Chapter Two

Ruari and his most trusted friend Keir Campbell rode back from the Murray's feeling comfortably full and a bit lightheaded from the ale.

"The lass from the forest was terrified ye would tell her parents," Keir said with a chuckle.

"Aye, I did nae realize she was Robbie's sister. It makes me wonder why she was in the forest snaring a rabbit. The family is nae without food."

The muscled warrior shrugged. "Sport or just to pass the time. She seems to be a feisty lass."

Picturing the young woman, Ruari couldn't help but smile. "She is certainly spirited." It was interesting that she'd not seemed as affected by him as most of the women he came across. Instead of throwing herself at him, her gaze barely lingered on him.

After arriving at the celebration that night, only once did he catch her watching him, but it was with a wary look. Then again the circumstances could have affected any reaction to him.

Ruari shook his head. What did it matter if the lass found him desirable or not? It shouldn't bother him in the least.

"There is something we should discuss tomorrow." Ruari met Keir's gaze. "We must decide what to do if my uncle requests that we go to battle against the Macdonalds".

Kier guided his mount around a rocky area. "Aye, ye must decide what is best for us. There are only a few of us. Our presence barely makes a difference."

His uncle Archibald Stuart insisted he and his men be part of every conflict between the clans. It was ridiculous how many times his uncle had issues with the surrounding lairds. Not only was it dangerous for Ruari and his men, but also it earned him enemies that could easily overtake his small keep.

People—like the ones he'd just spent the evening with—counted on him to keep them safe and it was going to prove impossible if he kept bowing to his power-hungry uncle.

If only his father were still alive. Unfortunately, he'd been mortally wounded during a battle that had been instigated by his uncle Archibald. Another of many reasons to detest the man.

*

The next morning Ruari had barely sat down for first meal when a messenger arrived. At noting his uncle's crest on the parchment, his food lost its appeal.

"What does Uncle Archibald want now?" he asked the messenger without opening the missive.

"For ye to visit."

"Why so formal as to send it in writing?" Ruari slid a look to the rolled parchment.

The messenger frowned. "I dinnae know."

Ruari tore off the seal and scanned the words. Apparently, his uncle was not pleased that his last request to meet had been ignored. Ruari had sent a message letting his uncle know he was unwell, which had been partially true. The fact it was a result of too much whiskey imbibed at the tavern had been left off the message.

"I will depart after meeting with my leaders this morning," he told the messenger who nodded and walked out.

"I suppose he does nae wish to eat?" Keir said looking in the direction the young warrior had gone.

Ruari shrugged. "I am sure my uncle instructed him to return straight away."

The trek to his uncle's lands would take several hours, and Ruari hoped by the time they arrived he would be prepared to have a difficult conversation with his uncle.

Pushing his plate back, he blew out a breath and motioned to a table where several men sat. "Finnian, we must talk."

Finnian Stuart was his cousin and part of his guard. Not only was he an able archer, but he was also Archibald's second-born. Despite being estranged from his father, Finnian was loyal to clan Stuart and would be helpful in negotiations with the irritable man.

"There is little to be done about my father, except to be blunt and expect the worst," Finnian said moments later once they had settled in the sitting room where they often discussed matters of importance.

Keir leaned forward in his chair and pinned Ruari with a focused look. "What do ye plan to say to him? He must know we will nae fight again. We are only gaining enemies. These people yer uncle fights against are our neighbors."

"I know all of this," Ruari replied. "What I dinnae know is what his reaction will be to my refusal to battle alongside his men again."

Without Archibald's constant riling, the region would be peaceful. It was surprising that the surrounding lairds had not planned a way to dispose of him yet. Despite the constant fighting, injuries and deaths had been few, which was something to be grateful for, Ruari supposed.

Mostly the battling was more like a game between the lairds to keep the Stuarts at bay.

Ruari leaned back and stared up at the ceiling. "The men are nae fighting to the death, it is more like a contest to see who can disarm his opponent. Once the sword falls to the ground the loser kneels in defeat. It is a joke."

