Page 10 of Rescued By the Highland Warrior (Highland Whispers of Love #1)

CHAPTER TEN

“ I appreciate ye takin’ tae Lady Wilson an’ our relationship so well, Maither.” Roderick said, regaining his focus. Roderick shook the thought of Moira from his mind, for whether his mother saw something genuine between them or not was unimportant.

Whatever he felt or did not feel toward Moira, he reminded himself, was not the reason why he had gone to his mother’s study that afternoon. He couldn’t help but think that she, despite her best of intentions, was trying to distract him from his initial question. But he could not desist.

“Please,” Roderick continued “tell me somethin’, anythin’, about Faither ‘afore his death. Anythin’ that ye can.”

She sighed, her shoulders sinking. “There’s nay use searching fer conspiracies, Roderick, or what ye could have done. What’s happened, happened.”

“Maither,” he said softly, taking a step closer, as his eyes locked onto hers. He could see the pain she’d been masking beneath her smile ever since his father had died.

It was difficult for him too, but he had to press on. “I’m nae askin’ fer a tale o’ betrayal, I’d just like tae ken how he was up until his last breath.”

Isobel looked away, her blue eyes sweeping beyond the window toward the towering hills. She appeared to be weighing something in her mind, and her was the most solemn he’d seen it for a while.

“Yer faither,” she said silently, “was very sick. He had problems breathin’ and some light vomitin’. There was naething out o’ the ordinary, just what ye’d expect after eatin’ something that had gone off.”

Her words hung in the air for a few moments, and then silence fell as Roderick glanced out the window too, pondering her words. He wondered, could there really have been something, in that large expanse of rolling green hills that could have made his father so sick? He clung to the hope that Moira would figure it out.

Deciding not to press her further on the subject for the moment, Roderick turned to face her, his tone earnest. “Thank ye, Maither.” he said, “I appreciate ye tellin’ me that.”

Roderick didn’t think the information he gathered from her would be enough, but he didn’t want to distress her more than he already had.

“Enough o’ that,” she said, taking in a breath and turning to face him, as her usual smile returned to her face. “Ye have much tae look forward tae wi’ that bride of yers, and this castle is goin’ tae be filled wi’ naething but joy an’ laughter.”

“Aye,” he said, looking into her eyes as his chest filled with guilt. He’d find some way to make everyone happy, his mother especially, he promised himself. “It will be, dinnae worry, Maither.”

“Well, I’m sure ye have plenty tae be seein’ tae,” she said, waving her hand dismissively, her tone light.

Roderick gave a small nod, the weight of his responsibilities settling back onto his shoulders. “Aye, a laird’s work is never done.”

“Until later,” she said as he turned for the door. “An’ remember Roderick—joy!”

Roderick paused as he went to turn the handle, a half-smile tugging at his lips. He wished that it was as simple as that. He had much to solve before he could even think of joy. Even more so, he didn’t believe he deserved it yet.

“Aye, Maither,” he said, his voice softer than before, “I’ll try.”

With that he stepped into the hall, closing the door behind him. With everything that had happened since that morning, he had forgotten that he was supposed to meet Cameron and was already a half hour late.

The field where he met Cameron for their weekly sparring sessions was just beyond the stables, a wide, open space that was close enough to the castle to reach quickly, but far away enough to spar in private.

As he exited the castle with haste, making his way through the courtyard, the cold wind bit at his skin.

He hurried, until he reached the field, spotting Cameron amidst the tall grass swaying in the breeze. His friend stood with his back to him, adjusting the leather straps of his kilt and preparing his wooden sword for practice.

“Ye’re late, me laird,” Cameron called out, not turning to face him, his tone light but with a hint of challenge.

Roderick smirked and swung his cloak off, tossing it aside before moving further through the frost-bitten field. The conditions weren’t ideal, but Cameron and Roderick were accustomed to sparring each week, no matter how bitter the weather.

“Aye, had a bit o’ business tae take care o’.”

As Cameron turned to face him, he chucked him a wooden sword that Roderick caught in his right hand with ease.

They squared off a few paces apart, eyes locked, as the wind bit into their faces.

"Ready, then?" Cameron asked, raising an eyebrow, as they both took their stances.

"Ready," Roderick replied, his jaw tightening.

Without warning, Cameron lunged forward, his sword moving with speed towards his target.

Roderick countered him with a swift block, the impact cracking through the air and drowning out the howling wind. As they continued, Cameron was relentless, and Roderick was mainly on defense—differing from his usual style.

"Somethin' on yer mind?" Cameron grunted, dodging a swing and stepping in close to land a light tap to Roderick’s stomach with the flat of his sword. “Ye seem distracted.”

