Page 6 of Rescued By the Highland Warrior (Highland Whispers of Love #1)

CHAPTER SIX

R oderick awoke the next morning without having truly rested. How could he have? Once he had returned to his chambers, his mind had spiraled as he had continued to go over and over the evening’s events.

Perhaps Moira had been right, not letting him charge at the shadowy figure lurking by his father’s bed chamber– but he couldn’t let go of his frustration. He kept trying to conjure the scene, searching for anything he’d missed, and thus spent the night tossing and turning.

Who was it? What did they look like?

Despite his efforts, he had nothing. Whoever they were, they were certainly adept at hiding away in the shadows, so quiet that he wouldn’t even have heard them coming if it hadn’t been for Moira.

His thoughts went inadvertently back to that brief moment when he had let her press him against the wall. There was something so entrancing about Moira, that he had been compelled to follow her lead.

He recalled her face inches from his, her piercing green eyes like two emeralds burning with fire in the darkness.

As the sun streamed through Roderick’s frost-covered window, casting a warm yellow glow throughout his chamber, Roderick rose wearily and began to prepare for the day ahead.

He had a Council meeting that morning and felt a small flicker of guilt for leaving his councilmen in the dark about the previous night’s incident. But the feeling was fleeting—Roderick quickly reminded himself that there were few he could trust.

Roderick distractedly made his way to the Council chamber a couple floors above his own.

He pushed open the large wooden doors, into a long room with high, vaulted ceilings and exposed, intricately carved wooden beams illuminated by the morning glow.

He observed the Council members sitting at the long oak table that stood in the center of the room, chatting among themselves with murmurs echoing across the hall. He wondered who he could trust. Could there be a wolf in sheep’s clothing among them?

The fine wooden chair, the one that was vacant at the head of the table, was the laird’s chair. It was polished, upholstered with leather, slightly grander than all the others.

Roderick made his way toward it, and as he did, the Council’s murmurs quieted. Most of them turned to look at him, but Lennox, a frail sickly-looking man with a ghostly appearance was not one of them. Roderick, accustomed to Lennox’s moods, paid him no heed. He was but an old man.

Roderick had expected him to slowly take more of a backseat on issues concerning the Council at that point in his life. But Lennox’s determination burned with the fervor of a man half his age.

With his arms crossed, and his gaze fixed stubbornly on the polished table, he radiated his usual air of silent disapproval.

“Good mornin’ gentlemen,” Roderick began, “We have much tae discuss and I trust ye have all come prepared.”

Roderick looked pointedly at each councilmember before taking his seat at the head of the table. He noted Malcolm sitting next to Lennox, his expression unreadable—neither pleased nor disapproving. That’s the way it often was with Malcolm, you never quite knew where you stood with him.

Roderick rested his arms on the carved armrests of the laird's chair, the faint crackle of the fireplace along with the distant bustling of the castle the only sounds in the air.

Roderick felt confident leading the council, it was a welcome contrast to the unease of the night before.

However, as he went through the order of the day, discussing matters of trade, defense, and the upcoming harvest, he noticed that the usual rhythm of these meetings seemed strained. While some men nodded in agreement or raised concerns in turn, others remained quiet—as if there was an undercurrent of tension—something was not being said.

“An’ now,” Roderick continued, “as our last order, I wanted tae discuss wi’ ye the matters o’ me betrothal, in particular when an’ how me fiancée and I plan tae be wed.”

The councilmen fell silent, but the sounds of rustling papers, light murmurs and the subtle creaks of chairs filled the room. He quickly noticed that many of the men were avoiding his gaze, their attention instead drifting toward Lennox. Even those not looking directly at Lennox, had a furtive look about them, shuffling their papers around needlessly, intent on masking their unease.

Roderick almost smiled, more amused than irritated, as Lennox loudly cleared his throat. He watched as the old man drummed his thin, bony fingers on the polished surface of the table, his expression as pouty as a young babe’s.

“Lennox,” Roderick called, his voice echoing with authority as it boomed across the table. “Dae ye have somethin’ ye’d like tae add?”

“Me?” Lennox replied, his tone light, eyebrows raised in exaggerated innocence, and a sly smile. “Why nay, Laird. I dinnae believe so, unless, o’ course, ye think I should?”

Roderick’s sharp gaze locked onto Lennox’s, his patience running thin. “Ye seem awfully pleased with yerself fer someone with nothin’ tae say. Speak, Lennox. What’s on yer mind? Ye ken ye can speak yer mind here.”

