Page 9 of Heart of the Highlands: The Rose (Protectors of the Crown #6)
Aiden walked the halls of Tulloch Castle to meet with the Highland Council. As he entered the room, he spotted Leland, his brother Ian, and several other clan lairds. Aiden had remembered meeting Ian once last May after signing the Treaty of Norham. He had heard rumors about the secret society of men who served the crown. They called them the Protectors. They were Scotland’s own sheriffs, acting according to the law. Leland’s presence and his brother, being certain the other Protectors were also in attendance, could have only meant one thing. There was more to this uncharacterized event than what was perceived, but perhaps an informal way to bring together the Highland Council of Lairds. As a new clan leader, it was an opportunity to show his strength and resilience, earning him the respect of both allies and rivals, especially with tension rising between the factions.
Aiden took his seat in the crowded room.
“Ye understand why I’ve called this council together,” Ian said, his voice low but steady. “We can no longer afford to ignore the tension that's building between the clans. There’s talk of alliances and talk of betrayal, but no agreements have been made. If we are to ensure the future of our people, we need to be strategic.”
A few of the men nodded gravely. One of them, Fergus of Mackenzie, leaned forward, his brow furrowed. “Aye, Ian, we’re all aware of the unrest, but an alliance won't come easy. There are those who see strength in independence and no’ unity.”
“I’m aware, but we can no longer stand divided. We’re stronger together, and the time has come for us to make that known.” He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. “We’ve heard the whispers of threats from beyond the borders. We need to make alliances official.”
The second leader, Ruaridh of the Mcleods, crossed his arms, a scowl tugging at the corners of his mouth. “And if those who refuse to bend will decide to turn their swords on us instead of our enemies, what then?”
Ian met his gaze, unwavering. “Then we fight. But we fight with allies by our side.” The room was silent, the crackling fire the only sound. “I have presented our terms,” he continued.
“Fergus is right. No’ all clansmen have the queen’s ear or full coffers. Some clans, more than others, have suffered greatly,” Laird Munro argued.
“Which is why I ask for this alliance, Laird Munro. Ye aligned yerself many times wit’ our enemies, but today we can change all that. ‘Tis no about our differences but of our commonalities as Scotsmen. These feuds must end if we are to thrive,” Ian explained in a calm tone, but in his eyes, he was seething.
“Then I want what is rightfully mine—five hundred acres to the north from Clan Ross and the two hundred acres of Rose land. We had a contract before the auld laird died, and he had defaulted on that loan.”
“Now, wait just a minute!” Aiden interjected. “I have looked through my grandfather’s ledgers, and it shows that all the loans Thomas borrowed have been paid in full.”
“Then ye saw wrong, lad,” Laird Munro accused.
“Do ye have copies of these ledgers?” Ian asked.
“Aye, I can bring them to ye directly in the morn’.”
“Laird Munro, I will consider your grievances, but war wit’ Clan Ross…well, that is inadvisable as the odds are no’ in yer favor.”
“We shall see about that,” Laird Munro cautioned. With a measured gaze, he turned to Aiden, his expression grave. “As for ye, while ye may possess the title and the reverence that comes wit’ being a laird, yer status has yet to be officially recognized. I have no’ forgotten the ill-treatment of my daughter, Laird McKeirnan, and I will make sure ye pay for yer…disrespect.”
Those were his final words before he turned on his heel and stomped away.
“Dinna ye worry about Laird Munro, if ye have those documents, then ye have our support,” Ian assured him.
The sun’s light was barely visible through the thick canopy of trees. Aiden clenched his jaw, still simmering from the harsh accusations hurled at him by Larid Munro. With a determined grip on the reins, he urged his horse through the tangled bramble thicket, the underbrush rustling softly with each careful step. The path back home was familiar, but it felt longer today. The weight of his turbulent thoughts made time seem to stretch, but he welcomed the slow pace. It had given him time to think.
A rustle sounded behind him. He peered over his shoulder. A shadowy figure darted across the trees. Too swift to be a deer, Aiden’s hand instinctively hovered over the hilt of his sword. He stopped his horse, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the surrounding trees. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end as the noise grew louder.
