Page 29 of The Cruel Highlander’s Healer (Highlanders’ Feisty Brides #1)

CHAPTER TWO

W hat a drab morning. Laird Elias McAllister was soaked to the bone, but it was worth it just to be able to get out of the castle for a bit and enjoy some fresh air. Riding was the only time he truly felt himself. It was just him and his stallion, galloping across the countryside, with the wind blowing through his hair, the cold air reddening his cheeks.

But he had to get back. There was a council meeting, and if he was late, the elders would have his arse.

Elias muttered a curse under his breath and headed back to McAllister Castle. Since he’d ridden out to the peninsula, he rode around the lake and up the winding road that led to his home.

A stable boy came out and took his horse’s reins, leading the stallion to the stables, where he would receive a rubdown and maybe an apple.

Elias entered the castle and climbed up the stairs. Two doors stood at the back of the first floor. He headed to the one on the right, which led to the council chambers. A large table sat in the middle of the chamber, and the five councilmen there turned to stare at him as he entered.

“I’m nae late,” he grumbled as he took his seat at the opposite end of the table from where Fergus, the elder in charge, sat.

“Aye, well, ‘tis best we get on with the meetin’,” Angus, the second eldest of the members, said.

Elias leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his broad chest. For the most part, he didn’t pay much attention to the conversation going on. It was usually the same thing—discussing the fields and crops, when they should start planting again, and so on.

As if to prove his point, Athol, the elder who oversaw the crops, said, “Are ye listenin’, Me Laird? I said we should clear a section of the far east corner to grow some wheat. What we have now barely covers the needs of the castle folk.”

Elias tugged on his short dark beard. “What do ye have to say, Brodie?”

Brodie was in charge of the castle books. He kept a close eye on the coffers and was the first to object to spending money needlessly. For him, just about everything was needless. Elias had never met a man more stingy with coin, and that was saying something for a Scot.

Brodie nodded slowly. “Aye. I hate to spend the coin, but I agree. We need a larger crop, especially in case of a harsh winter.”

Elias waved his hand impatiently. “Then do it.”

Brodie and Athol nodded, and the talk turned to just how much of the field should be used for the wheat, where they would get the seeds, and how they would get water to the field.

Elias’s mind wandered. He thought about a similar conversation that his father and mother had years ago. At that time, his mother had wanted to turn a section underneath their bedchamber window into a flower garden. His father had been against it, but his mother had insisted. She’d said the castle could use more beauty. In the end, his father gave in to her request.

Elias knew his parents were lucky. Most couples never developed that kind of deep love. He also knew he was not destined to follow in his parents’ footsteps. There was no woman who could see past the scar on his face and look inside to see the man he was. He wasn’t bitter about it, though. He was resigned.

“Where is yer mind, Me Laird?”

Elias blinked, shoving the thoughts to the back of his mind. Fergus was staring at him with a disapproving frown.

The old man was the head of the council and very protective of Elias and the clan. As he waited for Elias to respond, he tugged on his gray hair, which he always kept pulled back from his face.

“Me mind isnae here, old Fergus,” Elias said, absently wondering for the millionth time just how old the man was.

No one knew. Or if they did, they hadn’t revealed it.

“‘Tis obvious.” Fergus scowled reproachfully.

“What tedious question did I miss this time?” Elias asked.

Fergus pursed his lips in annoyance. “What ye dismiss as tedious is of great importance to the rest of us.”

He paused a bit dramatically, in Elias’s opinion.

“Well?” Elias prompted after a minute had gone by and no one said anything.

“‘Tis yer lack of a wife,” Callum, who had yet to say anything, spoke up.

Callum was an old warrior chief, with long hair and a short-cropped beard. His black eyes met Elias’s squarely, but there was also a touch of discomfort in them.

He was better suited to talking about battle strategy and weapons, so he must have been very annoyed to have brought up Elias’s unmarried state.

“Why must ye always bring that up? There are more important things to discuss than whether I have a wife underfoot.”

The five elders stared at Elias as if he had lost his mind.

“Ye dinnae mean that,” Brodie finally said. “A wife will fill the coffers with her dowry.”

“She will have her guards to add to our ranks,” Callum added.

“Combining our crops will surely help support our people through the tough winters,” Athol argued.

With each reason why getting married was so important, Elias grew more and more angry.

“And ye?” he asked, turning his gaze to Fergus. “What is yer reason for me havin’ a wife?”

