Page 53 of Bride Takes a Laird

As much as she would miss Magnus, she doubted he would care a whit that she left. He was quite angry with her for tending to the manuscripts. And his repeated and frequent absences proved that Magnus didn’t need a wife. He’d make do without her. Also, with the despair filling her heart at her father’s death, there was little room there for her absent husband or her care for him. She wouldn’t allow herself to think about Magnus or how he would react to her leaving. He’d all but broken her heart and nothing he did would change that.

And it was true that Kendra had spent most of her life alone and hadn’t needed anyone. Magnus had given her a small glimpse of what having a husband would be like, and yet, in spite of her independence, she’d found she wanted more—love, devotion, and togetherness. She doubted though that he’d be willing to give himself to her the way she’d hoped. She would go on as she had before—without him—and especially, without his love or affection.

Such thoughts deepened her sorrow and she wept uncontrollably.

Chapter Twenty

Ashrill soundawakened Magnus. He groaned and rolled to his side before he opened his eyes. His vision blurred slightly and he blinked to try to see where he was. His head throbbed and caused him to scrunch his eyes against the light of day. Nearby, a group of men stood beside a cluster of horses. They didn’t approach and he couldn’t discern what they spoke of. He pressed his hand at his temple and felt the lump there.

The last thing he recalled was that he and his brethren were attacked. They were ambushed by hurled rocks that had injured Hayden and Oswald. He remembered them lying unmoving on the ground. Then he too was struck. Who had attacked them? Was it the men who stood nearby? Was it a rival clan, likely the Chattans?

Magnus moaned softly, slowly raised his body to a sitting position, and heard someone behind him clear his throat. He looked around him until he spotted a man standing but a short distance away.

“Finally, ye came to your senses. I thought we might have to roust ye for ye slept overlong. Here,” the man said and handed him a cup.

Magnus wasn’t sure if he should accept the drink, at least until he was aware of who his enemy was. He shook his head at the man, refusing his offer. “Who be ye?”

“Ye do not recognize me? Aye, for it has been a long time since we met face to face. I’m Geoff of Clan Chattan.”

He shook his head. “I don’t recall meeting ye at all. Did ye attack me and my men? Where are they, my men? And where in damnation is my sword?” Magnus realized his sword was missing from its scabbard when he reached for it but it wasn’t in its place. If he had to protect himself, he wanted to ensure his sword was at the ready. Alas, he would have to make do with the dagger he would retrieve from his boot. Before he made a move to withdraw it, the man spoke again.

Geoff sat across from him and raised a brow. “Think ye we’re daft enough to let ye hold onto your sword? We’ll return it, but after we speak. As to your men, we left them in the woods. ’Tis a shame that ye do not recall our meeting. Ye spoke to my brother Rodrick about our land dispute and refused to allow us to use your fields. Are ye still intent to keep us from using the land?”

He remembered meeting Rodrick Chattan but not his brother. Rodrick was of an easier temperament and was not as easy to rile. His brother seemed the opposite for the man wore a glare on his face and his words were spoken with callousness. “Why should I allow ye to use my land? It is mine and belongs to Clan Cameron. Use your own damned land.”

“Och, we hoped to make a treaty with ye and for your life, we shall be given rights to let our sheep wander the fields betwixt us.” Geoff tried again to hand him the cup. “Ye should take the drink. Know that there is no foulness offered here, only good strong ale and good intentions. Surely ye are thirsty. Take it.”

Magnus did so and accepted the cup from him. He took a small drink, only enough to wet his throat and to discern if there was something in it besides ale. He set the cup beside him. “If ye want to kill me then do so but I won’t be contemplating a treaty betwixt our clans.”

“Why the hell not? See here, Magnus, we mean no threat and willst not have this discord between us. My brother was too soft in dealing with ye, aye, but I am not he. I will destroy your entire clan ifye don’t make a treaty with me. Either ye accept my terms or it will be the end of the Cameron Clan.”

