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Noble stopped him, stepping directly in his path, Haig almost colliding with him.

The lass hurried to Leora, and she took the milk from her and ordered the trembling lass to sit.

“I will not be denied what is mine,” Haig protested.

Noble realized then that this was the mess Lord Slayer intended for him to see to if he was to claim his title of Chieftain of Clan Skirling.

“There is an easy solution,” Noble said, and all eyes turned on him questioningly. “We go outside and draw our weapons. The victor will be the new Chieftain of Clan Skirling.”

“I will not fight a Gallowglass warrior,” Cecil wisely said and shook his head at Haig. “And you would be wise to do the same.”

“I do not fear the Gallowglass,” Haig boasted.

“Then you are more of a fool than I thought you were.” Cecil bobbed his head at Noble. “I wish you well, Chieftain Noble.”

“You surrender too easily,” Haig said with disdain. “You are not fit to lead any clan.”

“I do not surrender. I bow to a warrior I would rather call friend than enemy,” Cecil snapped back. “I bid you much good fortune, Chieftain Noble.”

“That is honorable of you, and you have my friendship, Cecil, if you should ever need it,” Noble offered. “Lass,” he called out to the servant. “See that Cecil is provided with food for his journey.”

“Aye, sir,” the lass said, standing reluctantly.

“Is something wrong, lass?” Nobel asked.

“Nay, nay, sir, I will fetch the food,” the servant said.

“What is your name, lass?” Noble asked.

“Calla,” the lass said, her fingers twisting nervously at her apron.

“I expect the truth from my servants, Calla,” Noble cautioned.

“Forgive me, sir, but I fear there will be little food left for you and your wife and no food to feed an already starving clan if food is provided for the gentleman,” Calla said, her thin frame proof of her words.

“Worry not, Calla. My warriors hunt now and will provide a feast tonight for the clan,” Noble said.

Calla stared at him, shocked, before saying, “Truly?”

“Aye,” Noble confirmed. “The clan will eat well today.”

“Bless you, sir, bless you,” Calla said close to tears.

“Don’t be so quick to feel joy, for when I win the title of Chieftain of Clan Skirling, you will suffer for your lack of respect,” Haig warned.

Leora’s hardy laughter had everyone looking at her. “You are a fool. Who do you think Lord Slayer would entrust a clan to… a simple warrior? You have no idea who you fight. I would offer prayers for my husband’s safety, but he has no need of them, but you do.” She continued to laugh, though softly, as she returned to feeding the pup, who licked the milk off her finger, too weak to lap it from the bowl.

Noble’s men snickered, trying to contain their laughter. Finley had to turn away, looking ready to erupt with laughter.

“Watch your tongue with me, woman, or I—”

Noble moved fast, his hand clamping so tightly around Haig’s throat that he struggled to breathe. “Threaten my wife again and I will cut your tongue out of your mouth.”

Haig stumbled and coughed to regain his breath when Noble released him with a hard shove.

Noble pointed at the man. “Outside so we can be done with this. There is much work to get started in the clan, feeding the people the first of it.”

A smile broke out on Calla’s pretty face, and she raced from the room.