Page 3 of The Anguish of the Scottish Lairds (Clans of Mull #3)

Sloan

Sloan led Eva’s horse to the gates of Dounarwyse Castle. He dropped to the ground, then turned and set his hands at her waist and lifted her down. He placed her an appropriate distance away from him.

If he had his preference, he would have kissed her sweet, rosy lips, but Eva would not have been receptive to any such thing from him. He’d always had a soft spot for her, but he knew the feelings were not reciprocated.

That was why he’d proposed to Gormal. He’d thought Eva was going to be betrothed to an English earl, Sir Basil de Stain, or whatever the hell his name was. Sloan’s father had been pressuring him to marry and get an heir or two, but he’d procrastinated, hoping Eva would change her mind. It had never happened.

He liked Gormal. She was a sweet lass, but apparently she hadn’t been interested in marrying him at all. She’d fallen to her death from a cliff after telling her sister she couldn’t bear to marry him.

He never knew what the lass had hated about him, but he had to admit that her death had a major effect on him still being unmarried.

He surely couldn’t survive another lass taking her own life over his inadequacies. In fact, at one point, he wished to ask Eva why she wasn’t interested in him, but after Gormal, he decided never to ask that question.

Clearly, there was something very wrong with Sloan for a lass to choose death over life with him. Others had told him she had problems thinking clearly, but it did nothing to change one fact he knew for sure—he was a total failure at romantic relationships.

He’d nearly given up on the idea of Eva as his wife, but after what de Stain had done to her, would she possibly reconsider his offer? Perhaps he should visit Lennox and ask him.

He vowed to give it more consideration.

“My thanks to you, Sloan, but I must go inside now.”

He nodded and went on his way. He had many things to tend to on his land. His brother’s wanderings, the issue of the activity on the bay, the seed count, the harvest of the summer’s plantings, and his father, forever complaining about one thing or another. Sloan headed home, two of his guards flanking him.

As he approached Rankin land, he noticed Miles waving to him from afar.

“Just in time, Chief. Please follow me to the water’s edge.”

Sloan followed Miles, his second-in-command, down to the coastline past his castle. “I don’t understand what you’re saying, Miles. What have you seen, exactly?”

“I am not sure,” Miles said, then stopped at the edge of Dun Ara Castle where they could see Coll, Kilchoan on Ardnamurchan, and Rum on a clear day. He took in the activity at Kilchoan, where ships often docked. “There’s more going on than I’m used to seeing.”

Sloan’s brother, Rinaldo, joined them. “What are you looking for?”

Sloan shrugged. “Naught in particular. Miles thinks he’s seen more activity around Kilchoan than usual. What do you think, Rinaldo?” Since it was his brother’s job to watch the vessels on the sea, he should have reported any change in activity to him, not Miles. What was his brother doing?”

“I haven’t seen anything unusual. I’m not as bright as Miles, but I can see ships easy enough. I would report it to you, Chief, if I saw anything odd.” Rinaldo gave the wide smile he was known for. Easygoing and always helpful, his brother did the best he could with what he had, but a problem at birth had slowed his faculties, or so their mother thought.

“What the hell are you looking for, Sloan?” his father, Dermot, asked. He strode down the hill carefully, his steps slow and deliberate on the rocky path. His father had aged much since losing his wife nearly a year ago.

Sloan nearly groaned because he hated it when his father got involved with any of his affairs with his men. No matter what Sloan was doing, he was wrong. His father loved to point out his failings, and the more ears there were around to take it all in, the happier his sire was. Dermot had been miserable ever since his wife, Ailis, had passed on.

Sloan had paid the price ever since. Even more so since that fateful day nearly a year ago, the day he’d lost Gormal. Another of Sloan’s supposed failings that his father loved to mention.

“Miles says the activity in the seas has picked up. We just started our discussion.”

“Ask Rinaldo. He’s always here to watch for you. It’s his job, and he does it well.”

“There’s nothing out there, Da. You are looking well this morn. You must be feeling better,” Rinaldo said, moving over next to their sire to clasp his shoulder.

“I am, Rinaldo. I’m glad one of my sons is concerned about me,” he grumbled, glaring at Sloan.

“Da, you just got here.” Sloan held out his hands to let him know that he was being unreasonable.

Again.

“You wouldn’t care, Sloan. Don’t deny it.” His father spit off to the side.

Sloan decided it was best to ignore the old man with all his aches and pains. Everything had turned worse since Mama had passed. He’d had no idea that he should have thanked his mother daily for listening to her husband. How he wished she were still here to listen to the man.

“Miles, any special type of ship?”

“Galleys sailing, mostly. Oarsmen, but not the usual amount. I see the most in Kilchoan Bay. But I don’t understand why.”