"Men are not willing to die for a daft man," Keir said, then glanced at Finnian. "I dinnae mean offense, but yer father is…"

Finnian held up a hand. "No need to explain. I agree with ye."

"Shall we go?" Ruari got to his feet and stretched, not looking forward to speaking with his uncle. The man had a foul temper and would enjoy finding a creative way to release his anger.

*

The Stuart keep was an impressive stone structure surrounded by a massive wall atop which men patrolled constantly. The laird had few friends which necessitated constant vigil. The massive wooden gates fortified by iron were opened, so they rode through.

Immediately guards approached, but upon recognizing them motioned them to continue forward. From the many men who congregated around Finnian to ask about his well-being, it was obvious he was missed by his comrades.

Once Finnian extricated himself from the group who greeted him, the three of them approached the entrance.

A guard stepped forward waiting for instructions.

"Inform my father that I am here along with his nephew Ruari and guard Keir," Finnian told the guard who nodded and walked away.

They waited for what seemed much longer than necessary, as they should have been invited to enter right away even if the laird was not present.

A crystal clear message to Finnian that he remained out of favor with his father.

After a long while, Ruari leaned on the wall, arms crossed over his chest, while Finnian and Keir sat on the steps to wait.

The same guard reappeared. "Please come in."

His cousin opened his mouth to say something. By his furious expression, it wouldn't be good. Ruari shot him a warning look and Finnian blew out a breath and pressed his lips into a tight line.

They were shown into the great room, in which only servants were about, sweeping and clearing the tables from the midday meal.

Ruari and his companions remained standing and again they waited.

By the time the laird appeared Ruari had to fight not to show his annoyance.

Archibald Stuart was of medium height, with fine bone structure and brown hair he kept cut just past his jawline that was beginning to show more gray than not.

For someone who loved battle, the laird's soft—almost feminine—features would catch some off guard upon meeting him. He favored deep colors for his clothing and soft-soled shoes that made no noise. On this day, he wore a deep garnet tunic over black breeches and an oval-shaped pendant encrusted with jewels hung from his neck.

"Father," Finnian's one word greeting dripped with barely restrained dislike.

The laird's eyes hooded as he regarded his son. "I hear ye lost the stone toss competition against someone from Clan Macdonald."

Before Finnian could reply, Ruari interjected. "Aye. However, he was the only one from our clan that placed."

At the reply, the laird gave a half-hearted shrug. "If Arran was here, I am sure he would have won," he said referring to his eldest son, who'd gone away several years earlier with the pretext of sailing for a fortune.

Ruari and Finnian suspected he'd left to get away from their father. There had been rumors he'd been killed at sea, but it had never been proven. Much to the laird's dismay, if Arran did not reappear it meant Finnian would be his successor.

"Bring whiskey to my study," Archibald ordered one of the maids who hurried away to do as he bid.

They trailed behind him as he strolled to the study. A place both Ruari and Finnian had seen the inside of more than enough times. Keir was fortunate that he was normally left out of conversations with Archibald. This day, however, Ruari had insisted he be present.

The study was furnished with several chairs around a large table, a pair of sideboards, and a bookcase. On the wall, there were various tapestries, including one depicting a hunting scene stretched over the fireplace.

The servant who'd been sent to fetch whiskey entered, poured the drinks, and silently waited for each man to sit so she could serve.

Archibald settled at the end of the table, with Ruari on his right and Finnian on his left. Keir sat on Ruari's right.

They waited for the servant to place the drams before them and for the laird to drink. Archibald looked to the servant. "Place the carafe on the table. That will be all."

"What should we drink to?" he asked holding up his glass and looking to Ruari.

"To yer health," Ruari said lifting his glass and the others joined.

Once they drank, it was customary to speak of pleasantries, which meant that his uncle would take this time to find out all he could about how things went with Ruari's neighbors.

"It has been a good planting season," Ruari began. "There are plenty of wildlife in the woods and the villagers have few conflicts."

Ruari's father had rarely met with Archibald, as the two were often at odds. It seemed his uncle had a hard time getting along well with anyone. Even his own late brother.