“Ye speak of war.” Magnus tried to think clearly but the bump on the side of his head rendered him incapable of putting together his thoughts. If he didn’t agree with the man, he’d be killed. To keep himself from being murdered, he nodded. “Aye then, I suppose ye give me no choice but to accept your treaty. Ye want me to allow your sheep to graze upon my land and in return ye shall let me live. Is that correct?”

Geoff nodded. “’Tis correct. Aye, for we cannot help it if our sheep wander onto your land. We will have no more rift between us though. I want your word that ye won’t seek retribution against us for our wee attack in yonder woods either. My men did not mean to harm your brethren but only meant to gain their attention. Och, ’tis a shame they were harmed and I deem ye will seek vengeance. If we are to move forward in peace, then ye must agree that ye will not take up arms against us.”

Magnus shook himself. He tried to follow along with the man’s words. His men were harmed? Were they dead? Geoff sought to save his hide by making him agree not to seek retaliation but Magnus was unwilling to do so until he found out if his comrades were harmed. “What of my men? Do they live?”

Geoff shrugged. “They were alive when last we saw them. Och, who knows what befell them after we left? I will have your vow, Laird Cameron, Magnus… Then we shall part ways. I will leave ye be as long as ye leave me be and allow us to use your field for our sheep.”

“Why not use your own land? I am sure your sheep will be just as pleased to graze upon Chattan land even though it probably lacks.” He tried to comprehend the need because it mattered not where the damned Chattan sheep grazed.

“Our hills are rocky and barely any grasses grew during the warm season. We have little sustenance for them and as ye know our sheepare our lifeline. Magnus, I seek peace and a truce. Either ye shall agree or we will go forth with wrath. A war between us would be most welcomed for we relish the idea of fighting against the renowned Cameron warriors.”

Magnus disliked the man intensely. He scrutinized him, from his dark, curly hair to the fullness of his beard. He was strong in his shoulders, burly in his body, and a bulky man. It wasn’t the look of him though that sat afoul with Magnus, but the sheer audacity of him to suggest that he either accept his truce or suffer the consequences.

“I cannot accept your offer until I speak with my clan. Give me a sennight and I shall send a message giving our acceptance or not.”

“Very well,ochye have a sennight. That will give me time to call up my allies. Aye, for if ye decide against our truce, ye might want to ready your soldiers and call forth your allies. We intend to fight for the use of the land.” Geoff said nothing more, but stood and marched off toward his awaiting men.

One of his men neared and tossed his sword a bit of distance from him. The man then turned away and ambled toward his horse. Geoff and his followers mounted their horses and left him.

The sound of the horses dissipated within a moment. Silence abounded except for the light chirp of a bird. Magnus picked up the cup of ale left beside him and downed the remainder of the drink. He groaned and stood. His steps were somewhat sluggish as he made his way toward his own horse, tethered to a nearby bush. He took the reins in hand and walked a little way to further clear his head. The thumping subsided slightly and his eyes no longer hurt.

On his walk, he recognized the landscape. Ahead of him was an old crag where they’d often taken rest on the way home. The old stone was almost completely covered with moss and a few thin branches that must’ve fallen atop it from the adjacent tree. He knew exactly where he was now and the land that the Chattans so coveted was close by.

His horse snickered as if alerting him that they should make haste. Magnus mounted his warhorse and rode rapidly toward the area where he’d last seen his men. When he reached the spot where he believed they’d been attacked, he noticed no one near. He peered at the scatter of rocks that sat on the ground, most were about the size of one’s palm, easily aimed at a target. At least the rocks were somewhat smooth and hadn’t cut him. He noted no blood on the rocks except for one.

Hayden and Oswald were no longer there. He sighed wearily and hoped they’d made their way home. Onward, he rode, until he crossed the wooden bridge and reached the gates ofEilean nan Craobh. By the gate, he dismounted and waited for his guards to open it. There was no sign of Craig, the leader of the gate watch. He had hoped to gain news from him. Magnus was about to ask the others if Hayden and Oswald had returned but his grandda approached.