Page 55 of The Wolf Laird's Obsession
“Standing,” he called back.
It was the closest thing to good news anyone would hear for a while.
Once in the courtyard, Rowan dismounted his horse. He knew better than to expect Sorcha to greet him upon his arrival, buthis eyes searched for her anyway, part of him hoping to see her wandering the keep with Elspeth.
Ewan approached him quickly, looking tense.
“Council chamber,” he said.
He had gone back earlier to update the council on their progress.
“They’ve been waitin’,” he added.
Rowan clenched his jaw. “Then let’s hear what trouble has found us now.”
He went straight to the council chamber, his muddy boots leaving dark marks on the stone.
Three days in mud and smoke, and they couldnae give me time to wash the ash from me hands.
The guards posted outside the council chamber opened the door the moment they saw him round the corner.
The councilmen rose, giving a nod of greeting as he took his seat. To his right was Hamish, a man as solid as an oak tree, opinionated and blunt.Next to him was Duncan, gaunt with sharp eyes. He was the sort of man one would expect to believe little and recollect all.
Torcall was broad in the chest, forever scowling as if the world had been letting him down for the past sixty years.
Angus, Hamish’s brother, was the most reserved of them all. A man who seldom spoke, but when he did, his words held weight.
And at the far end was the youngest member of the council, Iain. He even brought his sword to the council meetings, as if war hung between every sentence.
“Well…?” Rowan prompted.
If they had dragged him from the yard before he had even washed the ash from his hands, they could get straight to the point.
Torcall shifted heavily in his seat, his eyebrows drawing together beneath his thinning hair. “Word has reached Laird Kerr. The Mad Laird is furious.”
Rowan scoffed. “Since when has Kerr needed a reason to be furious?”
A few uneasy chuckles rippled through the table, but no one looked particularly comforted.
Duncan leaned forward, his eyes narrowing sharply. “He claims Sinclair was supposed to secure an alliance with him.”
“Aye.” Rowan nodded gravely. “And he claims the sun belongs to him as well when the mood strikes him.”
“This isnae a jest, Rowan,” Hamish said quietly. “Kerr has begun gatherin’ men.”
Iain spoke up, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. “Scouts say he has doubled the watch along his eastern passes.”
“Preparin’ for winter,” Rowan emphasized, hands fisted in his lap. He was growing tired of these old men.
Angus, who had remained silent until now, finally spoke. “Or preparin’ for war.”
Duncan nodded slowly. “Kerr has been restless for years. A marriage alliance slippin’ from his hands will bruise his pride.”
“His pride is nay concern of mine,” Rowan grunted.
“That may be true,” Hamish said. “But it becomes our concern if he marches.”
Rowan’s mouth hardened. “Let him.”
