Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

K endrick fought to keep his disdain to himself. "Ye may attend our next council meeting, Laird Munro," he muttered. "Yer contributions to the matter will be much appreciated, and perhaps, we may come up with a solution to the harvest troubles that both of our clans face."

"Thank ye, milaird. We can only hope for such success," said Munro, a man of middle age, Laird himself to a nearby clan.

His presence did not grace Kendrick in any way. He despised the man for his arrogance, but his uncle, Logan, had suggested he show leniency. Despite being Laird, Kendrick would not go against his uncle's sincere request.

The hall gradually filled with elder clansmen ready to discuss the harvest—some with opinions of their own; and others to judge said opinions. The hall was filled with both honored council members and some concerned landholders. Kendrick could only hope they would come to some sense between them.

"Greetings, milaird. If it delights ye, then I seek to propose a solution," one of the men requested. It was Angus Gibson.

Kendrick made a gesture for him to go ahead. "Ye may go on."

"There are lands to the east, where are clan borders Laird Munro's clan," Angus said. "I have come to find that these lands are most fertile and would be useful for planting."

"I disagree with his proposition, milaird," Munro objected. "We have a long-standing agreement forbidding the toil of lands on our borders."

"Milaird…" Angus shot a brief look at Munro. "A consensus must be reached for the benefit of all. We will all starve to death otherwise. Munro or MacNeil."

"We do not violate customs for the supposed benefit of the people," Munro maintained. "Rather, I would suggest the farmers put in twice as much effort to revive the land they already have."

"The farmers work hard enough already," Angus retorted. "They labor from night till dawn, yet the earth provides no bounty. It's nae in our hands."

"Then," Munro growled. "We shall find another approach—it is plain insolence on your side that you advise we violate such an old custom."

Uproar soon sparked in the hall, some in support of Angus, and others in agreement with Munro. Caught up in their discussion, only Kendrick noticed the entrance of Catherine from the back door of the court. She fixed her gaze on him, trailing down her neck with her fingers and smiling to herself… which made him feel a shiver.

"So, Laird Munro, ye suggest we let our people starve while we uphold traditions made by long-dead men who never faced a starving clan?" Kendrick levelled a glare at Munro. Despite his failings, he could never imagine such callousness from a laird.

"Those long-dead men , as ye say, brought our lands to existence. It is only common sense that we uphold the laws of their making," Munro responded, but Kendrick could sense his anger was at a boiling point.

"Nae, Laird Munro. Here in my keep, my people are of great importance to me," Kendrick pressed, rising from his chair. "I shall not uphold traditions while my clan dies of starvation. This is nonsense."

"I see ye are all grown now. Dinnae bite off more than ye can chew," Munro gnarled. "I refuse to be engaged in violating old customs. If this is what ye propose, then I shall excuse myself from this gathering."

The stomping of his boots against the stone was the only sound as he walked out of the hall. Laird Munro had a reputation for his ill temper. He was a man who could harbor grudges for all eternity, and Kendrick had just challenged him in front of farmers he considered lowly.

Now composed and quiet, Angus lowered his head before Kendrick. "What shall we do about Laird Munro, milaird? We need the land sooner rather than later…"

Kendrick thought for a moment. "Leave him be. I shall have a meeting with him when he has calmed. Perhaps, a few days from now."

"How about the other matter, milaird?" one of the farmers interjected. "Surely, we should sort out what we can for today."

"As my uncle has announced," Kendrick replied hesitantly, "I shall find a lass and marry soon."

"Pardon my insolence," the farmer insisted, "How soon will it be?"

"The council will decide," Kendrick declared to everyone in the great hall. "I shall marry according to their decision."

There were soft murmurs in the hall for a short time. Complete silence followed soon after. One of the main members of the council walked to the front of the rest. He first bowed to Kendrick, then faced the crowd of farmers. "It has been decided." He turned back to Kendrick. "The Laird must find a lass to marry and bear him an heir. He must do so within the next two months. If he fails, his uncle, Logan MacNeil, shall become new Laird of the MacNeil clan."

