The Lion (Clan Ross of the Hebrides Book 1) by Hildie McQueen (ereader for android .TXT) 📕

hands curled into fists. “How dare ye? I demand proof of yer accusations. Otherwise, ye must apologize to me.”

Stuart motioned to a chair. “Do ye wish to sit and hear what I have to say?”

The man shook his head and remained standing.

“Very well,” Stuart began. “The farmer ye stabbed did not die. He told us of the meetings ye held with plans to do harm to our family. His is not the only one whose word I got. We were given names of others there and they told the same story.”

“It is because they hate me that those men come against me. I would never do harm to the family to whom I have dedicated most of my life.” Cairn inched toward the doorway. “I refuse to remain in the room with ye right now and continue to hear these false accusations.”

Guards had been alerted to wait for him to exit. Sounds of a scuffle followed by Cairn cursing them until his voice faded.

Darach had instructed that he be taken to the dungeon.

Just days earlier, he’d ensured that men go down and cleaned the cells. What they’d found had been atrocious. Several dead people his father had imprisoned and forgotten about.

The stench had been so unbearable, the men had been split into shifts to clean it, needing a break to regain their sense of smell.

The slim openings for windows had been widened to allow for fresh air and cots were placed in each cell along with a blanket, a chamber pot, and a stool.

No matter the offense, whoever was to spend time down in the dungeon would not sit in their own filth. One meal a day would be given to Cairn, along with a jug of ale.

Two men had been assigned to be wardens. Both with families to feed and in need of work, they’d happily agreed to take on the job.

“What are ye planning to do with him?” Stuart asked. “Cannot keep him down there for long, it will be annoying to have to remember to go down and threaten him daily.”

The others in the room snickered. It was not a humorous matter, but Darach understood the need for it.

“I have someone in the dungeon. I had not considered it when taking over for our father. To be honest, I do not know what to do.”

The doorway darkened, their brother Duncan stooped to enter, despite the doorway being tall enough. It was habit, Darach supposed.

His morose brother met his gaze for a moment. “I apologize for my lateness. The man has been taken to the dungeon then?”

“Aye,” Darach replied. Strange how having his brother here, who was not even a year younger, lifted a heavy weight from his shoulders.

“Unless ye wish to appear weak before the people, ye will have to make an example of him. If ye release him, he will go and seek followers to bring more trouble. I doubt Cairn is a man who will accept being cast out.”

Darach cleared his throat. “Gideon go see about the guard’s training. Stuart, the archers. Ewan, go on patrol with ten men.”

Knowing Darach needed time alone with Duncan, the brothers dispersed.

“What happens in the south, and do not tell me all is well. Ye and Caelan have not been free to come here. If it is something I need to send guardsmen for, let me know.”

“It is the MacNeil; they are sending patrols often. Our few guards have been approached and questioned. They pretend to be friendly, asking about their duties. However, when putting it all together, it is obvious they are up to something.”

Darach sat back. “For whatever reason, the sheepherders started a war with each other. That seems to be taken care of for now. It seems that our father made enemies out of the two clans closest to us.”

“Ye must meet with the MacNeil.”

“I recently visited the Macdonald. I will travel to visit the Uisdein and the MacNeil. I need ye to come here and take my place brother.”

Duncan looked to him for a long moment. “Which will ye visit first?”

“It seems like the Uisdein is the bigger threat at the moment.” Darach gave his brother a questioning look. “Will ye take my place while I am gone?”

His brother had been reclusive for a long time. The night they’d caught their father with Ewan’s first wife, Duncan had taken Ewan’s side. The late laird had secretly thrown Duncan into the dungeon for it. Duncan had been imprisoned before and often suffered night terrors because of it. Their father locking him up was the most horrible of punishments after not having fully recovered from his previous imprisonment. Duncan had remained in the dungeons for a week without food or water, until Darach found out about it and released him one night.

Once free, Duncan had gone to live in the southern portion of the land in their other estate with Caelan. It wasn’t until their father died that Duncan returned, and even then, it was only for short visits.

“I know ye do not like being here. I understand…”

“Ye do not,” Duncan said. “Stuart would be better suited to take yer place.”

Darach huffed. “Duncan, what if something happens to me? Ye are the next in line for lairdship. It is time ye begin to fulfill yer duty to the clan.”

The muscle in Duncan’s jaw flexed as he tried to control his temper. “If it comes to be, which I pray it never does, I will not take lairdship. I never wish to take the place of a man I detested.”

“He is dead. I am not our father. Neither are ye.”

It was no use arguing with Duncan. He was as headstrong as a mule.

“Tell me what ye know about the MacNeil,” Darach said.

Duncan shook his head. “Not now brother, ye have enough of a burden with Cairn’s betrayal. The MacNeil is not an immediate threat. They are at a disadvantage as they have to traverse water to form an attack.”

“True,” Darach said in agreement.

“When do ye go to see