Sloan made a mental note to speak with Lennox about the matter. He’d been on Ardnamurchan recently, and he recalled some prediction the wee lass Lia had made then. Should they take the word of the lass?

That much he hadn’t decided on yet. When had the chieftains of several clans ever listened to the warnings of a lass of only six summers? Surely, they were daft considering it. He had more important things to think about.

“Did Eva accept yet?” his father asked.

Sloan held in the growl he wished to let loose on his father. The old man just wouldn’t let things rest, instead believing in constant pestering, like a toddler. “I don’t know. Nothing is official. I’m waiting to speak with Lennox. You know these things take time, Da.”

“Shouldn’t take time. The lass should consider her good fortune to be asked by a chieftain and say aye. Arrange the wedding next week. No reason to wait for her approval.”

Rinaldo took a step closer, his face bright. “Eva hasn’t answered yet, Sloan? I think you will make a fine couple. I would love to have her as a sister.” Rinaldo nodded to let Sloan know he approved vehemently, another one of those things his brother loved to do.

“First of all, I haven’t asked her or Lennox yet. I’ll let you know when I decide anything. I need to venture into our stores and decide what seed to order. I’ll be going to the mainland for more soon.”

“I told you that you didn’t order enough seed. The beans are slim this year.”

Sloan stopped in his tracks, grumbled to himself, then turned around to his father, ready to argue the point with him because he kept careful records and did frequent calculations to make sure all was well, but that was another thing his father believed he failed at. “Is your belly full, Da?”

“Aye, it’s full. But you should have ordered more.”

A voice called to them from the top of the hill. “A word with you, Chief, if you have the time.”

Sloan was more than happy to meet with the speaker, whomever it was. It meant he could get away from his sire. “Rinaldo, help Da up the hill. Miles, come with me.”

“I don’t need anyone’s help,” his father yelled, then dropped his voice and said, “Rinaldo, give me your arm so I can hang on to you.”

“I heard that, Da.” Sloan headed toward the castle, facing the opposite direction so his father couldn’t see his smile.

“Heard what? I didn’t say naught. You need to get your hearing checked, Sloan.”

Miles said, “You are a patient man, Chief.”

Sloan peered up ahead, then said, “Ramsay, what brings you here? Come,” he said, nearly at the top. “I’ll find a nice ale for you. I even have a new batch of our best amber liquid if you’d like a taste.”

Logan Ramsay smiled widely, something Sloan hadn’t seen often. “I’ll accept on the amber brew. My favorite. Let’s see how your barrel brew matches to others I’ve had. Who brews the finest on the isle?”

“It would have to be ours or MacVey’s. Thane hasn’t started to brew any yet, though his second, Artan, has been asking many questions about it.”

“I’ll have to test both a few times before I decide,” he said, waggling his brow.

“I’m sure you’ll find ours the best.”

The group of three headed toward the castle, Sloan leading the way. “When we reach the solar, give me your news quickly, Ramsay. My sire will be here as soon as he can, but some news is better not for his ears these days.”

“Turning daft, is he?” Logan asked.

Sloan said, “Not daft, but he’s become a true curmudgeon. He’s not going to like anything you say.”

Miles nearly snorted but held it in the best he could. “That’s a true understatement. Naught suits the old chieftain these days. He’s missing his Ailis.”

Sloan could only hope he’d find someone he’d miss as much as his father missed his mother. He’d had one attempt to marry, and it had gone terribly wrong. So wrong that he feared to even attempt a betrothal again, which made him wonder if he’d dared to approach Lennox about Eva. She’d seemed fine with him. Perhaps she would accept him after dealing with the cruel earl. He’d have to consider his timing. If so, he’d return to MacVey land and have a chat with Lennox about Eva.

Logan said nothing, probably thinking of his own wife, who he’d nearly lost recently. Doiron had saved her life, but not her leg. It had been difficult for them both to see the woman in that shape. But she was still with him.

“How does Gwyneth fare?” Sloan asked.

“Better now that she’s around her family. Eli is here, and our daughter Brigid is on her way. She and a few others have created a contraption to help Gwynie walk. Our niece Jennet is quite crafty, and her husband, Ethan, is just like her. I pray it works.”

They made it inside the solar and Sloan unlocked a cabinet, pulling out two goblets and his best brew, setting the three vessels on his desk. “None for you, Miles?”

“Nay, I’ll pass on the brew, Chief.”

Miles always did. As his second, he preferred to keep a level head during the day. He would only imbibe during the few big celebrations in the keep, something they didn’t do often enough. He should change that, especially now that it had been over a year since Sloan’s mother had passed on.

Sloan poured a draft and handed the goblet to Logan, who swirled it, sniffed it, and smiled before tasting it, rolling the amber liquid over his tongue to savor its taste. “A fine batch, Rankin. I thank you for it.”

“I’ll send some home with you.”