Lennox looked around the room at their fellow councilmen as though waiting for someone else to speak. Roderick noticed how many of the men avoided the old man’s gaze, as though they were afraid. Malcolm, as usual, stared blankly ahead with an air of bored detachment.

Lennox tilted his head, once again tapping his fingers on the table.

“It’s nae me mind, laird. I only observe the minds o’ others in this room. Seems there’s plenty stirrin' in them, though perhaps they lack the courage tae voice it.”

The room tensed further, a few councilmen shifting uncomfortably in their seats. Roderick’s eyes swept the table.

“Is that so?” Roderick questioned, his voice icy but calm. “Then let me mak’ it simple fer all o’ ye. If there’s a concern regardin’ me leadership—or me betrothal—this is the time tae voice it. I’ll have nay whispers or hidden agendas poisonin’ this Council.”

The silence hung heavy in the air after Roderick spoke, and for a moment he thought that no one would talk, but he had strong resolve and he’d keep the council running overtime if he had to.

Then, suddenly, one of the younger councilmen hesitantly cleared his throat. “Me laird,” he began. “It isnae that there are whispers or hidden agendas, far from it. It is just that there are some slight... reservations fer some o’ us. Ye see, it isnae a question o’ yer leadership, it is just that none o’ us ken yer betrothed or her family, an’ well, the timin’ o’ it is a wee bit suspicious, is it nae?”

“An’ what dae ye mean by suspicious, exactly?”

If Roderick hadn’t known any better, he would have been concerned. The thought that they might know who Moira was and why she was there briefly crossed his mind, but from the satisfied look on Lennox’s face, he knew exactly what this was.

“Well,” the young man continued, “what if she’s tryin’ tae take advantage o’ ye or our clan, me laird? Ye are a young laird who has just taken the position after yer faither’s demise. When one daesnae ken a family very well, or perhaps even a lassie herself, one never kens exactly what their intentions may be.”

“An’ who is in agreement wi’ this sentiment?” Roderick asked, looking around the room, to which a few of the councilmen nodded with careful hesitation.

“See me laird,” Lennox interjected smoothly. “It’s nae that we doubt yer judgment, of course. But there’s wisdom in caution, aye? A hasty alliance, especially wi’ a family we dinnae ken well, could bring… unintended consequences.”

Roderick smiled to himself, making a concentrated effort to retain his composure. “May I point out tae all o' ye that we had agreed as a Council that there was a strong need fer more grain an' land. Ye only need tae go so far beyond our castle’s gates tae see that. Need I remind ye that this is exactly somethin' Moira’s family can provide? Or have ye forgotten, swayed by the seductive words o' one o' our Council members?”

Lennox’s smirk faltered ever so slightly as they stared at one another from across the table. He leaned and whispered something to Malcolm, who was sitting right beside him.

“Nay,” the young man stuttered. “That isnae the case. But it is our duty as yer councilmen tae ensure that ye are makin' the right choice. Or speak if we believe there tae be any considerations pertainin' tae yer judgement.”

A few councilmen nodded in cautious agreement, their movements slow and deliberate as though unsure of how far to commit.

“An’ what, Lennox, have ye tae say?”

Lennox leaned back in his chair, his expression as calm and calculated as ever. “I dinnae wish tae sway any man one way or the other wi' seductive words. I only wish tae serve ye, me laird.”

Roderick wasn’t too troubled by Lennox’s machinations in truth, despite his overt arrogance and disrespect towards him. He had expected them. What concerned him was the reaction of the rest of his councilmen. The subtle shifts in the demeanor of those who had been convinced by Lennox, possibly with Malcolm’s aid, but did not have the courage or the conviction to say how they truly felt.

"I see that there is some hesitation," Roderick said, his tone steady as he leaned forward slightly, hands resting on the table's edge. "But let’s go through the facts that we ken, shall we? Did Moira nae fit in well last night at the betrothal feast? She introduced hersel' wi' grace, spoke kindly tae all in attendance, an' carried hersel' wi' dignity befittin' a lass o' her standing, did she nae?"

He paused, allowing his words to settle, scanning the room for any rebuttal. None came, though a few councilmen exchanged glances.

"Did she nae engage each of ye in conversation?" Roderick pressed on, his voice firm but without anger. "Did she nae ask after yer families, yer lands, an’ yer concerns fer this clan? If any man here can claim she was anythin' less than respectful, let him speak now."