Roderick's breath was heavy as he shifted his weight, raising his sword again as Cameron stepped back. “There’s a lot on me mind,” he said, “ye’re nae wrong there.”

“Care to share?” Cameron called over the wind. Roderick’s eyes narrowed, his muscles tensing in preparation for Cameron's next move, but he was momentarily caught off guard when Cameron suddenly dropped his sword, crossed his arms, and smirked at him appraisingly.

“What’s this?” He asked. “Givin’ up so soon?”

“Nay,” he chuckled. “Just givin’ ye a chance tae speak yer mind. All this broodin’ cannae be good fer ye.”

Roderick lowered his sword, considering what information he could share with Cameron without really sharing any information at all. “Ye’re right,” he said. “I’ve been thinkin’ a great deal, but mostly about the weight o’ this new position—the position o’ laird. It’s all come at me so fast, an’ I worry…”

But before Roderick could continue, footsteps sounded behind him, and his words trailed off as he saw Cameron’s expression change.

He turned around to face a young squire with flushed cheeks, his breath coming out in quick anxious bursts. He clutched rolled parchment paper in his hands, an expression of deep urgency on his face.

“Me laird, I bear urgent news,” he said, his voice trembling.

“Speak lad,” Roderick said, his voice calm but quick. “What news dae ye bring?”

“I regret tae inform ye that there’s been a large fire in the southern part o’ the land,” the squire said, his eyes darting nervously. “It’s burned through the fields where one o’ the Fraser’s major wheat crops is kept. We’re workin’ to salvage what we can, but…” The boy hesitated, his voice faltering. “It daesnae look good, me laird.”

Roderick stared out at the Highlands, the wind breaking across his face as the weight of the situation bore down on him.

“Thank ye,” he said to the squire, before turning to Cameron. “Gather the Council immediately,” he said. “We have much tae discuss.”

The Council room was lit by the glow of flickering torches, as the day outside grew darker, the sun hidden behind a shield of grey. The men were still settling into their places when Roderick strode in, and the murmurs of their voices hushed as soon as he entered.

Roderick kept his voice and his movements steady. Despite his urgency, he was cautious to act with confidence and authority. He didn’t want the Council making any decisions in haste.

“Gentlemen,” he said, making his way toward the head of the table. “I apologize fer us havin’ tae convene again, but we face a challengin’ situation.”

There was a moment’s silence as he sat down.

“There’s been a large fire in the southern fields,” he continued. “The damage tae Fraser wheat crops is severe, and while we’re workin’ tae salvage what we can, I fear it may be too late.”

Gasps rippled throughout the room, although he was sure that many of them already knew, given the way in which news spread around the castle.

“So, everythin’ is gone?” A Councilman asked.

“We’re nae sure, but we should presume as much,” Roderick said shortly. “Now we can dae a number of things. I believe we should first assess the damage properly before actin’ in too much haste. But it’ll make sense tae at least try and increase our harvests as much as we can in other areas—particularly wi’ the barley fields tae the north.”

“But we’re already short,” a Councilman said, “wi’ the rate we’re goin’ at now…”

Roderick held up a hand to calm the murmurs that began to rise. “Aye, I ken we’re already stretched thin.”

A sly smile swept across Lennox’s face as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. He raised his hand in a slow, deliberate gesture to mirror Roderick’s own. “It’s a little less than convenient, is it nae, laird, that yer betrothed tae a lass o’ a clan who can offer us land but nae crops?”

Roderick frowned, fighting to keep his composure. The manner in which Lennox spoke to him reminded Roderick of when he was a child. He could still recall with perfect clarity, the way his father’s friends used to tease him. At the time it had been in jest, a lighthearted reminder that just because he was the son of the laird, it did not mean he yet understood the intricacies of rule.

But now, as the official Laird of Castle Fraser, Roderick was insulted that Lennox still insisted on treating him as though he were just a young bairn.

Roderick had been thrust into the position, and he doubted at times whether he knew best, although he was sure any good laird should. But there was no legitimate reason that Lennox should not trust that he knew what to do with his people, and how to serve his clan.

It was insulting, and with all that had gone on that day, Roderick was even less inclined to entertain Lennox than usual.

“I didnae call this Council tae discuss me betrothal again Lennox, although I ken well that ye have yer opinion,” he said sternly. “I called ye all here tae discuss solutions, an’ I’d like tae hear what ye have tae say.”

Cameron cleared his throat. “I agree, me laird, that it makes sense tae try our best tae increase production, but I share our Council's concerns over stretchin’ ourselves, perhaps a little too thin.”

