Mairead furrowed her brow, confused by the question. “Nothing more than what you heard. Seamus is from the Faill clan and Art is a MacMhathain.”
Disturbed by what Mairead was implying, Hamish rubbed his chin. He had been at Foinaven for nearly a week and seen at least half a dozen different plaids. He knew several small groups from other clans had joined Foinaven for protection and had assumed they still wore their old tartans because it was a costly—and therefore slow—process to replace them with MacBrieve colors. He was now beginning to think that was a very incorrect assumption. “Why are they not wearing the MacBrieve plaid?” he finally asked.
Mairead turned her head fully this time. Every feature indicated she was puzzled by the question. “Because they are not MacBrieves.”
It was Hamish’s turn to be confused. Twelve years ago, the idea of merging the MacMhathain and MacBrieve clans had seem daunting and his father had thought long and hard about how it should be done. Knowing that unity and loyalty were keys to success, he decided to use Foinaven as the tool to instill them in the clan. At the time, Foinaven had a single stone tower, but the rest was predominantly constructed out of wood. The courtyard was large, but there were relatively few buildings within the castle limits and the main village was located some distance away. Hamish had been young at the time, but as the next leader, he had been very involved in the initial decisions. It had been his idea to gradually move to a stone structure that provided not only significantly more security, but would be something all clansmen could participate in and be proud of. Seeing Foinaven today, even larger and more impressive than his initial vision, Hamish had assumed that is what had transpired.
“And how is that possible if Seamus and Art are pledged to a MacBrieve laird?”
Mairead’s mouth opened, still baffled, before forming a small O as understanding dawned on her. “Robert is not the laird of everyone who lives at Foinaven. He is more of a . . . caretaker I guess.”
Hamish blinked. What Mairead was saying was almost incomprehensible. It was certainly unacceptable.
“I thought you knew. I mean you know that Robert does not sleep in the solar,” Mairead continued. “He refused to move in there when your father passed away as it symbolized a level of authority he refused to accept.”
Hamish pursed his lips. “So what you are saying is there is in fact no MacBrieve laird.”
Mairead bit her bottom lip and shook her head. “Not exactly. He is laird of the MacBrieve clan, just not of the others.”
“And just how many ‘others’ are there?”
Mairead gave a slight tug on her reins to keep her horse next to Hamish’s. “As of last year, there are families from six other clans. Mhic Eain, Ceiteach, Faill, Shyn, Larg, Munro, and of course MacBrieve and MacMhathain. Many relocated here because there was farmland available where there wasn’t any within their clan’s territory. One group came to escape the tyranny of their laird. Others are here because their laird died and their clan had grown too small to protect itself on its own.”
Hamish was dumbfounded by what Mairead was saying. So many questions were coming to him at once he was not sure just what to ask first. So he started with her last—and probably most shocking—statement. “Am I to understand that the MacMhathains never merged with the MacBrieves?”
Mairead took in a deep breath and pulled the edges of her fur blanket closer together. “I am not sure I am the best to answer. I was young so I may not know all the reasons—”
“I suspect you understand them well enough,” Hamish said tersely, cutting her off.
Mairead shrugged, but the gesture was hidden under the fur blanket. “I will tell you what I know, which is not much, but some of it does involve you.”
Hamish straightened his back defensively.
“When you left, your father at first expected you to return and marry my sister as planned. I know he hoped for it for a long time. By the time he agreed to Selah and Robert’s union and what that meant, the two clans had lived together under a single leadership for three years.”
Hamish arched his left brow. “Three years?” He had no idea that his father had kept Robert and Selah apart.
“Aye,” Mairead answered. “He felt that when my father died, he had intended you to be laird, not just the man who married Selah.”
His father was in a way correct. It was all how one interpreted Menzies MacMhathain’s dying request. He had asked him to marry Selah, thereby uniting the MacBrieve and MacMhathain clan. He had then asked Hamish if he would be their laird and ensure both clans’ future and well-being. In Hamish’s mind, being married to Selah was a requirement to being laird and uniting the two clans. Without it, many MacMhathains would question his loyalty and even his right to preside over Foinaven. The MacBrieves may have been the more powerful of the two clans army-wise, but the castle had been part of Menzies MacMhathain’s legacy. It was important a MacMhathain helped continue to oversee it.
But it seemed his father had felt differently. If Hamish had returned when his father was alive, would he have made him laird despite Menzies MacMhathain’s intentions?
Greeted only by silence, Mairead assumed he wanted her to continue. “I do remember your father and brother fighting about it once. He wanted Robert to complete the agreement and take the title and unite the clans. Robert believed they were already united and that forcing any MacMhathain to become a MacBrieve would jeopardize their loyalty. After your father died and Robert took his place as leader, no one questioned Robert’s authority. Things were prosperous at the time and no one wanted to change that. The English were attacking castles in the Lowlands and along Scotland’s waist and all wanted to avoid the strife—as well as attention—a clan war might bring. It was not long before a handful of small clans came to Foinaven for security and were welcomed with no expectations in return. In time, more came and now we live peacefully for each other’s mutual benefit.”