Kendrick looked away as voices debated the council's ruling. As Laird, he had done his very best, and he would not allow the council to remove him from his position. He would not be defined by incompetence like his father had been.

The court was dismissed, but Kendrick could not find the strength to leave his seat. It was as though his legs were numb, or too weak to carry the weight of his body. Even his spirit was unwilling. He held onto the wooden arms of the chair, struggling for support as he forced himself up.

He did not know whether fear or anger fueled him now. One thing was certain: he would not sit around forlorn, waiting to be dragged out of his clan.

When he finally stepped outside, rain poured down, and the sky rumbled ruthlessly. He turned from the hall's entrance to nestle himself into an alcove. Crestfallen, he watched the wet, muddy field outside the keep's gates.

It was the same field he played in countless times as a child. He almost wished to return to simpler times, when he didn't have to worry about feelings, farmers, family, and the duty that went along with them. Back then, all he did was laugh and roll around with Reid and Sophia in the muck, as their laughter echoed throughout the keep.

Hearing a noise, he swiftly turned his neck to catch his uncle behind him.

"I told ye, lad. Have ye come to a decision?" Kendrick could only offer an expressionless stare. "Ye heard the council." Logan sounded frustrated. "Ye have to make a choice at the feast in a few days."

"Why dinnae ye decide for me, Uncle? Ye seem to desire my marriage more than I do."

"It is for yer own good, lad. Ye need an heir to remain Laird, and ye need a fair lass to give ye an heir." Logan put his hands on Kendrick's shoulder, patting him gently. "I'm worried for ye, dinnae make light of that. Sophia, Lorena, or any other maiden yer age would be a fine choice."

"I cannae make Sophia my wife," Kendrick blurted out without much thought. It made Logan shift backward and arch his brow.

"It was only a suggestion, lad," Logan mumbled. "I presumed it would be natural if ye felt drawn to her since ye had known her the longest."

Kendrick did not move his sight away from the downpour. "I dinnae feel drawn to her," he lied.

Because he had loved her once, he was unable to contemplate ever harming her the way a man harms a wife—the way his father harmed his mother. Out of love. Years ago, he had thought his heart belonged to Sophia… and he had pushed her away because of it. He knew there was no way he could accept her.

"I would say ye go for the middle one then. She is a bonnie lass, I must say," Logan advised. "Ye make yer move, get close to her at the feast. Nae lass can resist MacNeil charm, ye ken. Nae that a laird will need to be charming at all."

He could never fall in love with Lorena, but Logan was unaware of how much Kendrick had cherished Sophia. He didn't know it was not Sophia's beauty that incited Kendrick's affection, but the rainy afternoon strolls they took together, the rides on the back of horses… the memories of her that shielded him from destruction on the days his mother's ghost would haunt him.

Perhaps it was fated that only she could catch his attention, and he had no intention of betraying their friendship. Even the memories of Sophia could evoke the deepest of emotions in him—still. He would rather live a thousand lonely nights, than admit his past affections for her.

He didn't notice the tear on his face before it fell.

The only way he could shield Sophia was to push her as far away as he could. He would do everything in his power to keep her safe so that he wouldn't place himself in a position where his heart could further betray him.

Lorena had spent an hour pacing around the room. She'd been pacing for three days since their father told them about the Laird's feast. Sophia's dark eyes followed her around the room, nudging her favorite planter every time she returned to it.

"Ye should sit down, Lorena. Yer movement is maddening."

"Ye ken sister, if he chooses one of us, we would be living in hell! Imagine waking up to a man who ignores ye, it's so terrible!" Lorena collapsed onto the bed. Her dramatic side usually amused Sophia, but now it was making her even more nervous.

Her mind drifted to thoughts of Kendrick, and she imagined how pleasant it would be to see him again. Clearly, it was an image much different than the one plaguing Lorena's mind. "I have told ye—Laird MacNeil is a fine man, and any lass would be happy to be his lady."

"By chance, are ye defending him, sister?" Lorena raised a brow.

"I am nae! All I am saying is he is kind and gentle. At least I have such memories of him, and he is nae a brute."

"Yet he grew distant from ye without reason. Do ye nae consider the possibility that he may nae longer be the young lad ye played with as a bairn? Do ye nae hear the rumors of his coldness?"

