Page 46 of At the Highlander's Mercy
Symon seemed genuinely stunned by news of the attack when he returned to Keppoch Keep with Dougal and the others and Rob could discover no link between Symon and the stranger. Still, with his suspicions growing, Rob thought it best to set some watchers on Symon over the next few days. Choosing a few trustworthy men, he ordered them to keep watch over what his cousin did and with whom he met.
One decision he’d made was that he would not sign the official betrothal contract with Tyra. No matter what breach existed between his line and Symon’s, marriageto Tyra would not heal it. The thought of marrying once Lilidh left his life for good held little appeal to him.
Tensions ran high as the days passed with the pending arrival of the MacLeries and possibly war at their gates. Fights broke out among some of the farmers and warriors. Supplies went missing.
His only respite was with Lilidh.
After that night, she held nothing back from him. Never seemed uncomfortable with him, in bed or out. They would lose themselves in their growing passion as soon as one touched the other and hours passed spent wrapped around each other in his bed.
He began to take his evening meal with her in his chambers so they could discuss his plans to deal with her family...and his. She’d organised all the letters between her father and his and now there seemed a pattern to them. Though he remembered nothing that could have caused it, other than his own immaturity, clearly some deep, personal insult had happened between his father and Connor.
Had youthful stupidity really caused the rift between them? And how could he, or could he, solve this puzzle before Connor arrived?
* * *
Just before full dark, two nights later, the MacLeries arrived on his land and set up camp. He stopped counting the fires of the encampment when he reached two score. They approached no further and made no attempt to send word or greeting to him, but their appearance and numbers terrified those within the walls.
No one slept that night.
Lilidh had stood watching at the window for hours before he coaxed her to bed. Once in his arms, she had become like a wild thing, loving him with a desperation he’d never seen before.
* * *
When morning and the call came, she sat with haunted eyes and watched him leave the bedchamber.
The Beast of the Highlands had come calling at
Keppoch Keep—and God help them all.
* * *
Rob emptied the hall of everyone and only permitted a few of the elders, Dougal, Symon—now tanist and heir if Rob died or did not produce a son—Tyra and several guards to remain. He gave explicit instructions on what he expected to happen and what he expected of them. Dougal left to give the oath of truce so that the MacLeries could enter under the promise of hospitality.
With the rest seated behind him, Rob stood and waited for them to enter and the real battle to begin. The sounded of their approach echoed ahead of them into the hall. The nervous whispers behind him ceased as they entered and approached.
A huge man led the way in and Rob would have recognised Rurik Erengilsson anywhere. At a half more than six feet tall and still carrying the weight and muscles of his youth, the half-Norse, half-Scottish leader of all MacLerie warriors had lost nothing with age. Rob could feel every bruise the man had ever given him in training and knew him to be a deadly adversary. Rurik stopped and stepped aside as the negotiator walked forwards.
Duncan MacLerie knew how to bargain and would wrestle the best terms in any treaty for the MacLeries.
Years spent building a reputation as such, he’d also trained his stepdaughter and they had travelled extensively on the Earl of Douran’s business concerns. Rob had learned much from Duncan’s tutelage during his time being fostered in Lairig Dubh and facing this man on opposite sides of a dispute did not please him.
Rob waited for Duncan to stand aside so he could greet Connor and take his measure, but when the man did move, a woman stood behind him, arms crossed and fire in her eyes.
‘Jocelyn MacCallum, Lady MacLerie, the Countess of Douran,’ Duncan said loudly. The gasps behind him let him know that they understood her position. Rob glanced back and motioned to them to rise in respect for the woman in their midst.
‘Lady MacLerie,’ he said, bowing to her. ‘I did not expect you.’ Jocelyn walked right up to him and glared at him. Barely reaching his chest, she did not let her lack of height stop her from trying to intimidate him.
‘You may have remembered your manners,LairdMatheson, but clearly you have lost your wits,’ she said before delivering a stinging slap to his face.
Both Rurik and Duncan began to move in his direction, and hers, but he waved them off. Bowing once more to her, Rob understood the fear that lay deep in her eyes. She reacted as a mother whose bairn was in danger. He could and would excuse it, once. When she opened her mouth to speak, he decided he needed totake control over this and find out when Connor would arrive.
‘Lady MacLerie, you are overwrought from your journey and your worries about your daughter. I would remind you she is still in my custody.’
‘If you have harmed her—’ she began. Duncan furiously whispered her name and Rurik sighed and rolled his eyes, but she ignored them. ‘There is nothing and no one that will stop me from finding you, Rob Matheson, and making you regret what you’ve done.’
‘Laird Matheson,’ Duncan said in a calm voice. It felt very strange indeed to be called such by him. ‘Is it possible to allow Lady MacLerie to see to Lady
MacGregor?’