"What of yer neighbors to the west? Are there any troubles there?" his uncle asked in an impatient tone. "I hear the last storm caused much damage."

Despite the fact he and his men had gone to help those who needed it, Ruari preferred not to share any information with his uncle about any perceived weaknesses on his part.

"From the storm. Aye, they did. As did we. There is still much to rebuild. There are several of my people's homes that will nae survive the next one."

His uncle waved the last comment away as if it was of little importance. "What of the Campbells? Have they trespassed as of late?"

At the question Keir tensed, and Ruari hoped the warrior would not inform his uncle that he was a Campbell.

"We have an agreement in place with the Campbell. Travelers may cross borders without repercussion." Ruari braced for his uncle's reaction.

"What!" His uncle got to his feet. "Yer father and I spent many a sleepless night attempting to find a resolution to the constant strife between the people who live near the Campbell border."

Ruari knew for a fact, it had been only his father who'd made the agreement with the Campbell when battle was imminent. The agreement to stay out of each other's territory had lasted for over twenty years. That was until recently. Farmers had complained to him about it and apparently so had those on Campbell lands.

"The Campbell himself came to visit and we discussed how best to handle the issue. We came to what I feel is a sensible and fair agreement for travelers. It makes it much easier for them to take the road that goes through both lands instead of them traveling around and through the forest or shoreline."

His uncle huffed, his displeasure evident. "One day walking over the border, the next they will ride across with warriors. That is what he is setting ye up for."

"We do our best to patrol the area. With only ten men to keep control, the local farmers have been told to send word if they see anything unusual."

"Farmer sentries, how quaint." His uncle held out his glass and Finnian refilled it.

Ruari waited for a beat and fortified himself. "What did ye wish to speak to me about Uncle?"

For a long moment, there was complete silence. It was very much like his uncle to lean toward the dramatic. "I wish to speak about the Macdonald of the north. His people have been causing trouble. They can nae control their herds. They have been warned. One more breech and I will declare war."

"Over one sheep trespassing?" Finnian asked, his expression incredulous. "Or does it have to be two?"

His uncle's gaze narrowed. "Ye jest, which means ye dinnae understand how difficult it is to remain in control of what has been passed down to us from the generations before. That Stuart lands are vast is a result of firm stewardship."

"Finnian's point is that it is not right for men to be injured or possibly die because one shepherd lost sight of part of his herd," Ruari interjected.

Archibald slid a glance to his son, then turned to Ruari, purposely ignoring Finnian. "I require eight of yer men. I meet with the Macdonald two days hence. They must be here tomorrow."

"I can nae afford to send ye that many. Ye are well aware I only have ten men. There is much to do—"

His uncle slammed his hand on the tabletop. "I dinnae care to hear yer excuses. Send the men or I will take yer lands. It is becoming obvious ye are nae ready to be laird."

It was Ruari's turn to lose his patience. "The lands are my father's legacy to me. Ye have no right to take it. I will retain my territory as will my sons after me."

Sensing he'd struck a nerve, his uncle's lips curved into the facsimile of a smile. "Aye, yer father expected that ye would be protector over his lands. Although second born, he had some good leadership qualities. Kept the people satisfied and fed. I suppose that is something commendable."

Ruari fought the urge to state that Archibald's people would have unflattering things to say about their laird. "The storm means I require every man in order to continue repairs. If things change with the Macdonald, then we can help."

"Dinnae forget that ye are part of Clan Stuart. My clan." Archibald pinned him with an angry stare.

He gave a shrug, seeming to calm. "The annoyance of living near the shore, I suppose." He finally conceded. "Very well. Be warned however that all of ye will be required if conflict commences. I will nae take any refusal. Send two of yer guard to escort me." His uncle didn't need extra men, he had plenty. There were two reasons for the request. The first being that he wanted to flex his power over Ruari. Secondly, Ruari suspected his uncle had little trust in his own men.

Rage surged, but Ruari knew it was useless to argue. "Very well."

The laird finally addressed Finnian. "Yer brother. Have ye heard from him? It is time for him to return and begin to train for his birthright."