Fergus stared at Elias, his expression flat and unchanging. “Ye are of age, Me Laird. Ye need to start a family so that Clan McAllister will have an heir.”

Elias was enraged. He didn’t like people getting into his business, especially when it concerned his marital status. He banged his large fist on the wooden table. The force of it was so strong that the tankards sitting in front of the others rattled. Callum reached out and picked his tankard up from the table before any of his ale could spill.

“I dinnae need to find a wife,” Elias thundered. “Aside from me parents, marriage doesnae seem to work out for most couples. Why should I shackle meself to a woman who will likely be unhappy and make the rest of us miserable?”

“‘Tis the way of things, Me Laird,” Brodie said slowly as if trying to explain the concept to a child.

“Ye have a duty—” Athol began, but Elias cut him off.

“Tell me, what woman would want to be with me?” He ran a finger from his left eye down to his chin, over the scar that carved a path in his face.

The council members had the good sense to blanch and briefly look away. All except Fergus.

Elias should have known that Fergus would not back down. The old man wasn’t afraid of anything.

“There are uglier men than ye, Me Laird. Plenty of women would be honored to be yer wife?—”

“So they can spend me coin!” Elias snapped.

“Mayhap,” Fergus said with a nod. “But that doesnae matter. What does is that ye are two-and-thirty now. ‘Tis time ye do yer duty and take a wife.”

Elias opened his mouth to argue, but Fergus raised his voice and continued, “If ye dinnae, then we, as a council, are duty-bound to choose one for ye.”

Elias’s eyes narrowed dangerously. Logically, he knew this was the way things were done. He’d just never expected it to happen to him. He’d thought the council knew of his determination to remain unmarried. He had no desire to continue his line. Not after what his brother had done—killing their parents just to become Laird.

He didn’t know whether it was bad blood in the family or just that his brother had somehow become unhinged. But he had not wanted to risk a child of his inheriting Aidan’s cruelty.

“Ye are serious?” he said, looking from one pair of elderly eyes to another.

All five men nodded, their expressions not showing even an ounce of hesitation. They were bound and determined to see him wed, no matter his thoughts about it.

“How long do I have before ye all truss me up and throw a bride at me?” Elias asked defiantly.

The men looked at each other. It was obvious by their confused expressions that they hadn’t thought that far ahead. Their goal had just been to convince Elias to take a wife, and they hadn’t thought beyond it.

“A year? A month? A week?” Elias pressed. “And should I pick any lady—mayhap the next one I see? Does she have to be a noble? Do I need yer approval first?”

He wasn’t asking for permission, though. He’d thrown those questions sarcastically, showing the council just how much he opposed their newest orders.

“A month should be sufficient,” Fergus said with a nod. “That should give ye enough time to find a lady and woo her.”

Elias clenched his jaw. Once the old ones had their minds made up, there was no changing them. Still, that didn’t mean he would go easily to the slaughter—as he tended to think of marriage.

However, having someone around to assist in the boring tasks he hated doing, such as overseeing the maids, might be worth it.

He rubbed a hand down his short beard, contemplating how his life might change with a wife.

A knock sounded at the door, drawing everyone’s attention.

“Enter,” Elias ordered.

A young maid timidly stepped inside. Her eyes darted around the table, then landed on Elias. He scowled, even though he was used to maids looking at him with horror. Not just because of the scar running down his face. He was aware that people referred to him as ‘the Beastly Laird,’ presumably because of his foul temper.

But he didn’t mind. Not really. It kept people wary of him, which meant he wasn’t constantly pestered unless there was something important to relay. For this young maid to brave the council chambers, her message must be important.

“Out with it,” Elias said after a minute, when she still didn’t respond.

The maid raised wide green eyes and then quickly lowered them again, her cheeks turning pink.

“Excuse me for interruptin’,” she said. Her voice cracked, so she took a few seconds to clear her throat. “There’s a lady at the gates askin’ for an audience with ye, Me Laird.”

Elias’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Did she say what she wanted?”

The maid shook her head. “Nay. Just that her message was for the Laird and only him.”

“Send her escort in so they can get food and drink,” Fergus ordered gently.

The maid looked up and met his gaze. Her eyes didn’t shy away from the old man like they did with Elias.

“She doesnae have an escort. She came alone.”

Shocked gasps filled the room. It was practically unheard of for a woman to travel alone, without a guard or escort.

Elias smirked and glanced at the elders. “I have to go meet this lady.” Although he was smiling, his tone was full of sarcasm. “After all, she may be me future bride.”