Hamish could tell by Mairead’s sarcastic tone at the very end that she disliked his brother’s community concept, but probably not for the reasons he did. “You disagree?”
“There are advantages,” she conceded. “Food is one and some of the clans specialize in certain skills that support trade.”
“But you also recognize the disadvantages.”
Mairead looked ahead, but tightened her grip on the saddle. “Your brother’s philosophy is one that all should aspire to—peace. But he believes it can be achieved at all costs. Robert wants people to stay because of a sense of community. In his and Selah’s minds, the approach has worked. However, neither will acknowledge the barriers it has erected.”
Hamish knew that Robert was right in thinking that forcing people to join another clan would cause strife and resentment. But temporarily avoiding discomfort and some pain did not create loyalty. It only postponed it, and worse, it made the pain and hardship to be endured later much greater.
Robert did not understand that while fidelity and loyalty may look the same, it was not. Hamish had seen too many battles, too much bloodshed, and too many lives lost to pretend otherwise. He suspected by Mairead’s posture that even without his life’s experience, she felt the same. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“The MacBrieves are loyal to Foinaven as are the MacMhathains, in part due to Robert and Selah, but also after twelve years, many of them have intermarried, making the bond between our clans very strong. With the others it is not the same. Most are too new in the area to have deep roots. They are here because they believe the English won’t venture this far north if war should come again and though at times, life here is difficult due to the weather, there is also plenty of land to farm and there is easy access to fish in the sea.”
“And an inordinately lenient leader who has an unheard of accommodating attitude,” Hamish growled.
Mairead bit her bottom lip. She agreed with Hamish, but she had gotten to know these people and did not like the idea of forcing them to leave just because they were not of their clan. �
�Most of them are good and hardworking, needing the opportunities that Robert and Selah have given them; however, it is also true that they reap the benefits of a large community and clan.”
“But fail to contribute to Foinaven’s and therefore their protection,” Hamish added. “Robert will never acknowledge that a man’s ultimate loyalty is to himself and his family. It certainly is not to a clan he doesn’t claim.”
“Ulrick has made it worse.” Mairead pressed her lips together until it hurt to keep from saying more. She felt guilty saying anything that went against her sister, but it was also nice being able to vocalize her true opinion about her brother-in-law’s approach to leading a clan. And Hamish was probably the one and only person with whom she could ever do so. “Outside of a few of us—and that includes both MacBrieves and MacMhathains—no one is loyal to Foinaven. Ulrick has made things too distasteful and they know it will become worse if he takes over. He will declare himself laird and I suspect soon after many will leave.”
Hamish took a deep breath and exhaled, relieved to hear of Mairead’s disapproval. If she had supported Robert’s ways, it would have detrimentally affected his ability to relate and talk with her. Though in the end, it would not matter as he intended to sever his relationships with Foinaven and its people. However, knowing that they thought alike on such matters gave him indescribable comfort. He also knew that on some level this meant his feelings for Mairead were growing.
“I doubt Robert knows how fortunate he has been,” Hamish said more to himself.
If Foinaven had not been located so far north or if it had been in an area of any strategic value, the façade of being a large, united clan would have been discovered long ago. It was amazing no one before Ulrick had attempted to seize control. And the fact that Selah actually supported Robert sent a chill down Hamish’s spine.
Once again, Hamish found himself to be relieved that Selah had rejected him. They would have been miserable together. The idea of creating a utopia-like society was a wonderful one, but it was unattainable. Every feeling human being alive at one time or another wished life worked that way. But it simply did not. Men’s baser desires would eventually always come before the good of the community if their own happiness was not in some way tied to the greater good.
“I hope your plan with all of its options can also make Robert and Selah see reason.”
“I have no desire to change Robert,” Hamish said with a grimace. “And if my father could not convince Robert to join the clans under the MacBrieve name, I certainly do not possess the power.”
Hamish was right. His father had tried for years and without success. Even she had once endeavored to get Selah and Robert to consider the advantages of uniting all the clans. But it had been a waste of time and energy.
Still, Mairead had wanted to argue that it was years later and Hamish’s input might be welcome after being gone so long, but she knew it be pointless. Besides, there was no time to state her case. They had finally arrived.
“We’re here,” Mairead said, pointing to a small cottage up ahead.
* * *
Hamish took a bite, closed his eyes, and savored the moment. “Never let your wife cook for a McTiernay, Davros. They’ll charm her right out of your arms and into one of their kitchens.”
Jeán tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Wrinkles were apparent around her eyes, but she was still a striking woman. Her once-dark auburn hair was now a glorious blend of faded copper and rosy-blond, accented by beautiful silvery-white streaks near her temples. And her large brown eyes were beaming from Hamish’s compliment. “I just might run away with you, if you keep flattering me so.”
Hamish opened his eyes, patted his stomach, and watched her melt upon seeing his dimples. His grin grew. Finally! A woman who responded to his smile like he expected. “Then I shall sing your praises until you are mine.”