“I’d be pleased to accept.” Logan nodded, eased into a nearby chair, and took another sip.

“What news have you?”

Logan swallowed his brew and said, “You’re first.”

Sloan set his drink down, sat in his chair, and moved closer to the old warrior. “What?”

“The idiot who thinks he is going to overtake the entire Isle of Mull has decided to make his move, and he’s chosen your clan to be first. Someone has advised him that your clan will be an easy takeover. All he has to do is kill you and your brother and the rest will fold and pledge allegiance to him. What say you?”

“The bastard is full of shite if he thinks he can battle us that easily. Who the hell is this leech?”

“I don’t know who he is. He doesn’t reveal his name or where he is established. I discovered him … I’d prefer not to give my sources away. I thought I’d give you warning.”

“Did he say when?”

“Nay, he’s waiting for the Grant group to leave is my best guess. Connor Grant is planning to leave in a couple of days, and he’ll probably take most of his guards with him, though Dyna will ask for some to stay. Then I guess he’ll make his move. He’s gathered three score men. How many have you?”

“Only a score and a half.” Sloan sighed, afraid he’d failed in this endeavor, though there was little history of battles on the isle of late, so he’d not worried until all the bairn stealing had started. “Miles has been training our men harder in the lists after all the foolish kidnapping. We’ve gained a few new ones. Have you any other suggestions?”

Miles said, “I’m open to any advice. Ingelram is working with them now.” Ingelram was one of their most loyal guards and also one of the strongest swordsmen.

“Derric Corbett is willing to trade sword-skill training for some fine brew. They didn’t bring any barrels with him, and with Connor and the others, what little they brought has gone fast. What say you to some extra training? He’s a mighty fine swordsman, and any guard trained by Grant men says he’s one of the best.”

Sloan decided to push the old warrior’s loyalty and leaned back in his chair. “Who is the best? Ramsay guards or Grant? And who has the best archers?”

Logan’s eyes narrowed and a slight smile curved his face. “Always a man of wisdom, are you not, Rankin?”

“I try my best.” He waited, hands folded in his lap, for Ramsay’s answer.

“All right. I’ll be honest. Dyna is a fine archer, but the finest are Ramsay archers. My son Gavin has trained Eli to be one of the best. I think she’ll end up overtaking Gwynie’s reputation as the finest in all the land. Dyna is a fine second. But swordsmen? Since my age has done its job on my shoulders, I am no longer the finest. I’d give it to Connor and Alasdair, but Broc is coming up close. The man works hard. Trust me that Derric has been trained hard by his wife’s father. Connor pushes him hard, and it shows. Your men would be fortunate to learn from him.”

“And Maitland? Where does he fit in since he’s the chieftain?”

“He and Dyna share it. You don’t wish to meet Maitland on the field either. Now that he has a lad to defend, he’s been working harder than anyone I know. Alasdair has been training him.”

“Alasdair and Broc are returning with Connor?”

“Broc will be staying. Not sure about Alasdair yet. He may bring his wife and two bairns here.”

Miles shook his head.

“What?” Logan asked.

“I don’t know how you keep them all straight, Ramsay.”

Logan said, “You remember who’s on your side in battle. I hope you don’t need to learn the truth of my words.”

Sloan said, “We’ll gladly take Derric’s offer. Should I go to Clan Grantham with you?”

“Nay, I’ll send him your way.”

Logan stood and stepped out of the solar at the same time that the door to the keep opened, Dermot entering.

“I want to hear the news from you, Ramsay. One old chieftain to another.”

“I’ve never been a chieftain. I was my brother’s second.”

“They say you were a spy for King Alexander and for King Robert. ’Struth?’”

Logan gave a slow nod to the man.

“Da,” Sloan said. “Let the man take his leave.”

Logan moved over to the door, but Dermot grabbed his arm. “What’s the news? More attacks? More bairns to be stolen? My grandson Rowan still won’t step outside the curtain wall.” Rowan had been one of four bairns kidnapped over the summer.

Logan glanced over at Sloan, then back at Dermot. “Keep him inside the walls. And everyone else. There’s a madman who wishes to take over Mull, but he comes by boat. No one knows where he’s from, so be aware.”

Dermot looked at Sloan and said, “I told you!”

Sloan sighed and stepped outside, Logan along with him. “Many thanks to you. I have a flask in the stables I’ll give you. Send Derric when he’s ready. Our men will work with him whenever he arrives.”

He settled with the old warrior and sent him on his way, just as Ingelram approached.

“Did Rinaldo come this way?”

Sloan shook his head. “Why?”

“He disappeared on me again. He was going to work in the lists.”

“I’ll worry about my brother. Go back to the lists.” Sloan knew that Rinaldo was too weak in the head to handle much physical exertion, so he let him do as he wished.

Sometimes they had no idea what he did with his day.