through the archway to Conn’s side. “It has been a long day, mon ami, and dinner is prepared.”

Conn roused as Bray’s words reached him. With great effort he turned from the sight of his father’s grave and trudged up the path through the small garden behind the castle walls.

The hall glowed with a mellow light, the result of many flickering candles reflected off the freshly cleaned white walls. The stained glass sparkled, shooting colored patterns on the scrubbed stone floor. Tables had been set up and food prepared, and he was startled to see the men seated quietly, leaving the laird’s chair empty.

Conn strode to the chair that had couched the rumps of four generations of MacLaurey lairds, himself now the fifth. He touched the carved wood, the grain worn smooth with years of service. His ancestors had sat in this chair, presiding over their many duties as laird, and their blood ran hot in his veins. He surveyed the faces crowding the room.

“These have been difficult days for me, and for ye as well. I realize I havenae been home in over a year, and much has changed in that time. Understand when I tell ye, word was late reaching me of my father’s death. I would have never forsworn my duty had I known.”

He paused, breathing through the pain in his chest. “I will, with all my power, honor the lairds who have come before me. I will, with yer aid, keep Morven safe and help it flourish. This is my pledge to ye.”

A steady beat began, growing louder as the men stomped their feet and thumped the tables with their fists in support of their new laird. Conn knew most did not understand the distance from the glen to France or the difficulties of travel abroad, and likely still harbored resentment over his absence. But they appeared prepared to trust him, and their approval of his words showed.

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