Davros, completely unfazed by all the flattery being exchanged, pushed his empty plate forward and rested his elbows on the table. “It was another fine meal, mo muirnín. And you, young man,” he said, pointing at Hamish, “may regret those words. I might just hand her over to you the next time she’s in a mood.”
Jeán rolled her eyes, not in the least worried by her husband’s threat. “Did you notice that he only dares to make such comments after he’s eaten?”
“Aye,” Davros said proudly. “That’s because you married yourself a smart man.”
Mairead laughed out loud. She always enjoyed visiting Davros and Jeán. They expressed their love so differently than Robert and Selah, and yet she had no doubt that their bond was just as strong.
They were Munros and had traveled with a handful of families that had come to settle near Foinaven and make a fresh start after their son George was killed at the Battle of Bannockburn. That had been less than three years ago, but to Mairead it seemed like she had known the couple for much longer.
Growing up without parents had been difficult and Selah had done her best. When Mairead was young, Selah had been all things wonderful to her. But as she grew older and aspects of their personalities became more disparate, it had been Jeán and Davros who had helped her to understand Selah’s viewpoint without losing her own. In many ways, they had become family. She was like the daughter they always wanted, but never had, and Mairead suspected they were angels her parents had sent to Earth to help guide her in their absence.
Davros pointed to Mairead but looked at Hamish. “Our Mairead has recently seemed to become quite interested in marriage. How about you?”
Out of the corner of his eye, Hamish saw Mairead blush. He did not think it possible someone could turn that red that fast. “I’ve always been interested in marriage, but alas whenever I thought I might have found the right woman, a McTiernay was around to steal her heart first.”
Jeán narrowed her eyes skeptically. “From what I understand there are only seven McTiernay brothers and only five of them are married. So I find it hard to believe that they are the sole reason you are not married.”
Hamish grinned. It was no surprise that Mairead liked the couple so much. He did too. Jeán’s wit throughout the meal proved she was a highly intelligent woman and Hamish suspected that like Mairead, she could be quite tenacious on certain subjects. His gut said marriage was one of them and the fastest way to close the topic was with honesty. “McTiernays may not be the only reason, but women do seem to gravitate into their arms,” he agreed. “And I did come close and was nearly married last year. I was almost ensnared by a stunning creature named Wyenda, whose beauty was just on the outside. So you see? Love has forsaken me and now my heart is so battered and bruised, I no longer think I’m capable of the emotion.” His tone was sincere, with an intentional whiff of melancholy. He hoped it would enlist Jeán’s sympathy and motivate her to move on to less personal subjects.
Mairead tried to catch Hamish’s eyes, but he refused to look her way. She could not believe that Davros and Jeán were pursuing this line of questions. Obviously, Davros had not forgotten that she had been all dressed up on market day and had told Jeán what Mairead had been attempting. The couple knew her position on marriage— that she did not want it. They were also well aware that even if she was inclined to be married, there was no one who had even made her heart stutter, let alone succumb to something like love. But by the way Davros and Jeán were looking at Hamish, they thought that had changed.
Jeán stood up and patted Hamish’s hand. “Well, the past dictates the future only if you don’t learn from it. Who knows? Maybe you will find a nice young lass here.” Her hand just casually waved in Mairead’s direction. “And even better, there are no McTiernays about to interfere.”
Mairead groaned and covered her face with her hands. “Jeán, Hamish is here to deal with Ulrick, not to be set up by you two.”
“Aye, and no smart woman would ever want to tie herself to me.” Hamish hoped his tone conveyed just the right note of finality to it. He was ready to change the direction of the conversati
on. There was a reason he was here, and it had nothing to do with Mairead, marriage, or being entrapped by love. “As far as dealing with Ulrick, Mairead’s been very helpful about introducing me to Foinaven’s staff and while they are friendly, they seemed to be incredibly tight-lipped about their opinion of their commander.”
Davros leaned back in his chair and entwined his fingers behind his head. “Not surprised. They probably should be quiet. More than one has sought his favor by conveying what they overheard or saw. I wouldn’t be surprised if Ulrick has convinced a few to look out for his interests while he was away.”
Hamish nodded. “I’ve already identified a few servants who fit that description.”
Mairead frowned. She was not surprised that Ulrick had spies, but she did not think it possible to determine who they were. “What are their names?”
“Probably the ones you already suspect, but there were not as many as I would have thought.”
With a snort, Davros unlinked his hands and tapped a finger on the table. “That’s because most are smart enough to realize that such information comes at a price. It brings them to Ulrick’s attention and afterward he is not understanding if you have nothing new to provide.”
Hamish’s brows furrowed. “That explains why I’m having a difficult time discovering who the moles are within the guard left behind than I did among the staff.”
Mairead was confused. If Hamish had easily identified the spies within the castle’s staff, why could he not do the same in the guard? “I don’t understand.”
“Think about it,” Davros said before Hamish could answer. “All those who supported Ulrick left with him. The guards who remained he deemed expendable if he faced opposition upon his return.”
“Still,” Hamish said, raking his hand through his hair. “I doubt Ulrick would have left without at least one person behind to inform him on what happened during his absence.”
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