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

if Isobel would visit him again. He’d enticed her with a promise to speak about their upcoming marriage.

It was a trick since he had no desire to call off the wedding. If anything, after kissing the lass, he was more intrigued than ever to find out what lay beneath her colorless dresses. The night rail had been thinner than her dresses, but the shapeless article had not been flattering in the least.

Darach undressed and climbed into bed, too exhausted to remain awake and wait for her.

Slender rays of sunlight from between the window drapes lit on his face and Darach realized he’d slept soundly through the night. Isobel had not come to him, it made him smile to know she had a mind of her own and would not be pressured into something she was not comfortable with.

After a swift knock, Ramey walked in. “Good morning, my laird,” the man said, pulling the curtains open.

“Good morning, Ramey,” Darach replied and yawned loudly.

Ramey went about the morning routine. He lit a fire in the hearth and then went to the doorway and returned with two pails of water. From one steam rose, the other was cold water.

The hot water was poured into a wide basin, the cold into a pitcher. Then Ramey placed folded cloths next to the pitcher.

Once that was done, he went to the wardrobe, took out a clean tunic and breeches, which he placed on the trunk on the end of the bed.

He returned to the door and brought in Darach’s newly brushed boots and placed them at the foot of the trunk.

Darach sat up on the bed and stared into the flickering fire. The flames began to grow stronger as he considered what lay ahead.

“The festival begins at midday, Laird,” Ramey said as he poked the fire with a long iron. He slid a hopeful look toward Darach.

“Ye do not have any other duties today. And do not come to see about me in the morning.”

Ramey’s eyes went wide, his lips curving into a wide grin. “Thank ye, the wife will be glad to know.”

Once his valet left, Darach took his time getting out of bed. He was growing lazy, too many days not up until after sunrise.

He washed up and dressed and then went to find a quick meal before ensconcing himself in his study. The quicker he got in there, the more he could accomplish before he was forced out to attend the festivities.

“My laird, what can I serve ye,” Greer greeted him as he entered the kitchen. It felt odd for the woman who’d fed him since he was in short pants, to address him as such.

“Just porridge or whatever ye have. I have much to do.” He stopped at noting there was an army of cooks in the room who watched him as he walked past to the smaller room and sat at the table.

If anyone was busy this day, it was Greer and yet, she personally brought him a bowl of boiled oats sweetened with honey along with toasted bread and fresh butter. She leaned over and kissed his forehead. “Eat, lad.”

“Greer?”

The woman stopped and waited.

“How do ye do so much and still manage to make time to make one person feel important?”

“It is not difficult once ye master time. Every instant that passes, do something that ye must. When ye have free time, do not waste it on something that does not matter. Whether time alone on a walk or working like ye do. Every moment should be used properly.”

The woman was so wise, he felt inadequate. That her position was so much lower than his seemed utterly at odds with what should be.

“Thank ye, Greer. One day I will repay ye beyond yer expectations.”

The older woman grinned and shook her head. “That I do not doubt.”

He ate the food. Although simple, the meal was perfect. Once he washed it down with cold ale, he felt ready to face the day.

“Are ye competing?” Gideon asked when he entered the great hall.

“If I compete in the stone put, Ewan will beat me. If I compete in the caber toss, Duncan will win. In archery, Stuart will.” Darach looked to his younger brother smirking and continued, “Perhaps I will do the hammer throw, it could be Gavin Macgregor is not up to the task today.”

“I will win the hammer throw,” Gideon said.

“Then I will participate in that one. I can beat ye, I think.”

Gideon had filled in recently, becoming more muscular, and was as wily as he was strong. “Ye have not been practicing,” he quipped.

Darach blew out a breath and headed to his study. “I have much to do. Sign me up for whatever ye wish. I will win.”

“Dance it is,” Gideon said with a mischievous chuckle.

Stuart, Gideon, Ewan, and Cairn, along with another member of the council joined Darach in his study. The discussion became somewhat animated after Stuart brought up talks with the Uisdein.

“I believe we should wait,” Ewan advised. “The Uisdein is mistrustful of us. Despite sending messengers, he has refused to meet.”

Darach looked to the council members. “Surely one of ye knows what happened between him and my father. There must have been an agreement that the Uisdein believes we have broken.”

“The Uisdein and yer father were never on very good terms, as ye are aware,” Cairn replied. “The only thing they ever discussed was an alliance based on Stuart marrying his eldest daughter.”

Stuart’s face turned hard. “And that was broken without any reason given.”

“I will try again,” Darach said. “Once these festivities and my marriage ceremony are over, I plan to go visit the Uisdein myself.”

The men in the room were silent. By his brothers’ expressions, they did not agree. The councilmen exchanged looks, but no one contradicted him.

He studied Cairn for a long moment. “Cairn, ye went with my father the last time. If there was something discussed, surely ye were included.”

“Yer brother went as well,” Cairn quickly said looking to Stuart. “There