“Aye,” Roderick said nodding to Cameron, grateful as usual for his input. “I agree, we need tae consider other options tae bolster our stores. There are neighborin’ clans we’ve worked with in the past, an’ perhaps we could arrange trades tae cover what we’ve lost.”

“A sound idea, me laird,” a stout Councilman said a few seats down from Roderick. “But it depends on which clans ye’ve in mind. Some are easier tae deal with than others.”

“Aye,” Roderick agreed. “Clan MacGregor comes tae mind. They’ve fertile lands tae the west, and they’ve had bountiful harvests the past few seasons. Barley, oats, and even root vegetables, if I recall correctly.”

Cameron nodded. “They dae have plenty. But MacGregor’s nae one tae give freely. Ye’ll need tae offer somethin’ substantial in return.”

“True,” Roderick said. “We’ve wool and timber in abundance. Both are valuable, especially durin’ this winter. I believe we could trade with that.”

“How about the MacDonalds?” An old Councilman asked. “It may be a little tricky with them, but we’ve helped them plenty in the past, and I’m certain they have nae forgotten.”

Roderick frowned. “Aye, the MacDonalds might be hesitant tae trade openly, but if we approach them with respect an’ a fair offer, we might find them amenable. Timber could be o’ interest tae them, as their northern forests were hit hard by storms last spring.”

“An’ what if these clans refuse?” Lennox challenged. “What will we dae then?”

Roderick thought carefully, surveying the room until his eyes landed upon Malcolm. He did not expect to see him there again, given that he seldom attended Council meetings anymore. His being present at two meetings in such a short time was a curious development.

Seeing Malcolm also reminded him of the coldness with which he had approached Moira. For reasons he could not explain, it irritated him, and he wanted to avoid engaging with him too much. Still, his presence at the meeting was an opportunity Roderick could not ignore.

“Malcolm,” he said. “It is good tae see ye here again today.”

“An’ ye, me laird,” Malcolm replied, leaning back in his chair, his expression guarded.

“How are yer fields faring this year?” Roderick asked, fixing him with a deliberate look. “If ye have anythin’ further tae spare, perhaps we could come tae some sort o’ agreement.”

Roderick assumed that sorting something with Malcolm would be easier than engaging different clans in negotiations, which could potentially worsen their relations.

Malcolm hesitated for a moment, before clearing his throat to talk. “I’m afraid this year has nae gone as well as I’d hoped. The crop has been bad. The wheat has barely been enough tae feed our own.”

Roderick looked around the room, and it appeared as though he was the only one to be shocked by Malcolm’s words.

A bad crop?” he repeated, careful to keep his voice neutral. “I had nae heard of this ‘afore. Did the storms affect yer fields?”

“Aye,” Malcolm said, his tone curt. “The storms and some blight in the early spring. We’ve been struggling tae make up fer it ever since.”

“An’ why did ye nae bring this up tae us afore? It seems more than relevant tae this Council, daes it nae?”

“Aye, me laird,” Malcolm said. “I didnae wish tae burden ye wi’ it given all that has come to pass. I see now that was wrong.”

Roderick studied him, his instincts prickling. Malcolm’s demeanor was oddly guarded and his answer made little sense. It didn’t sit right with Roderick, but this was neither the time nor the place to press him. The room was tense enough, and Roderick was focused on finding solutions rather than making accusations for the time being. The time for solving this other little mystery would come.

“I see,” Roderick said finally, inclining his head. “If that’s the case, I’ll nae burden ye further.”

Roderick tried to think positively. Perhaps one of the other clans would trade—although he knew better than to rely on that. Most other clans were experiencing similar shortages, and even if they were able to get some crop with what they had to offer in return, it likely wouldn’t be enough to make up for half of what they’d lost.

“We need tae keep lookin’ at options,” Roderick said firmly, glancing around the table. “This is a challenge, but nae an insurmountable one. I’d like everyone tae think on it and come prepared with ideas ahead o’ our next meeting. That includes any smaller, unconventional approaches. Every bit counts.”

There were a few nods and murmurs of agreement from the councilmen, though the air remained heavy with the weight of the discussion.

“An’ we will continue tae trade wi’ clan Wilson as planned.”

As the Council members began to talk among themselves, discussing options and plans, Cameron leaned in close to Roderick, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Roderick, is everythin’ all right?”

Perhaps Roderick didn’t look as calm and collected as he had thought, but he didn’t mind Cameron knowing the truth– the situation had turned desperate.

“It will be” he responded. “We just need tae find a solution.”

Cameron nodded, “Aye,” he said. “An’ we will.”

Roderick excused himself from the table, leaving the councilmen to their discussions. He left the room with one person in mind – Moira.