Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE

" D o ye think we should tell the council yet?"

Kendrick asked Logan without looking up from the large brown book he was reading. He leaned against the back of his study's large wooden chair, which he found quite uncomfortable. His right hand rested on the flat top of the mahogany table, while his left flipped through the pages. Behind him, a wall of books stood against walls that were tapestried in a deep blue. Logan sat beneath a large golden chandelier that swung above them.

Kendrick's attention was divided between his uncle and the account book, which contained his tenants' rent.

"We should nae, not until we're sure o' Munro's decision," Logan suggested. "We shouldn't get their hopes up for now."

"All right, Uncle. So, what think ye o' reducing the rents for the tenants as I said?"

"The keep needs their coin to run, milaird."

"I ken, but the harvest this year is poor. If we dinnae give them a helping hand, it will be tough on them."

"What if Munro accepts the proposal? We would have reason to give them aught."

"What if he does nae? Ye ken Munro does nae give in easily."

"Tis better we hold on till we are sure. There is nae need to hurry with that for now."

Someone knocked almost aggressively on the door. "Milaird, may I enter?"

Kendrick recognized the voice as Catherine's. "Ye may enter."

She entered the study, bowing respectfully. The Laird looked up from his book.

She set down a tray of tea.

"What are ye doing?" Kendrick questioned her just as she was about to put the hot water into a teacup.

She set the kettle back down and stood straight. "Tis tea, milaird."

"I dinnae recall asking for tea," he said and turned to Logan. "Perchance, did ye request tea, Uncle?"

"Nae," Logan answered and gave Catherine a disapproving stare. Kendrick knew Logan did not have the slightest tolerance for the maid's antics—not since the day he had found out their trysts.

"I suppose I was mistaken, milaird. Forgive me," Catherine apologized, and she curtseyed before carrying the tray out. She stopped at the door.

"Tis fine, Catherine. Ye can take the tea back to the kitchen and share it among the maids." Kendrick glanced back at his book.

"Nae, wait. Ye can leave it behind, lass," Logan said. He removed his foot from the small stool it had rested on. "Perhaps, I shall help myself to some."

"Aye, Sir Logan." Catherine put the tray on the stool. She prepared them their cups, then lowered her head as she walked out of the study, clearly vexed.

Kendrick felt his heart twist. With a sigh, he watched her go. Just as she was about to open the door again, Logan spoke.

"Laird Munro sent a letter earlier this morning."

"What did it say?" Kendrick lifted his head curiously.

"He apologized for the way he stormed out from the council last time. He said he will pay ye a visit to discuss the harvest." Logan picked up the teacup and took a sip.

"Is that all?"

"He will be coming today."

"Why did ye nae inform me earlier?"

"I rushed down here as quickly as I got the message, and then ye pestered me about charity. ‘Tis a good thing he finally seems to let go of his anger."

"I suppose." Kendrick noticed Catherine still by the open door. "Is there anything else, Catherine?"

She jumped a little. "Nae, milaird. I shall leave now." She closed the door.

"That one." Logan hummed. "She is a sneaky one."

"Dinnae gossip, Uncle."

A fresh knock rasped against the door. Logan was startled by the suddenness, and he was struggling not to choke on his drink.

The door eased open, revealing Laird Munro at the threshold, waiting for an invitation to come in. His yellow plaid held steady at his waist, curling around his enormous form. Despite his large belly, he was quite tall and built like a warrior. Thick and menacing. The scar above his right eye was still as visible as the last time hesaw him. His dark eyes were narrow. Munro, Kendrick was certain, had not let go of his rage as his uncle had suggested. He'd have to tread carefully.

"Laird Munro," Kendrick sat upright. "I bid ye welcome. Please, have a seat." He motioned for him to take the chair next to Logan.

"Thank ye for receiving me, Laird MacNeil," Munro replied before seating. His uncle placed the cup of tea on the tray in front of him.

"To what do I owe this unexpected visit, Laird Munro?" Kendrick asked.

"First, I would like to ask yer understanding for my previous… slight," he said carefully. "As ye ken, I am not a man to back down, and ye insulted me before yer clansmen."

A brute—that's all he is.

Kendrick found his half apology insulting. He glanced at Logan, who nodded, telling him to not act scorned. "I suppose I can forgive yer humors, Laird Munro. We should focus more on what good we can do for both our clans."

"Aye, Laird MacNeil. And for that, I've come up with a solution that will benefit us both."

"All right. I will listen."

"The Mackenzie clan. Their harvest is bountiful this season. As ye ken, they are few in number with very rich lands."

"So, we meet their laird and make a negotiation to use some of their lands."

"Ach, there is a much better option, Laird MacNeil," Munro grinned. "We attack them and take their lands. We share the harvest equally, and if the heavens will it, then we take some of their women too."