The room remained silent.

"An’ as fer her family," Roderick continued, his tone sharpening slightly, "they bring resources we sorely need. Land an’ connections that could bolster trade an' strengthen alliances. Once again, are these nae the very things we agreed were necessary fer the prosperity of our clan?”

A few murmurs of agreement rippled through the Council, but Lennox remained silent, his eyes locked on Roderick with an air of defiance.

“Aye,” Cameron spoke at last, breaking the tension. “I didnae want tae speak until now so as nae tae interrupt ye, but I agree. This will be good fer the clan. When someone new comes along, it always takes time fer folk tae adjust. But Roderick kens what he is doin’, regardless of suspicions or how any one of us feels about the lass—which is, fer the most part, nae important.”

He looked around the room, his steady voice gaining confidence as he saw a few councilmen nodding in agreement. “What matters is what this alliance will bring tae the clan. Land, resources, an' strength. If the laird kens this is the best path forward, then I, fer one, stand behind him.”

Roderick inclined his head toward Cameron, a flicker of gratitude crossing his face. “Thank ye, Cameron. Ye speak wi’ the wisdom and loyalty I’d expect from a man o’ this Council.”

Malcolm scoffed, the sound sharp and dismissive as it cut through the tense air. “Wisdom, is it? Or blind loyalty masqueradin’ as such?”

“Ye would dae well tae watch yer tongue,” Cameron said, his eyes sharp and his voice edged with caution. Cameron was quick to anger when it came to matters of loyalty, but Roderick knew that his faith was not blind. Roderick could count on him to speak the truth when needed, for more than a fellow Council member, Cameron was a close friend. They told each other everything, and while he felt some guilt not disclosing the truth about Moira, he knew that he would ultimately understand.

“We’re here tae serve the laird an’ this clan,” he continued, “nae tae undermine him wi’ baseless insinuations.”

“Aye,” Roderick said, speaking with clarity. “I promise ye. If at any point ye find evidence that shows me betrothal tae Lady Wilson doesnae benefit the clan, I’ll find a way tae break it off wi’out causin’ any harm. So, I ask ye now, dae ye have evidence?

The table turned to look at Lennox, who leaned back, a scowl across his face.

“Nay, me Laird,” Lennox admitted, though his voice carried a bitter edge. “I’ve nay evidence. Only concerns.”

“Concerns without substance are whispers in the wind,” Roderick said, his voice calm but resolute. “An’ whispers alone cannae guide the decisions o’ this council. However, I dae believe each concern, nae matter how baseless, tae be o’ importance, an’ I can assure everyone that I dinnae tak’ the matter lightly.”

“Prove it,” Malcolm muttered.

“I beg yer pardon?”

Lennox met his gaze, emboldened now, though his fingers twitched as if betraying his unease. “If ye say ye tak’ our concerns seriously, then leave it tae all o’ us tae decide. Befittin’, is it nae, since the decision affects us all?”

“An’ how dae ye propose that?”

“We have a vote,” Lennox said. “All those in favor stand tae the left side o’ the room, all those against stand tae the right.”

“Lennox–” Cameron began, practically seething. His eyes narrowed as he glared across the table. “This is nae the way tae resolve such matters.”

“Nay,” Roderick said pensively, leaning back in his chair. While he didn’t want to jeopardize the plan he had set up with Moira, Roderick also believed in the necessity of addressing the problems in his Council head on.

“Let’s dae a vote, if that’ll put the matter to rest–I’d at least like tae see where all of ye stand.”

Murmurs spread across the room, and then slowly came the sounds of wooden chairs creaking across the stone floors as one by one each of the members of the Council stood up from the table to make their choice.

Roderick watched carefully as Lennox marched defiantly to the right-side of the room, followed by Malcolm, and Cameron to the left. The others followed, some with more deliberation, others with a quiet certainty.

After a few minutes, once Roderick was sure that he had counted his men properly, he was shocked to discover that there was an equal number of members on each side. He counted again and the result was unchanged.

What daes this mean?

Roderick couldn’t simply ignore the wishes of his Council, even if they didn’t really understand what was going on. He had to prove that he was taking the matter seriously, but still, he needed more time.

“I see,” he said, standing abruptly. “Ye have given me much tae think about and think on it I will. Council dismissed.”

There was an air of finality to his tone despite his inner turmoil, and he walked out of the Council’s chamber determined more than ever to solve his father’s case quickly.