Chapter Ten

Anger coiled like a viper in Ruari's chest. Heat rushed through his veins as he exhaled pushing back the fury as he walked down the corridor toward the great room. He had to control his expression upon entering the room and not give his uncle the satisfaction of a reaction.

His mother waited by the hearth, along with the blond woman, Hannah McNaughton. Both turned to him when he entered. Escorting them to the stands where they would watch the competition was a perfect way to avoid having to speak to his uncle.

Hannah smiled brightly as he approached, and he had to force an amiable expression in return as he offered her his arm. Elvin escorted their mother.

His uncle walked with the McNaughton, talking to the visiting laird. Probably spouting some dribble in hopes of making himself seem powerful. Ruari pitied the MacLachlan, whose expression was cordial. The man, like most neighboring lairds, did not care for his uncle in the least.

They exited to find it was a sunny day, the breeze just cool enough to make it pleasant. There was so much activity that it took longer than usual to walk across the courtyard to the stands. Finally there, his mother and Hannah sat next to the McNaughton, his wife, and a few other visitors.

"Ruari, since ye are competing, I suppose I will take yer seat," his uncle announced loudly.

It was the perfect opportunity to put him in his place, Ruari glanced at his mother. "Is my cousin, Malcolm Ross, attending?"

His mother gave him a curious look, but she was wise enough not to ask him why he'd brought up her powerful nephew. Instead, she searched the crowd. "A messenger has nae returned. I am nae sure."

Archibald looked between Ruari and his mother, too surprised at the comment to hide his alarm.

"Ye can sit there uncle."

He walked away, allowing himself a soft smile of satisfaction. His uncle would be wondering if he'd aligned with Malcolm Ross, the most powerful laird of the region, who commanded an army of over five hundred men.

A messenger had been sent, not to invite Malcolm, but with a request for his support in case Archibald Stewart threatened to take over the lands belonging to his cousin. It was possible the laird would decline, but the reminder of who Ruari's cousin was, would probably be enough to keep his uncle at bay.

The competition kept everyone on the edge of their seats. Every man pushing past pain and exhaustion for the prizes.

After handing the winner a sack of coins in the competitions, he strode to stand on the sidelines as the archers waited for the targets to be set up.

The sun had begun its descent, making it late afternoon, which made it easy on the archer's keen eyes.

A horn blew announcing the beginning of the competition. Across from the stands beside the house, he noted that Robbie had been brought out and sat in a chair, his broken leg lifted onto a stool.

Next to him were Adair and her fair-haired friend. Even from a distance, he noted that Adair's cheeks were very pink. Obviously, someone had placed rouge on them to hide the reddening of his uncle's strike. Tension rolled through him, and he forced it down. The bastard would pay for all he'd caused. Perhaps not right away, but one day. Hopefully soon.

There was a hush in the crowd when Elvin walked up to take his turn. There was elegance in the way his brother straightened and notched the arrow, each movement measured.

When he lifted the bow, his body straightened, his broad back shifting as he pulled back. Ruari was proud of his younger brother's abilities, but of Elvin's archery skill, he was in awe.

Elvin released the arrow and it sunk into the center of the target.

There were roars of approval and clapping. People calling out his name.

It was as if Elvin didn't hear a single thing. Instead, he watched solemnly as each of the other archers took their turns.

When it was his turn again, Elvin resumed his stance and notched the second arrow, aimed, and released it. The arrow split the first and again, the audience erupted.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Ruari walked to where Robbie, Adair, and Edine were. He went to stand next to Robbie. "My brother wins again," he murmured with mock annoyance and the warrior chuckled.

"Aye, and he will ensure everyone is aware for days to come," Robbie replied good-naturedly.

Ruari stole a glance at Adair and Edine. "Ladies, are ye enjoying the festivities?"

The fair-haired young woman was a delicate beauty. She slid a look to Robbie and Ruari instantly knew she was enamored of the warrior. "Aye, we have, Laird," she replied, cheeks pinkening.

"Adair?" He gave the woman he wished to be standing next to a pointed look. "How fare ye?"

