Chapter 13

13

A dam and Doughall had finished their whisky by the time there was a knock on the door. Adam wasn't expecting anyone, so naturally, he assumed it was his mother coming to bother him again.

Instead, he opened the door to find Lucas Moore, a relatively new addition to the MacNiall council, standing before him. He was a wiry man in his forties and had lowered the average age of the members by about thirty years.

"Lucas," Adam said, looking down at him. He wasn't much taller than Emily.

"M'Laird, may I disturb ye for a few moments? I have a council matter I wish to discuss with ye."

Adam glanced back at Doughall, who still had his feet up and looked as though he was minutes from falling asleep.

"Aye," he replied. "I'm nae doin' anythin' important."

"I heard that," Doughall grunted.

Adam closed the door quietly behind him as he walked out into the corridor. To his surprise, he noticed his mother hovering nearby. She appeared to be admiring a tapestry, but he wasn't fooled. Moira Kane no longer had any influence over the council's decisions and was taking a while to adjust to the new reality.

"What did ye want?" Adam asked Lucas.

The little man pulled a letter from his coat. "The Young family has returned with a number of new requests, M'Laird." He handed over the letter. "Given their recent visit as representatives of Clan McPherson's old residents, I felt it was important that this was handed to ye in person."

Adam frowned at the letter in utter bewilderment. He opened it quickly, reading through a list of requirements that seemed reasonable enough but written in a way that suggested they were repeated requests.

"Clan MacPherson?" he asked cautiously. "Me faither absorbed a fair portion of their lands into ours. But that was years ago." He frowned at Lucas. "What do ye mean, their ‘recent' visit?"

Adam noticed his mother moving closer to them now, and he started to feel uneasy.

Why is she getting involved in council matters again? I have been quite clear on this!

"M'Laird, I believe this is the third time the family has made the journey. After they were integrated into the MacNiall lands, there were a number of disputes with the neighboring MacPherson villagers. Their properties have sustained damage, as I understand it. Food has been withheld—they have been denied access to the drinking wells. The MacPhersons dinnae like that they are still close to their borders."

Adam was stunned. He had no knowledge of this issue. It had been over a year since the MacPherson agreement had been signed—a gnarly issue that dragged on after his father's death for many months. He had been told it was resolved.

"Are the Young family still here?" he asked.

"Nay, M'Laird. They were asked to leave and were told that their requests would be reviewed in due course."

Adam crumpled the note into his fist, looking over at his mother, who seemed decidedly guilty all of a sudden. "And who, may I ask, told me people to leave before I had a chance to consider their requests?"

"Lord Barclay, M'Laird," Lucas said, looking slightly alarmed at Adam's expression.

"Maither!" Adam shouted. Moira Kane flinched. "I will have a word with ye. Lucas, gather the council immediately."

Lucas scurried off.

Moira walked over to Adam. Any trace of guilt had faded from her face as she attempted to look down her nose at him.

He brandished the note and raised his eyebrows. "What is the meaning of this?" he asked, spinning on his heel and stalking down the corridor, forcing her to follow him at a gentle trot.

"What do ye mean?" she asked defensively. "It is what he says. They have made demands, and ye are considerin' it."

"How can I consider somethin' for a third time when I didnae even ken about the first and second requests?"

"Ye cannae be apprised of everythin' that goes on within the clan, Adam. Ye are naive to think that the council would inform ye of such trivial matters."

Adam stopped, turning to her angrily. "Trivial? Some of these requests are for a plot of land to grow crops. How do our own farmers nae have land, Maither? Tell me!"

Moira opened and closed her mouth helplessly for a second, then shook her head, her anger spiking. "They are nae our people," she protested.

Those words confirmed exactly what Adam had suspected. With a growl of rage, he set off again, storming through the corridors toward the council chambers.

As he entered, he saw Lucas standing in a room full of men, many of whom were rising from the long table in the center.

So, the council is meeting without me knowledge . I'm goin' to put a stop to that right now!

"Sit down," he barked, and every man in the room complied.

Lucas, who was clearly lower in the hierarchy than the others, was sitting at the very bottom of the table, away from Adam.

At its head was Donal Barclay, the eldest member of the council and a man who had never recognized Adam's authority. Barclay was his father's man through and through. The only reason Adam had kept him around was because he had a formidable influence in the clan.

