Chapter Eight

Lennox MacVey

The chieftain of Clan MacVey, Lennox MacVey, stared at the chieftain of Clan Rankin, Sloan Rankin. "Why the hell would King Robert gift Duart Castle to anyone in Clan Ramsay?"

"Because the MacDougalls didn't favor the Bruce. So, our king gifted it to the Ramsays."

"What know ye of the clan?" Lennox asked. He knew nothing of the Ramsays, probably because he'd been here on the Isle of Mull for too long. His sire had built their castle overlooking the Sound of Mull, and as Taskill, his only brother, was the younger of the two, the chieftainship would pass to Lennox and did the day his sire died two years ago.

He'd been off to Europe traveling and returned home immediately, but his experience was mostly in France and Spain. He knew little of the politics of the region.

His mother, Rut, paced behind the table, her long, plaited hair now gray from age. Her undergown was a stunning gold to match the gold and brown plaid overgown. He'd depended on his mother for most of his knowledge of running the clan—the numbers, the food stores, the boats, everything. But he was a quick learner. She knew something about nearly every clan in Scotland and the isles.

She didn't pause to explain, instead continuing her pacing. "Clan Ramsay is an honorable clan. They are known for one of the elders, Logan Ramsay, and his wife, Gwyneth. They both worked as spies for King Alexander many years ago. His wife was a renowned archer, as are most of the lasses of the clan. We could use some archers here, Lennox. We must befriend them, not antagonize them."

Lennox scoffed at the idea. "I'll stick with my sword skills and so will our guards."

Sloan said, "I don't know much more than that, but I'll gladly take archers to fight. I'd like to train as an archer myself. Have you visited yet? You are the closer one."

"Nay, but I had someone scout the area, and they have arrived. Three horses, three men, two women. It is said more are on their way. Two of their horses are warhorses." Lennox looked to Sloan for his reaction. "And they are beauties, so I was told." Sloan's arched brow was exactly what he'd expected.

They would all like warhorses.

The Isle of Mull was home to five clans that they were aware of. The MacDougalls, now the Ramsays, held Duart Castle in the northeast. Clan Rankin occupied the northernmost corner of the isle. Clan MacVey sat between the Rankins and Duart Castle. There were two other clans on the isle, the MacQuaries to the west and the MacClanes to the south. Since there were mountains in the center of the island, they didn't often see either clan.

"Mayhap they'll rent a stallion out. I'd pay."

"We all would."

"When did they arrive?"

Sloan stared at the beams overhead, his brown hair hitting his collar and flipping up. It was Lennox's brother, Taskill, who all the ladies liked. He had the charisma that he and Sloan lacked. Lennox was the quickest in the group, but Sloan was a genius when it came to numbers. Unlike Sloan's brother, Rinaldo, who was not. His brother had a big heart, but they'd nearly lost him at birth, so his mother had said long ago.

Lennox knew his dark hair hadn't attracted many ladies. After all, he was seven and twenty and still unmarried. He had no immediate plans to marry, though his mother was often prompting him to find a wife, simply because he needed heirs to keep the castle in the family. Lennox wasn't in any rush.

His most attractive feature was his blue eyes. Some had called them cold as ice because they were a light blue. And he'd been called cold because he didn't talk much. Taskill did most of the talking for him, acting as his second-in-command. That pleased him. Lennox preferred to talk when it came to Sloan or his mother, or when the subject of the clan's welfare was upon them or growing his force of guards to protect the castle. For the day-to-day affairs of the clan, Taskill did the talking.

He'd heard the MacClanes hoped to overtake the entire isle someday, but with another clan to battle, that would be difficult. The entire conversation came to a halt when the door to Lennox's solar opened. Taskill stood there and said, "Visitors. A MacQuarie and a lass who has been beaten. They wish to see Doiron. What say you?"

Their mother pushed her way out the door. "I say get the healer. And I'll see to finding out who the bastard is that beat her."

Lennox followed his mother, Sloan and Taskill behind him.

He hadn't prepared for the sight in front of them. The lass wasn't just beaten.

The atrocity committed against her was done with the intent to kill. And by the look on everyone's faces, they all thought the same thing.

The poor lass couldn't walk.

Thane said, "We need the healer. She doesn't have much time left."