"Very well, thank ye," she replied with a soft smile. His gaze lingered on her lips, only broken when the people in the stands began calling out to whoever was about to compete next.

Robbie lifted a brow. "Time for the hammer throw. Best of luck Laird."

Despite his best effort, Clyde won, and Ruari placed second. Both were glad to have beaten the visiting man, from Clan McLachlan, who'd won previous competitions.

The last competition, the caber toss, was to be held in a field outside the gates the following day. It gave time for the stands to be moved, which meant the people now meandered from stand to stand to purchase offerings, whilst the Stuart guards roasted two pigs that would be fed to those who lived there and the visitors at last meal.

Long tables were set up where everyone would sit, and torches were lit that would give off enough light.

Thankful for the short reprieve, Ruari went into the house and hurried to his study, where he hoped to get some quiet time. He avoided his uncle who sat at a table in the great room surrounded by his own men drinking ale and whiskey.

Moments later, his mother entered through the door. She looked around the room, seeming surprised to find him alone.

"Why are ye here instead of entertaining our guests? We must remain in good standing with the visiting lairds." She gave him a disapproving look. "Honestly Ruari, ye can nae be tired."

He stood and went to the door, pulling it closed. "Mother, it is of utmost importance that ye listen to me. I sent a messenger to Malcolm yesterday. He must have arrived by now."

She lowered to a chair, concern etched on her pretty face. "Are things so bad, son?"

Ruari nodded. "My uncle wishes to take our lands, our home."

"That will nae happen." She straightened and set her shoulders. "My nephew will respond and will give us his support. Of that I will make sure."

Her eyes met his and held and for a moment, his mother's expression softened. "I see yer father when I look at ye. He would be proud." She let out a sigh. "Ye are a good laird to our people."

In that moment, he knew that she'd understood what happened and through it all had trusted in him, had faith that he'd find a course for the future of their small clan. His chest filled with pride.

Unable to speak past the thickness in his throat, he could only nod in response.

His mother's brows lowered. "I am sure Archibald is mulling over whether to believe ye or nae. He may have forgotten that I come from a powerful clan that could easily overtake him."

She stood, walked to the door, and turned to him. "Ye should be out there presiding over the festivities. This is yer territory and no one else's."

They went out together—a united front—and joined the visitors at tables set up for them near a large bonfire. There must have been something different about them, because his brother sauntered over and lowered onto the bench next to him. "Is all well?"

"Aye. It is." Ruari slapped his younger brother's back. "I had no doubt ye would win today."

Elvin smirked. "I have yet to receive my prize. Ye wandered off and Finnian had to pay the other winners. I think he mistakenly gave my prize away."

Ruari laughed. "I will ensure ye get it."

With his mother to his left and Elvin on his right, for the first time in a long time, Ruari felt strength in his small family. His uncle must have noticed it as well because he glanced over from the other table and his eyes narrowed.

He'd gone to sit at the table where the other lairds were, acting as if he were the host. Those at the table were forced to tolerate his continued babbling about lands and such.

The McNaughton stood and walked over to Ruari's table. "May I join ye?"

*

People began settling for the night, most of the vendors sleeping behind their stands, wrapped in blankets. Ruari returned from speaking with the guards and too restless to seek his bed, he walked to the back garden where he suspected no one would be.

The sky was filled with stars that night, and the moon was bright. Its light enough so that he could see clearly until he found a back door. Pushing the heavy door open, he walked into a dark corridor that led to the laundry area.

He'd grown up there and could navigate easily in the dark. When finding the door he sought, he pushed it open and walked in.

On the bed, lay Adair, sound asleep. She'd not doused the lantern, so its glow spilled across the room.

"Adair," he whispered, not daring to touch her lest she scream.

She stirred and then her eyes popped open, and she looked up at him in surprise. "Laird." Pushing up to sit, she wiped her eyes. "Is something wrong?"

"Nae. I wished to speak to ye." He felt like a pubescent lad waiting for her response.

Her lips curved. "Of course. Please, sit." She motioned to the bed, and he lowered to it.

The ease of being with her was something he'd never experienced, and in that instant, he understood why.