Sophia had never been one to give much credit to rumors and gossip. Besides, she knew him better than anyone who had a thing to say of his character… but she could not deny it. She often wondered about the reason he grew indifferent to her, and it was, at times, a torment. She worried that he noticed her feelings for him and that they scared him away.

"People dinnae change that quickly, Lorena." She knew for a fact that they did, but still, she had to defend him from her sister's harsh remarks. "Ye should feel sorry for him instead. He is more likely a lonely laird stuck in a castle without someone with whom to share happiness or sorrow."

"Now, I would be kind enough to offer pity, but I wouldn't want to wed such a brute." Lorena turned to face Sophia, but she was too wrapped up in her ruminating to notice. "Are ye there, sister?" she mouthed, almost making her jump out of her own skin. "Were ye even listening to me?"

"I was, indeed." She couldn't speak more on these rumors for she did not know what could cause anyone to hate him, especially Lorena. "How would this look?" Sophia huffed, beaming as she got to her feet. She dragged the Arasaid she had sewn for special occasions from the far corner of the room and held it over her body.

Lorena rolled her eyes in disappointment. "Ye would look like a rabbit chasing carrots in it."

"Really?" Sophia fought a frown.

Her sister drew her down onto the bed, holding her hands as if in desperation.

"Think about it—ye are like the sun and moon. He is different from ye. Ye cannae possibly wish to marry him just because of yer admiration for him. He would smother yer light."

"Ye poor thing… it's a good thing ye may nae have to marry him, then," Sophia teased as she lovingly touched her sister's cheek.

"Ye should cease taunting yer sister," their mother announced as she entered Sophia's room. "It would be an honor if the Laird asked to wed our dear Sophia," she leaned over to retrieve the garment on Sophia's lap. "This would fit ye, my dear," she simpered.

Sophia leaped up, catching her mother in a half-embrace. "Ye think so, ma?"

Their mother nodded in affirmation, "I believe so, my love."

Having failed to dissuade her sister, Lorena put her hands over her mouth, yawning in resignation.

"Ye must get ready. We depart shortly for the feast." Their mother lowered herself enough to reach Lorena's arms, and without giving room for her to free herself, she dragged her out of the chamber.

Sophia smiled to herself. She couldn't seem to get Kendrick off her mind. She was concerned about how much older he would appear. She imagined his blue eyes locked on hers and him addressing her as his lady . Her stomach knotted just thinking about it made her chuckle. She wished she could run her fingers through his thick, dark, curly hair. She had so much she wanted to tell him...

She had hoped for a day like this for all eternity.

This sounds too good to be true… but what could go wrong? I doubt he would choose Lorena , she thought, anxiety creeping up her throat. Lorena had no affection for him. In fact, she despised him, and she would not settle with a man for whom she had no feelings.

"Sophia!" Lorena called in a whisper as she sneaked into her room again. She was dressed in an astonishing blue dress that was falling down heavily and made her look like a serene night sky.

Turning her gaze to her sister, Sophia opened her mouth wide in playful shock. "Ye look like ye would leave all the lads fighting for breath tonight!"

Lorena posed, showing off playfully. "Do I, sister?"

"Shall I show ye yer reflection in my eyes?"

"Thank ye, sister. Ye will look even more beautiful."

Sophia took Lorena's hand in her own and drew in an anxious breath. There was a lot she wanted to say; a lot she had to lose tonight, too. "I dinnae ken what will happen tonight, but promise me, we will always be here for each other."

Lorena looked suddenly downcast. She pried her hand away to seize Sophia's. "I promise, sister. Things may change, but we will always be here for each other."

Sophia pulled her close, holding Lorena for what could have been hours before pulling herself back.

They knew not what the feast would bring, but one thing was certain: things would not be the same when they returned. The sisters had great confidence in their unbreakable bond and, together, even the strongest storm would only seem like a drizzle.

"Shall we go then?" Sophia forced a smile once she was dressed and offered her hand.

"We shall," Lorena grinned lightly before taking Sophia's hand. Together, they walked out of their father's home and into the unknown.