The Lion (Clan Ross of the Hebrides Book 1) - Hildie McQueen (best novels to read in english .TXT) 📗

become overly involved in everything. At the end of the day, he would speak to Stuart and Ewan about Cairn. Something about the man gave him pause.

“He is. However, there are many people here.”

Darach stalked over to the man. “I am yer laird. Ye will refer to me as such.”

“Of course, my laird, I apologize.” Cairn bowed his head. “I am not yet used to it.”

“It has been half a year.” Darach stalked to the same door he’d exited from and grabbed one of the cloths that hung over a line for when guardsmen walked inside after practice.

After dunking a pot into a rain barrel, he leaned forward and poured the water over his head, repeating the process to rinse off his arms. Then he dried off with the cloth.

He stomped the dirt from his boots and walked inside. The entire time Cairn did not leave his side.

There were people in the great hall, but thankfully not as many as the days prior. He went to the high board and lowered into a chair next to Stuart, who listed to a husband and wife complain about someone stealing their cows.

Turning to a pair of young men who waited to speak to him, he motioned them closer. “Our da is missing. We think someone may have killed him,” the distraught young man explained. “We come to ask for help. We need more people to search.”

“Do ye not have neighbors to help ye?” Darach asked astounded that people would not help this family.

The other boy nodded. “Aye, and we have been searching for two days, my laird.”

“I will send a group of guardsmen back with ye,” Darach motioned for a guard to come close.

“My laird, a word,” Cairn said, leaning into his ear.

Darach looked at the man. “What is it?”

“Ye cannot begin the practice of sending guardsmen in search of every drunk husband who decides to spend a day or two away from his home. This is clearly that sort of matter.”

Despite him not liking Cairn, the man was right.

He studied the young men for a moment. “Has yer da ever done something like this before?”

Both shook their heads fervently. “No, my laird. Never,” one replied. “That is why we are so worried.”

The guard waited for instructions with an impassive expression. Darach let out a breath. “Go with four guardsmen and help them search for their father. Just two days.”

Next to him, Cairn bristled but remained quiet.

They spent the rest of the morning and well into the afternoon dealing with the people who’d come for hearings. A picture emerged for Darach.

People had not felt heard and had been ignored for so long, they were hungry not only for food but for leadership.

He spoke to Stuart. “We should plan a festival. Have people come and enjoy a time of celebration.”

“That is a grand idea,” Stuart replied. “Mother and her group will certainly be excited at the prospect.”

“Under no circumstances will a celebration appease the people,” Cairn said, with an aghast expression. “To them, it will be yer showing how much better off this family is than theirs.”

Stuart leaned forward to look around Darach. “Do ye not have a family to tend to? Ye have spent days on end here.”

At the words, Cairn got to his feet and stalked from the room.

“Harsh,” Darach said, glad that his brother had found a way for the man to leave. “He has been rather imposing of late.”

“I am not sure we should trust him,” Stuart replied. “Speaking of not trusting. Where is Gideon?”

Darach searched the room for his youngest brother. “I have not seen him today.”

Narrowing his eyes, he considered that perhaps Gideon was keeping an eye on the women. His younger brother had ensured to sit next to Beatrice Macdonald the last two last meals. Was his brother smitten with the lass?

If so, his mother would not be pleased.

“I’m going to find something to eat,” Darach announced and stood, stretching his arms above his head. “Then I will find Mother and tell her to plan the festivities.”

Stuart took in those that remained in the room and motioned a servant girl forward. “Let cook know to prepare for a midday meal for forty people.”

When Darach entered the kitchen, Greer, the cook, motioned for him to go to the adjoining, small room, where the servants ate. “My laird, what do ye wish to eat?” the woman called out.

“Something simple will do,” he replied, sitting and enjoying the solitude of the space while he watched the people in the kitchen scurry here and there. Some kept watch over boiling pots, while others sliced vegetables, and still others set trenchers on trays and began filling them with lamb stew.

Lilia walked over to him with a tray on which a goblet and trencher were perfectly balanced. “Here ye go, my Laird. Ye must keep yer strength up.”

The woman leaned closer than necessary to place the items before him. “If there is anything else ye wish, do not hesitate to let me know.” Her plump lips pursed, her gaze moving to his mouth.

“Thank ye, Lilia.” Darach patted her bottom just as he caught sight of Isobel walking past in the kitchen.

He wasn’t sure if she’d seen him touch Lilia. “Go now, I need to be alone,” he said to Lilia, who did not hide her disappointment.

Once Lilia left, he began to eat while keeping an eye on the doorway.

Isobel walked past again, this time she hesitated. “May I have a word with ye?” she asked.

“Ye may join me.” He motioned to a chair.

Isobel went to a chair that was farther than the one he’d motioned to. “Will yer lady be returning? What I wish to speak to ye about is private.”

His lady. So, she had seen.

“Greer,” he called out. “Have someone bring Miss Isobel a drink and perhaps some fresh bread.”

“There is no need,” Isobel said. “They are much too busy.”

A cook’s helper hurried in, plopped the items before Isobel and rushed back away.

Darach met Isobel’s gaze. “What is it ye