Page 2 of Bride Takes a Laird

Magnus walked apprehensively, almost leisurely, toward the keep. With his horse’s reins in hand, he continued on but dragged his feet. He was in no rush to get inside to impart the atrocious news.

Winston, his attendant, sprinted forth with his dog, Sigge, following. Sigge had been given to him as a gift from his younger brother Jake, who often brought home strays and animals akin. Winston and Sigge had become inseparable and both were loyal to him. Now, thetall lad shook his shoulder-length brown locks from his face and awaited his direction. The lad had a pleasing demeanor in his brown-eyed gaze and a dedication in his mannerisms and heart.

Magnus handed the reins of his horse to him. Winston was apt at his duty and always prepared. His pet was faithful but when Winston whistled, Sigge trotted off to follow the young soldier. Sigge’s disloyalty always showed whenever Winston was around.

At the steps, Magnus hesitated for a moment in an attempt to calm himself, but he drew a resigned breath and marched inside. With a quick stride, he hurried to the great hall, wanting to impart his news mainly to get it over with. Magnus was uneasy about telling them the news of his brother’s death because he knew they’d hold him accountable.

His father stood by the hearth and his mother sat in a wooden chair near him.

His mother glanced at him expectantly. She pressed the long length of her brown hair behind her shoulders and then folded her hands in front of her.

“Have ye found him? Please, tell me that he is safe.” His mother gained her feet and stood before him.

Magnus was dejected that with his next words, he would break his mother’s heart. “Da…Ma… We found him and I am sorry to tell ye—”

He hadn’t finished telling them the news when his mother shrieked and sobbed into her hands. “Oh, God, nay. This cannot be. We cannot have lost Ned. How could ye let this happen? Ye are the laird and should have protected your brother. This is your fault. I hold the blame on ye and ye will not gain my forgiveness.” She reached out and slapped him hard across his face.

Magnus tensed but said not a word. He didn’t even bother to soothe the sting of his mother’s ire. His cheek enflamed and reminded him of his role as the laird. He was accountable for the safety and well-being of every living soul within his clan. His mother had every rightto show her anger—anger that also wound its way through him for his ineptness.

His father set his arms around his mother’s shoulders to offer comfort. “He is with God, Wife, take comfort in that.”

Magnus gave them a few moments to mourn. Soon enough, he would need to answer their questions—questions for which he presently had no answers.

His father called to a servant and had his mother taken to their bedchamber. Magnus waited for her to leave and when she cleared the doorway, he slunk to the table, poured himself a cup of good strong ale, and downed it.

“Your ma does not know what she says. Mourning speaks for her.”

Magnus grunted. “Aye? But she is right because I am responsible for all the clan. It is my duty as the laird to ensure their protection. ’Tis my fault that Ned has died. I should have been aware of what he was…” He discontinued when his father shook his head and set his hand on his shoulder.

“Son, now ye let mourning speak for ye. Ye are not responsible for anyone’s actions but your own. Do not hold guilt in your heart. Ned was a man, accountable for his own life. What happened to him?” his father asked sadly.

“We do not know yet. Clarence is looking Ned over for injuries. It is not known whether he was killed or died from other causes. The healer suspects foulness though.”

His father patted his shoulder. “Forgive your ma for her anger. Ye know how she doted on Ned. She will grieve for some time.”

“As will we all.” Magnus poured his father a cup of ale and handed it to him, then poured more for himself. “Until we know for certain, we should keep our gate closed. I ordered the watchmen to do so.”

“Aye, that is wise. I cannot help but wonder why Ned left the holding. He never does…did. It seems strange that he would do so and then be found dead. Why would anyone want to kill him?” His father motioned him forward and they sat at the large trestle table in the center of the hall. With the cup held in his hand, his father lowered his head and shook it dejectedly.

A banked fire sent warmth to him as Magnus took the seat closest to the hearth. For a moment, he let the heat calm him. He was tired from the journey as well as from the sad affairs. Blearily, Magnus stared at the banners situated high on the walls in the chamber. “I thought the same thing, Da. It is odd, his behavior.” He sipped his ale and couldn’t form more words to offer his sympathy or accountability.

Magnus hadn’t thought his brother had the wherewithal to handle the important position when his father forced him to accept his brother as the steward but he and his father rowed about it. Ned had proved him wrong and they’d settled into a routine until recently. His brother had begun to shirk his responsibilities by not showing up for meetings, and making excuses for the delay of accounting of their coin and stores. His ineptness led Magnus to believe that he had made a mistake by allowing his brother access to their wealth.

His father groaned and rubbed his hands over his dark-haired, bearded face. Of his four sons, Magnus most resembled him in likeness with the same thick, dark brown hair color, and likewise with the greenish-brown shade of his eyes. His brothers more appeared like their mother, bearing lighter brown hair and blue eyes.

He and his father also shared similar traits of honor, dedication, and assertiveness.

Magnus supposed that was why he was chosen to become the laird and not one of his brothers. Not that they didn’t possess honor, but Magnus exuded confidence which his brothers did not. No one was more dedicated to the clan than he was. He’d aspired to be the laird and worked hard to be named as such by their clan’s council since he was knee-high. From the time he was five in age, he’d been raised and instructed by the elders and spent every waking moment being counseled by them.

“Ye are quiet, son. That tells me much is on your mind.”

“Aye, with spring soon to warm us, there is much to prepare. Now, I must deal with this treachery, if Ned was murdered. And there’s the Chattans to consider. Our rift with them escalates. I will have to confront them eventually because it has become troublesome keeping them off our land.” Magnus set his cup down and felt the parchment jab him inside his tunic. He pulled it out and set it next to his cup.

“What is that?”

“A missive from the king.” Magnus stared at the message and hoped its contents were unimportant. Whatever the king wanted had to wait. He was in no mood to deal with Alexander at present.

“What does it say?” His father reached for the missive, but Magnus clutched it before he could take it.