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

“What an idiot,” he mumbled. After pushing the window frame and finding it nailed shut, he took a chair and broke the glass. Leaning out, he waved to his brothers.

Duncan saw him first and waved back.

The guards outside the chamber door kicked it open and burst into the room, swords drawn. Turning from the window, Darach gave them a droll look.

“Do ye bring me something to break my fast?” he asked, looking at the broken dishes from the night before. “Some ale, perhaps.”

A guard neared but didn’t attack. “My laird requests yer presence. Immediately.”

“Is that so?”

“Come with us.”

He took his time walking to the door and then looked at the guards who stood in the corridor until they parted and allowed him to walk past.

There were groups of people sheltered in the great hall. Women with children huddled together in groups, sheltering from the possibility of an attack.

A small boy rushed up to him and spit at his feet, then ran away screaming. Darach looked to the mother, whose eyes widened. “He will be a great warrior one day.”

The woman’s look of surprise was replaced with pride. She nodded.

“Continue on. My laird is outside,” a guard barked but did not touch him. Interesting how an army outside one’s gates changes things.

They continued until out in the courtyard. “Yer horse is saddled and ready,” one guard said in a flat tone.

“What about my men?”

“They await ye outside the gate.”

Laird Uisdein flanked by two men waited, his flat gaze meeting his. He gave a nod, as greeting. Darach didn’t respond.

When Darach walked over to the Uisdein, the men beside the laird moved to block him. Although Darach had not met the two who shielded the man, he assumed them to be his sons by their age and similar hair color.

“I have no sword, nor do I have the need to hurt him,” he told the two.

He pinned the laird with a straight look. “Although, I must admit to the urge to punch ye in the face.”

Uisdein pushed past his sons. “We should talk. There has been a misunderstanding on my part, I am sure. Perhaps the agreement between yer father and I can be reassessed.”

“There will not be an agreement between us to do anything against my wife’s clan.”

“Once a pact is made, between lairds, it should be adhered to. Otherwise…”

Before anyone could stop him, Darach launched at the man, grabbing him by the tunic and pulling him close. When the sons tried to interfere, the Uisdein gave them a look, and they stood back.

“Listen to me well,” Darach said, his face a scant breath between them. “I do not wish to discuss anything further with ye. Know that by taking me against my will, we are now enemies. One misstep and I will not hesitate to release my army against ye.”

The man’s nose flared. “Ye came so that we could talk.”

“I did, but now there will be no talking between us. Ye are a fool.” Darach pushed the man away and stalked to his horse. The Uisdein and his sons rushed to do the same.

The laird came alongside, his face red with fury. However, unless he wished to insult his brothers, it was customary for him to ride out in a show of goodwill.

When the Uisdein motioned for it, the guards opened the gates, and together as a group, they rode through them and stopped.

Darach’s chest swelled with pride at seeing his clan’s men, prepared to fight for his freedom.

The Uisdein’s gaze narrowed at Darach. “We do not fear ye.”

“Ye should,” Darach motioned out to where his army was. “That is not half of them.”

The Uisdein’s eyes widened just a bit before he managed to rein in his reaction. The stubborn idiot huffed and did not reply.

“Perhaps we can meet at another time and talk,” one of the men beside the laird suggested.

Darach met his gaze. “I have no idea who ye are. Yer laird did not extend the courtesy even now to introduce ye, so ye must be of little importance.” The younger man’s jaw tightened, but he remained silent.

“My stance does not change,” Darach continued. “I do not consider ye allies, yer clan cannot depend on Clan Ross for any support.”

The Uisdein men exchanged looks and the laird looked to him. “This is not over young laird. Ye will learn sooner or later that this is a game of power. Those who are clever enough to gain it, in the end, will win.”

“It is beliefs like yers that bring death and destruction to our people. In the end, what price do ye pay for gaining personal power? Death, deprivation, and people who hate and fear ye. Is that the kind price ye wish to pay?”

Without waiting for a reply, Darach urged his mount forward to where the men who’d come with him waited.

“Let us go,” he called out to them, and together, he and his men, who looked as tired as he felt, then rode to where his brothers awaited.

“Brother,” Duncan said taking him in. The others remained silent; however, it was easy to tell they were glad to see him as each one took a moment to look him over before seeming satisfied he was not injured too badly.

“We should attack and burn the keep to the ground,” Stuart said between clenched teeth.

“I agree,” Darach replied. “However, we will not.”

His brothers waited for his orders as to what they would do next. “We will not attack, despite the fact I do not think this is over. The man is hungry for power at any cost.”

“Perhaps a good lesson would quell it a bit?” Gideon said, glaring toward the keep.

“I may regret this, but no. We will wait.”

Gideon, Stuart, and Ewan turned their horses around and began shouting out orders for retreat. The flanks of men parted to allow Darach and Duncan to ride through to the front. Only once they were safely protected by the men behind them, would the warriors follow.

Duncan grunted. “What reason did he