Page 102 of Claimed by a Highlander
“Kenneth has reached his eighth birthday, the age at which tradition dictates a child should leave his mother’s clan for his father’s.” Grant clamped a hand on his grandson’s shoulder. “Your son should be raised as a MacKenzie.”
Rory could strangle Grant for forcing the issue now. His timing had nothing to do with tradition and everything to do with Rory’s unexpected rise to clan chieftain.
“Ye shouldn’t have brought the lad,” Rory hissed in a low voice.
Tension flowed among Rory, Grant and Sybil like a surging river on the verge of breaching its banks and drowning them all.
“Nonsense,mo chroí,”Sybil said with a smile on her lips and daggers in her eyes. “I would not have wanted to wait a moment longer to meet your son.”
“He’s no—” Rory started to say but bit his tongue. This was not the time or place, in front of the boy.
Sybil looked down at the lad then, and showed once again just how remarkable she was. Genuine warmth filled her eyes, and she took the lad’s hand and leaned down to speak to him.
“I can see you’re a wee bit worried by all of this, but ye needn’t be,” she said in a soft voice Rory had to strain to hear. “Ye see, I’ve left the comfort of my home and family to come live with these MacKenzies too, so I think you and I are going to become the very best of friends.”
While he and Grant postured, Sybil showed her generosity of spirit by recognizing the lad’s fears. She had as much pride as any of them and more reason to feel affronted. And yet, out of kindness, she welcomed the child into her home and family as if his arrival was a gift she had long hoped for. Rory loved her even more for it, and he knew he did not deserve her.
“What do ye say, Kenneth,” she said, “shall we be friends and mind each other’s backs among these wild MacKenzies?”
After studying her face, the lad gave her a solemn nod.
“I’d wager that a growing young man like you must be hungry after your long ride.”
The lad nodded, more vigorously this time. Sybil straightened and bestowed her smile on the rest of the Grants—but definitely not on Rory.
“Again, welcome to our home,” she told them. “We’d be honored if you would join us for dinner.”
The lad held tightly to Sybil’s hand as she led them up the steps of the keep. Just before the guard opened the door and she swept inside, she gave Rory a look over her shoulder that could have frozen a loch.
***
It was a wonder Rory did not get frostbite sitting between Grant and Sybil. And Grant was the warmer of the two. While Sybil engaged in a lively conversation with everyone else at the table, each attempt he made to converse with her was met with ahmmphor nothing at all. She refused to even look at him.
He wished he could take her upstairs at once and explain everything to her, but relations with the Grants were already at the breaking point without insulting them by leaving the table.
Sybil was all charm and smiles to their uninvited guests, especially Grant’s grandson, whom she had seated on her other side. Placing the lad in an honored position above his uncles at the high table, as if he were Rory’s heir, wasnothelpful. Rory could not move the lad to a more appropriate seat without creating still more trouble with the Grant chieftain, and she damn well knew it.
“You’ve never been to Castle Leod before?” he heard her ask.
The lad, who had stuffed a large piece of roasted pork in his mouth, shook his head.
“But surely ye must have spent some time with your father?” she said. “Was it at one of the other MacKenzie castles or perhaps at your grandfather’s?”
“Nay,” the lad said around the food in his cheek. When he noticed Rory was watching him, his cheeks turned pink and his gaze dropped to the table.
Though Sybil’s face was turned away from him, Rory could feel her indignation. She was judging him, though she knew nothing of the circumstances.
He had his reasons for not seeing the lad. Good reasons. But he should have told her long before now.
The moment the meal was finished, Sybil stood to leave.
“It was a delight to meet you all, especially Kenneth.” Sybil squeezed the lad’s shoulder, and the two beamed at each other. “Now I’m sure you men have matters ye wish to discuss.”
“We most certainly do,” Grant said, his eyes burning holes into Rory.
Without sparing Rory a glance, she left the table. He watched her straight back as she walked toward the stairs.
The outside doors to the hall banged open, jolting his attention as a young woman burst inside. Her hair was loose and tangled, and her eyes red from weeping.