He was regretting that choice more every day.

His mother had followed him into the room, and he saw Barclay give her a meaningful look.

Adam scowled, walked to the table, and threw the paper in front of them all, glaring around at them accusingly. "What is the meanin' of this?"

Barclay wore a stoic mask, completely unaffected by Adam's raging temper. "It is a list of requests, M'Laird," he said obsequiously.

"Dinnae play games with me, man. Why was I nae informed?"

"It is a small matter, M'Laird."

"I'll tell ye what is a small matter and what isnae."

"Of course, M'Laird, but Her Ladyship and the council discussed this issue at the time of yer sister's disappearance and did not feel that it required yer attention."

"Well, it has me attention now, thanks to Lucas Moore, who seems to be the only one of sound mind in here."

Adam saw the rest of the table exchange irritated glances at that, and his mother closed her eyes in despair. It was probably not the most politically sensible thing he could have said.

"Why have these farmers nae been given what they need? Some of these requests are for things as basic as food and shelter. It has been years since the agreement was made."

"These people are from Clan MacPherson," Barclay said, as though speaking to someone very stupid.

Adam stared at him. "Nay, they arenae, they are part of Clan MacNiall now. Me faither made a deal to bring them across to our lands."

"But that's nae how they'll be treated though, is it?" came a voice from the other side of the room.

Adam looked up, astonished to see Emily standing in the doorway, listening to the proceedings with a grim expression.

"This doesnae concern ye, Lady Emily," Moira snapped.

The entire council was looking between the three of them with barely concealed astonishment.

Adam scowled. This put him in an impossible position. He didn't want his mother to speak to Emily in such a way, and yet he also agreed with her.

Council matters did not concern the Lady of the castle unless the Laird wasn't present, and they certainly didn't concern Emily before he had even married her.

Emily stepped into the room as though she had every right to be there. In fact, she looked more confident in this setting than Adam had yet seen her. It was clearly not her first time in a council chamber.

"We had a similar issue at Clan Wilkinson," she said.

Barclay was sneering down at his paperwork, pretending not to listen to her, and Adam rapped on the table, making him jump.

"Me faither conquered some neighboring lands," Emily continued, "but a peace treaty was brokered before the rest of the clan was absorbed into our territory. That meant that villages were split, and neighbors who had always been part of one clan were suddenly loyal to two different lairds."

She fixed Barclay with such a withering look that Adam feared for the man's life.

"It's easier to ignore them and wait for them to defect than to send resources across many miles."

Moira shifted her weight from one foot to the other, and Adam fought the urge to close his eyes in despair.

Everything made sense now. This was why the Youngs had been sent away without anyone asking him to meet with them—why their visit had been concealed. The council had hoped that the problem would solve itself.

Are these really the men I have makin' decisions for me?

"And how did ye resolve it?" Lucas asked Emily.

Adam looked down the table at him with some irritation, as did many others.

Me own council is askin' her for advice now? I am standin' right here!

"It doesnae matter what Clan Wilkinson did," he spat. "Do I look like Laird Wilkinson?"

Emily recoiled at that, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at him furiously.

The rest of the council had returned their attention to Adam, and he picked up the paper and waved it at them.

"If we own their lands, then they are MacNiall citizens now. That is the end of any discussion on the subject. We will treat them as we expect our people to be treated. I want food and supplies sent to them immediately. Ensure they have enough clothing for the winter and fix their homes if they have been damaged. I want a report in a week."

"Ye should meet with them in person," Emily piped up.

Adam's hand tightened around the paper. This was beyond bearing now. She was interrupting him in front of his whole council and making him look like a fool. For once, he wished he had listened to his mother.

I cannae order her to leave in front of everyone. I still need her to go along with me plan.

He frowned at her, but she met his gaze with a look of defiance. Barclay was watching them, a smirk on his face.

"And tell the Young family to return," Adam said to him pointedly. "I will speak to them about the arrangements and any further action that might be needed."

At that, the council was dismissed, and the men all began to rise and leave the room.

Moira disappeared as quickly as possible, clearly expecting Adam to confront her over her trying to influence things again.

Adam waited for the council members to leave the room and then slammed the door shut behind them, before spinning around and staring at Emily, rage overtaking him.

"What right do ye have to give orders here?" he growled. "I didnae bring ye here to make me look like a fool."