Aiden held the reins tightly in his hand. “Whoa, lass. Ye feel it as well, eh?” The horse reared up and stomped her hooves, indicating that she was unsettled. “Who goes there?” he called, but there was no answer in return.
The crunching sound of leaves on the forest floor caught his attention as a large black wolf-like creature emerged. He waited to see the animal’s intentions, but Aiden shook off his apprehension with relief when the overly plump dog happily stepped toward him. The large animal resembled a childhood dog he had once called Beggar, a bloodhound his father would take hunting. Aiden dismounted.
“Well, aren’t ye a beasty one?” Aiden said, scratching the dog behind the ear as he laughed at the ridiculousness of his rushing thoughts, but before he could react, the sudden rush of movement came from behind him as three men emerged. They were fast and precise, each armed and wearing weathered cloaks that helped them blend with the forest around them. They circled him, causing the horse to step lightly from side to side. Aiden’s heart pounded, his instincts telling him to fight, but he knew the odds were not in his favor even as he braced himself.
One of them, the tallest of the three, approached with a sneer curling on his lips. His voice was rough as if he hadn’t used it in days. “Ye’re a hard mon to track down, McKeirnan.”
“And who are ye to be looking for me?” he demanded, his voice low, though his pulse raced with the realization that these men were not after a simple skirmish. He did not know these men, nor could he have insulted them in some way to provoke them to seek vengeance. They were after him with an entirely different agenda.
“We were hired men, sent to bring ye to our laird, dead or alive. Dinna care which. I’ll let ye decide.”
“And who is this laird ye speak of?” Aiden’s stomach twisted. He had a faint idea who would have hired mercenaries to capture him, but the thought made his blood run cold.
“We’ll be getting to that,” the second one, shorter and stockier than the others, said.
“Well, I have no intention of leaving wit’ ye without a fight,” Aiden expressed.
“I was hoping ye’d say that. Yer reputation precedes ye, McKeirnan. But that’s no’ going to save ye today.”
Aiden’s eyes flicked to the trees around him. The three men had him surrounded, and they were trained and too experienced to be quickly dispatched. His heart raced as he considered his options.
He drew his sword, but the first man struck before Aiden could move. Pain seared through his shoulder and down his right side as he struggled to maintain his grip on his sword against his opponent’s onslaught. Another bone-jarring blow from the warrior’s broadsword forced Aiden to his knees. His sword slipped from his grasp. Blood oozed from the wound along his right side. He drew a staggered breath, then collapsed onto his side. Before he could react, a heavy rope looped around his waist, pinning his arms to his side and pulling him down to his knees with a brutal yank. The reins slipped from his hand, and the horse bolted, disappearing through the trees. He twisted, trying to free himself, but the rope was tight, and the mercenaries moved like wolves, closing in on him. The short man placed his beefy hands on Aiden’s shoulders and drove his knee into his core. Bile rose to his throat from the blow. Aiden fell to the ground.
“Get him on his feet,” the tall one ordered.
The stocky one grabbed Aiden’s arms, forcing him upright, while the quiet third man circled behind, his dagger glinting in the light as he pressed it tight to Aiden’s neck. Aiden froze. The cold steel against his skin sent shivers down his spine. His chest tightened. He had been caught off guard, isolated, outnumbered, and unprepared for an ambush. He should have listened to Trey. He should not have traveled alone. Aiden struggled unsuccessfully to free himself from their grip, but it only tightened the rope even more.
“Easy now, McKeirnan,” the tall one continued, his smirk widening. “We get a hefty bounty if we deliver ye alive.”
“Who sent ye,” Aiden asked through gritted teeth.
“Ye’ll find out soon enough.”
They dragged him through the forest, forcing him to march at a pace he couldn’t maintain, the weight of the rope chafing against his wrists. By the time they reached a secluded clearing, Aiden had time to rest as they tied him tightly to a tree. A cold dread began to settle in Aiden’s chest as his mind settled on one thought.
No one was coming for him.