Even if Finnian knew where his brother Arran was, he would never tell Archibald. "I have nae heard anything."

It was the truth. Ruari knew Finnian worried about his brother.

Although his uncle was without scruples and was estranged from Finnian, Ruari was sure, as a father, his uncle did care for both sons.

The older man was silent for a beat then spoke. "I am going to hire men to find him."

Finnian nodded. "I am glad."

They didn't bother remaining for the meal offered. Not only did Ruari not wish to spend any more time around his uncle, but he needed to ensure repairs were being done. Most of his guard were helping to rebuild their own homes, so he took on the added responsibility of guarding and patrolling. Despite his lands being smaller than his uncle's, it took half a day to patrol just one border.

Their steeds were brought out by stable lads. The three men mounted and rode from the keep at a quick pace, lest his uncle decide to call them back.

"Do ye think he will find yer brother?" Keir asked Finnian.

Finnian pondered for a moment. "If Arran is gone to sea, perhaps not. I dinnae think my brother wishes to be found."

"I agree," Ruari said. "What of the lairdship? Yer father will have to pass it to ye if Arran does nae return."

His cousin frowned. "It will be many years before it is an issue."

"Are those men fighting?" Keir leaned over his horse's back to get a closer look at two men on a nearby hill who swung wooden staffs. "Or sparing?"

"Let us get a closer look," Ruari said urging his horse toward the hill.

By the cursing and swinging of their staffs, the shepherds were not on friendly terms. So engrossed in their fight, they didn't notice them until Ruari was almost upon them. "What happens?"

One of the men turned to him and taking advantage of his opponent's distraction, the other struck him on the back of the head sending the man down on all fours. Both were panting heavily but continued to shout insults at one another.

"This son of a whore stole from my herd," the man who stood called out. He then neared the one who struggled to get up and kicked him back to the ground.

"Stop at once," Ruari called out, dismounting along with his companions.

By the rounding of their eyes, the men just recognized him.

However, it did not stop them from accusing each other of stealing sheep and of making false accusations.

"He stole from me," the one man repeated still wielding his staff like a sword.

The other man finally got to his feet and reached behind his head to check for blood. "He insults me by calling me a thief. He is a liar."

"Damn Campbell." The one with the staff attempted to swing again, but Keir caught the staff and yanked it from his grasp.

Ruari looked to the man who continued to hold his head. "Ye are on Stuart lands."

The man balked and turned to scan the surroundings. "Those are my sheep." He pointed to a small group of sheep who grazed, not at all fazed by the fact their protector was fighting.

"So yer sheep are responsible for ye being here?" Keir asked.

The man glared at the other shepherd. "He invited me here."

The man who'd been swinging the staff glared back. "Only because the other side of the border is flooded from the storm. I did nae expect him to be a thief."

Before they could get into another fight, Ruari interceded. "Where are yer sheep?" he asked the man who belonged to his clan.

"There," the man pointed to another group of oblivious sheep who roamed on the other side of the hill.

"Is it possible that yer sheep will intermingle until such as time as he returns to his lands?"

The shepherd with the staff looked up to the sky as if no one understood him. "He is leaving today, and I saw him go to where my sheep are and tug one over to his side of the hill."

They walked around until the supposed stolen sheep was identified. The only marking was a shaved "X" on the hind quarters, which was the same mark as the other sheep surrounding it.

They then went to the accuser's herd and noted the same exact marking.

After much discussion and several more insults, they counted the sheep and came to an agreement that indeed the Campbell shepherd had not stolen one. The men went to their respective herds and the accused shepherd began his trek back to Campbell lands.

"I wonder what would have happened if we had not come upon them," Keir said as they rode away.

Ruari shook his head. "I dinnae know. But they are no longer friends to be sure. That is what conflict does, it divides us. Up until the argument, they shared lands putting their herds first."

"Who do ye plan to send to my father?" Finnian asked. "I can go."

"Very well. Take Robbie with ye."

As they continued riding, a slight stirring in his stomach made Ruari frown. Something didn't feel right. He wondered if perhaps he should not send anyone to his uncle.