"Ye didnae bring me here. Ye kidnapped me."

"Do ye want to see what it's like to truly be me prisoner? Because I can show ye as soon as ye like."

"Are ye really goin' to tie me up in yer dungeons just because I made a simple suggestion in front of yer council?"

Adam advanced on her, using his larger body to push her up against the edge of the table. She gasped as he pinned her there, but he realized his mistake as soon as he did it.

If he had backed her against the wall, he could have kept her in place with his hands, but against the table, the only way he could prevent her from moving was to pin her there with his hips.

His arms came around her to bracket her body, and she was forced to lean backward, supporting her weight on her hands, half arched back over the table. It was incredibly arousing, and he was having a hard time keeping his hands to himself.

"Ye arenae the Lady of this castle," he growled. "Nae yet. Ye have nay authority here, and ye'll keep yer tongue behind yer teeth."

The tongue in question darted out and licked her lips, and his eyes couldn't help but follow it. He pushed further forward as she shuddered beneath him.

It was so reminiscent of the gardens that he had to fight to keep from taking her right there on the table.

"Ye ought to hire a new council," she said, her voice quivering.

He scoffed. "Och, aye? Ye ken so much about it, do ye?"

"Aye, I was on the Wilkinson council," she said emphatically, and Adam paused, amazed by that information.

"In place of yer faither?" he asked, his nose almost brushing against hers.

"Nay. Me faither gave me a position when I was eighteen. I ken how a clan should be run and when ye have men loyal to ye. Whoever that man was at the head of the table looked at ye like he hated ye. That isnae someone ye need influencin' yer council's decisions."

She sucked in a breath as his hand moved to her lower back and pulled her roughly against him.

"Is that so?" he asked, watching her green eyes smolder just as they had on the moorlands.

"Let go of me," she said darkly.

"Nay, I dinnae think I will." He rolled his hips against hers, and she bit her lip. "I think ye deserve to be punished for interruptin' me council meetin' and givin' yer opinions when nay one asked for them."

Her hand shot out as though to strike him, but Adam was quicker. His fingers gripped her wrist, and he secured both her arms behind her. She was balanced precariously, relying on his strength to remain upright.

He looked down at her, desire thrumming in his veins. "Ye dinnae think ye should be punished?" he asked, pushing his hips forward again as she closed her eyes.

She was panting beneath him now, her body quivering with tension.

"Are ye honestly tellin' me ye dinnae want me, lass? I can feel ye tremblin' in me arms."

"I will never want ye."

"Nay. Just like ye didnae want me in the gardens?" he asked.

He released her wrists, and with a startled cry, she fell back against the table. His hand came up to cushion her fall and rested beneath her head.

She was sprawled before him, gazing up at him with wild confusion, and he groaned as he lowered himself over her body. Emily's hands came down beside her hips, trying to pull away, but he put his other hand on her waist, keeping her in place.

Her eyes fluttered as the heat of surrender overtook them, and he stroked his hand over her waist and down the folds of her dress to the apex of her thighs. Even with yards of fabric between them, she hissed in a breath as he touched her there but did not pull away.

"Ye are a sight to behold when ye fight me," he murmured, lowering himself further, his fingers massaging her as he kissed the swell of her breasts.

She moaned weakly as her fingers tangled in his hair.

Keeping his hand where it was, he pushed further against her as her hips came up, and he took her mouth in a searing kiss. On a soul-deep groan, he thrust his tongue into her sweet heat, and she opened for him, moaning into the kiss, her hands still in his hair.

The same deep satisfaction flooded through him as she surrendered entirely, her body becoming pliant and needy in his arms.

He pulled back, looking down at her lustful gaze. "I cannae get enough of ye."

But just as quickly as his arousal grew to a fever pitch, her eyes darkened and she shoved him away, awkwardly jumping down from the table. She gathered herself, righting her clothing and glaring at him angrily.

"I hope ye ken what ye are doin', M'Laird, " she bit out. "One minute I have nay place here, and the next ye cannae get enough of me? I thought as leader of this clan, ye were supposed to inspire trust and respect in yer people. Right now, I have seen evidence of neither."

Adam was about to reach for her again and give her a piece of his mind when she turned on her heel and stormed out of the room.

And now ye've enraged the only asset ye have left against Stewart, ye blitherin' fool.