Page 33 of The Lass Defended the Laird (Explosive Highlanders 2)

But this did not seem so healthy, did it. How many infants would it take to bridge it? Would they fulfil the feat? Each child was different; and he feared what he lost would never be restored. The consequence being he would chase after something elusive. He did not want to fall in this trap and generate unhappiness to his family. Freya had gone through enough as it was. And more would come until they stanched it.

Which brought him to the second issue. They must stand up to the clan squabble as soon as possible. But he would bide his time on this. The risks for Freya and Ewan were serious, and he preferred to meet the devil than put them in danger. Naturally, they could not stay here forever; though he would not complain if they did. With his son and wife around him, he felt more powerful than ever before; as if he sowed and harvested for the future. Their future. By his wife’s side again was…well…was satisfying. Overflowingly satisfying. In many ways, especially that one. Fulfilling, to tell the truth. He did not wish to give up on that. On her. On them. On the three of them. Ever. These had been the happiest days in years. He would not give it all up so easily. He would fight for her. For his family.

The horses found an open field for free rein, and they rode for one hour before returning. Close to the cottage, Drostan saw two horses tethered in front of it. With the worst in mind, he dismounted, tied the horses, and told Ewan to go to the shed. He barged through the entrance ready for a fight.

Merely to come upon Aileen and The McDougal sitting at the table calmly drinking whatever they had in their cups. He exhaled relieved.

Taran McDougal stood up and neared him. Both Lairds, as tall as warriors, shook hands. “McKendrick.” The other man greeted. They met last shortly after Samhain when Taran fisted a McKendrick kin in a fit of jealousy. Which obliged the McKendrick brothers to come and either fix the rift or fix their kin’s nose. They ended up reaching an agreement with their giant brother-in-law.

“McDougal.” Drostan answered in kind. As two powerful Lairds allied by marriage, they represented more than half of the Highland’s power.

“I brought a bottle of the best whisky in the Highlands.” Taran taunted.

“To the north of the Highlands, you mean.” Drostan devolved, implying his was the best to the south. This had become their opening jest since they met; and their clans stopped being enemies to become allies.

“Is there any good whisky to the south?” Taran provoked.

“Yes, the best in the Highlands, of course.” Aileen’s brother boasted.

Both men breathed a smug, but brotherly smirk, a signal of their growing friendship.

“I will fill you a cup, Drostan.” Taran offered.

Before sitting, he went to the shed to bring Ewan. “Here are your uncle and aunt.”

The boy greeted both and ran outside to play.

Drostan sat by Aileen who kissed him on the cheek. “Hello, bràthair, brother.”

“Piuthar, sister.”

“We have just arrived.” Aileen declared. “We came to check on Freya and Ewan.”

“I rode out as soon as I received your letter.” Her brother added, trying not to remember the horrible hangover he had that morning.

“I hoped you would.” Aileen followed clan traditions as much as her husband and always wore a spencer of her husband’s red, black and white plaid.

Drostan spoke, then. “Freya has explained me the situation.” The McKendrick couple exchanged a look.

“And?” Taran demanded, his ebony hair shining bluish in the fire in the hearth.

“A McPherson chieftain has been harassing her over the clan’s succession.” Drostan summarised and gave further details.

“This bluidy Ross must be the worst chieftain in all Scotland!” Taran exploded after Drostan’s revelations.

“Do you know him?” Drostan directed a surprised glare to his brother-in-law.

“Heard of.” He drank from his cup. “Hard not to when you have a half-McPherson son.” Which was precisely Drostan’s case. “He has been up to no good for a long time.”

Aileen’s pleated forehead showed her dislike. “This is outrageous!”

Since Fiona’s father had an heir in his brother, Freya’s father, there had been no succession issue concerning Sam, Taran’s son.

“I never expected Ross would go so far.” This was Taran’s way of apologising for his suspicions when he met Freya.

“What are you going to do?” His sister asked the other woman.

“I have no idea. But I cannot stay here forever.” Freya answered, her apprehension showing on her delicate features.

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