Page 30 of Her Highlander's Darkest Temptation
The young man’s words were not encouraging. “First thing we noticed was that it was too quiet in the woods, so me partner, Mardin, directed us back intae the open moors. We were scarce out o’ the trees when they charged us, and Mardin sent us running for a hillock, said it was more defensible. I thought they’d surround us, but they didnae, just kept attackin’. I managed tae sound the call fer aid, an’ me an’ Mardin held out until the other patrols, an’ men o’ the nearby village could reach us.”
The boy’s throat worked as he swallowed. “Mardin… he was defendin’ me while I sounded the call. ‘Twas how he took that wound. And still, he wouldnae stand back, nor stop fightin’.”
“’Tis how a clansman should fight.” Elder McKennah spoke first. “Did ye learn the purpose o’ the attack?”
“I didnae… but it was… I dinnae ken. It didnae seem as if they wanted tae kill us, but they werenae after letting us go either.”
There were a few more questions, but it was soon obvious the lad knew little more. He was too young and inexperienced yet to detect all the nuances of battle, even a small skirmish such as this appeared to be. Donall dismissed the lad to get some much-needed rest, and the Council fell into discussion, interrupted only by Lydia’s periodic arrival with food for all of them.
It was finally MacEvoney who said what they were all thinking. “Those Cameron dogs…this wasnae a serious attack. They were testin’ how well we watch our borders, an’ how skilled our warriors fight.”
“Aye. They’re looking fer somethin’, an’ they’re o’ a mind that they’ll find it on Ranald lands. They’re gearin’ up tae test our defenses an’ our skills, so they can try an’ take what it is they’re after, rather than negotiating like honorable men.”
If he hadn’t been looking up to demand a refill of his mead, Donall knew he wouldn’t have seen it - the way Lydia flinched at Elder MacEvoney’s words, her shoulders tightening and a momentary look of concern flashing across her face. The expression was gone an instant later, hidden behind her shy, meek, mask, but the tension in her shoulders remained.
In that instant, Donall knew.
Whatever it is Clan Cameron is after, she kens somethin’ about it. She either has what they want, or she kens where tae find it.
“We can handle a few Cameron bastards.” McKennah’s forceful statement brought Donall’s attention back to the conversation.
McEvoney scowled at his fellow Elder. “’Tis nae a few Cameron bastards we have tae be concerned with. ‘Tis the entire host o’ Cameron warriors, which are twice our own numbers. Or worse, Clan Cameronan’their allies. Me villages are near the border, an’ I’ve heard the whispers an’ seen the signs that Cameron is reachin’ out tae his allies. Worse, I’ve heard a rumor he’s a new ally from among the English lairds, some man he made a treaty o’ sorts with.”
Donall frowned.Thatwas a worrying rumor, especially if it was true. Cameron had allies enough, and if he was reaching out to the English, then they might be attacked on multiple fronts. There was no telling how much an English laird could add to Cameron’s coffers, armory, or warriors, if they chose to stand together.
In such dire circumstances, the prudent thing to do would be to call Lydia to him and question her more closely. He ought to demand to know what she knew about Clan Cameron’s vendetta, as well as whatever it was they were hunting.
Instead, Donall held his tongue. He was curious, and he was aware of the straits his clan was facing, but the way Clan Cameron was conducting their search - honorable men would send messages, send a request for aid, or at least a declaration of their demands and what they were seeking. Instead, Laird Cameron chose to send warriors and raiders sneaking across his borders. He conducted raids and unwarranted attacks on Ranald’s warriors and scouts, when he ought to have sent a letter to Donall himself.
Such dishonorable tactics suggested that, at the very least, Rory Cameron had no respect for Clan Ranald, or Donall as the clan’s laird. For that disrespect, if nothing else, Donall was willing to let the man stew.
The debate among the elders was beginning to become repetitive, as they hashed over what they knew - not nearly enough to decide on a course of action - and what they suspected. Donall heaved himself to his feet, and the assembled advisors and Elders fell silent.
“’Tis clear enough Laird Cameron wants something o’ us. Fer now, I will send him a message, tellin’ him o’ the two attacks we’ve faced from his men and their secretive nature. I will confront him with the fact that we ken these are his warriors, nay matter their subterfuge, and demand tae ken what he means by his actions, an’ what it is he seeks.”
Alexander frowned. “Ye think he will tell ye?”
Donall snorted. “I dinnae ken. But at least sendin’ such a message will show we acted as honorably as we might, if the situation grows worse. We all ken the Highland Gatherin’ may demand an accounting if there’s pitched battle - I’ll nae have accusations that we didnae act as we should.”
I’ll nae allow Rory Cameron tae bring a grievance against me tae the king without havin’ evidence that ‘tis he who is behavin’ in the wrong. Without proof tae the contrary, ‘twould be far too likely the king would tak’ his version o’ events over me own, an’ put me in irons again.
I’ll nae let Cameron use me foolishness o’ before tae attack me clan without consequence, but I have tae dae this correctly, or I’ll leave me clan in jeopardy again - an’ in me braither-by-marriage’s care, at the best.
And… somehow this all comes back tae Lydia. I must find a way tae reveal whatever secret she’s keeping, an’ why. I’ve tried tae give her space tae trust, even if ‘tis Maisie or Evelyn, rather than meself, but if this attack proves one thing, it proves this… I am fast runnin’ out o’ time fer courtesy and caution in regards tae me mystery maid.
Laird Cameron was closing in. The knowledge, gleaned from the snippets she had overheard while attending Laird Ranald at the Council meeting, and the knowledge made her stomach twist until eating made her feel sick.
“Och. Ye’re too pale.” Maisie put an arm around her shoulders for a quick embrace. “Evelyn’s asked fer our help taeday, an’ Laird Ranald is agreeable. ‘Twill give ye some time with simpler duties, an’ Evelyn can give ye a tonic fer whatever ails ye.”
Two days before, Lydia would have leaped at the chance to work with the healer, but after her misspoken words the day before, she was no longer certain that was wise. She’d had a chance to review her memories of buying turmeric, and she was fairly certain now that it wasn’t the sort of remedy most serving girls might use for wounds.
Laird Ranald might not know enough to realize what sort of error she’d made, but Evelyn was far more knowledgeable. If Laird Ranald had conferred with her, she might know Lydia was more than she seemed.
On the other hand, a tonic for her stomach did sound like a welcome relief, and she had no proof that Laird Ranald had ever mentioned her blunder to the healer.
Together, the two of them made their way down to the healer’s cottage. Maisie knocked, then entered the cottage with a cheerful greeting. “Och, Evelyn! I’ve come tae help ye with the salve an’ tonic preparations as ye asked me, an’ I’ve brought Lydia too. She also needs a tonic fer somethin’ tha’ ails her.”
“Me stomach. It is unsettled.” Lydia supplied when the healer turned to her.
