A Fierce Archer (Clan Ross Book 6) by Hildie McQueen (best story books to read .TXT) 📗

a glance toward him. When she did, he did not break eye contact. Instead, he pinned her with a dismissive arched brow before looking away, effectively dismissing her.

If possible, Catriona was more beautiful than before. She seemed to have blossomed there in the new environment. Despite everything, he hoped for her full recovery and a future like that of most women.

So far, he’d not seen Broden about. Surely he and Catriona had to be married by now. He’d been gone half a year and, in that time, many things must have occurred.

The room went silent as Malcolm Ross stood to his full height. The young laird scanned the room, his direct gaze landing on several people.

“Our sincerest welcome to Laird and Lady McLeod, who grace us with their presence.” The people present murmured their welcomes.

Malcolm waited for the room to quiet and spoke again. “It is with great pride that I present to ye a new laird. My cousin, Ewan, will be laird over the region that borders Clan Macdonell lands. I present Laird Ewan Gerard Ross, Laird of Tuath Avon.”

“North River.” His new keep was named after the direction of it from Ross Keep.

Ewan stood and held up his tankard. If he was to be laird, it was time for a change of how he acted. From now on, the easy-going man who sought comradery with every man he came in contact with was gone.

“I am grateful to my cousin for this honor. He has agreed to allow fifty warriors to go with me. Upon my return from Uist, I will begin construction of Tuath Avon.”

The room erupted with applause and shouts from the guardsmen. Ewan had never felt so much pride. Thankfully, before any emotions crept up, Malcolm once again spoke.

“Those of ye that wish to go with the new laird, come to me with yer requests.”

As per usual, the feast was beyond reproach. Every platter overspilled with flavorful herb-encrusted meats, organs in broth and plump bright colored vegetables.

A band of traveling bards entered through the doors and began walking between tables, singing and strumming on string instruments.

Ewan lifted his tankard along with his cousins, each of them toasting to his good fortune and wishing him well. None showed any sign of ill-will, which boded well. He’d wondered about Kieran, the third born, who would have benefitted from his own lairdship.

“Did ye not consider asking for the land?” Ewan asked his cousin whose brows joined as he considered how to reply.

“My brothers and I each have huge responsibilities here. Tristan is in charge of making sure that our army is always trained and ready to defend our lands and keep. I not only help Naill lead the hundreds of archers, but I’m also responsible for seeing to the security of our northern borders. I considered building a keep there, but my wife, Elspeth and Merida threatened to kill me in my sleep.” A twitch at the corners of his lips was the closest Kieran ever came to smiling.

Ewan looked to the right where their cousin, Ruari, and other warriors sat. “What about Ruari?”

“He has no desire to be a laird. He is content with horse breeding and such.”

There was no one else. As much as he suspected any of the men would have accepted the lairdship and been thankful for it, it was he who was in the best position to accept.

“I will forever be grateful,” he finally said. “Yer brother has treated me much better than my own in Uist.”

“We are all family,” Kieran replied and straightened as a young man, escorted by two guards, approached.

“A scout, Laird,” one of the guards said.

Malcolm met the young man’s gaze. “What is it?”

“Laird and Lady Munro will arrive one day hence.”

“Of course,” Malcolm replied without inflection. He then motioned the guard closer. “See that he is fed and given a place to sleep. Inform Lady Gisela of who comes to visit.”

“Yes, Laird.”

“The keep will be quite full,” Kieran said with a displeased expression. “Perhaps it is time that I go to the north post for a spell.”

“I leave that decision up to ye, Brother,” Malcolm replied.

There were so many things that Malcolm had to handle on a daily basis. This just showed how understandable it was to keep his brothers close. The young laird was lucky to have two men he could trust without question.

Once the meal was over, Ewan had no desire to be around people, so he went to the stables to check on Ban, his horse.

Finding the horse was easy, it’s silver tone visible in the darkness. He’d often been kidded by others that with the horse, he was a riding target. Most of the time, Ban wore a dark covering, mostly at night when traveling near enemy lands.

Despite knowing it was unwise to ride a steed of light coloring, he’d raised the animal since its birth and was attached to it. Ban was a warhorse through and through. Ban rarely showed fear and was eager to rush forth at the first sounds of battle.

“Is there anything ye require?” A lad appeared and looked up at Ewan. “I brushed him down and fed him well.”

“No, I come just to be with him for a moment. Go on and find yer bed.”

Ewan led Ban out of the stall and began to check the horse’s legs. They’d ridden through a patch of thorny bushes and the horse’s legs had been cut in several places.

Poultice had been administered and one of the legs was wrapped. Thankfully, the stable master, under Ruari’s tutelage, was proficient in tending wounds.

Satisfied that Ban was well taken care of, he led the animal back to its stall, produced a carrot and fed it to the horse.

Music and laughter wafted from the house out to the courtyard and