Kendrick stilled. Munro was a monster. Attacking a peaceful clan was never justifiable—unless a laird was seeking a bloodbath. "Attack the Mackenzie clan, ye say?"

"Aye." Munro nodded. "It will bring the best of benefit to us."

Nae. This man is the devil's own spawn.

Kendrick didn't know whether he hid his shock well or if Munro simply didn't care to look for it. Logan looked even in more surprise than he felt, his mouth agape.

"Laird Munro." His hands gripped around the armrests of his seat. "Naeone, nae even ye shall attack the Mackenzie clan."

Munro's face twisted. "What do ye mean to say, lad?"

"It means, we shall nae be attacking a neighboring clan for sport," Kendrick snapped. "We need to find another solution than stealing and killing innocent people with whom we have fair relations."

"MacNeil, if ye suggest using our borderlands once more, I will nae accept it."

"So, ye prefer to kill and steal than allow us to use the land that is rightfully ours."

"Aye. My way shall benefit us more. What is another clan to me if our people starve to death?"

"That other clan are mothers, fathers, husbands, wives, sons and daughters whose lives matter as much as our peoples' do."

Munro stood up, the abrupt movement shaking the desk. "If ye will nae join me, then leave it be," he growled. "I will take the lands myself."

"Ye will do nae such thing." Kendrick's hand slammed against the table as he rose from his chair. "If ye near their village, I will make ye pay for it. Terribly."

"Is that a threat?"

"It can count as one if ye dare lift even a finger to those innocent people. This is nae the way things shall go."

Munro spat on the ground and turned away. He stormed out of the study without a word. Kendrick fell into his chair in disbelief, his pulse racing like mad. "That man is more beast than human."

"It pains me to say it, lad, but I agree with ye." Logan pushed the stool and tea away. "There is no use discussing things now. Not when ye look like ye do—red all over. Take a walk, milaird. We will talk later."

"Aye," Kendrick grizzled. He rose abruptly and left the office.

Once outside, he took only two steps before halting. Catherine was talking to Munro. He edged toward them enough to hear their voices, draped in shadow.

"My name is Catherine, milaird," Catherine said to Munro, provoking his laughter. "I'm a maid at this here keep of Laird MacNeil."

A mocking, disparaging chuckle followed. Catherine lost her spark, reminded of her lower position once more by the sound of his belittling.

"Do ye find it amusing that I am Laird MacNeil's maid?"

"Far from that," Munro quieted. "What amuses me is that a servant dared to stop me on the way." He clapped his hands together, and Catherine jumped. "A servant who is a lass and from the MacNeil's clan at that. Ye are quite bold, I must say."

"This lass and servant apologize for her brazenness, Laird Munro," Catherine muttered. "It seems ye dinnae take a liking to my clan."

"I dinnae think horribly o' yer clan, lass," Laird Munro revealed. "Tis yer laird I dinnae take a liking to."

"Is that so, milaird? Ye dinnae take a liking to Laird MacNeil?"

"Lass, I dinnae have the time to discuss this with ye. Politics is nae for women," Munro ran his finger over Catherine's bosom. "I'd rather have ye dancing naked in my chamber at night—"

Kendrick cleared his throat, drawing both their attentions. He could feel his stomach churn from disgust at Munro's rudeness.

"Milaird!" Catherine's eyes widened in horror when she noticed him, but he ignored her. She was not his concern.

"Perhaps, Munro, ye should leave to yer clan now."

"I had nae intention o' staying longer, MacNeil." Munro threw daggers at Kendrick before turning on his heel.

"What're ye doing, Catherine?" Kendrick asked while she was still standing before him, not moving even an inch. "Are ye nae leaving as well?"

"I've come to collect the tray from yer study, milaird."

He nodded, and with nothing more to say, he walked back to his study with the maid following closely behind him. When they reached the study, his uncle was no longer there. As soon as the door closed, Kendrick saw the hungry look in Catherine's eyes, and he felt tired of her games. He pushed her away gently trying not to hurt her feelings, knowing that her constant need for attention was draining.

"Catherine, ye should nae do that."

"I am sorry." Her gaze fell to the floor. "I thought ye may desire it as much as I do. At least, before it was always like that. I was what you wanted…"

"I cannae do this anymore, please," Kendrick told her sternly. "Ye should pick up the tray and leave." She hurriedly picked up the tray and went with a lowered head towards the door.

"One more thing," he said before she crossed into the hallway, which summoned a huge smile to her face. He felt sorry for her. She must have been thinking he would accept her advances.

"Aye, milaird, what is it?" she asked excitedly.

"This. Us," Kendrick took a short break before finishing his sentence. "We will nae entertain such folly anymore. We cannae continue as we have been. Ye will nae visit me."

His words obviously weren't what Catherine had anticipated hearing. He knew it. Her earlier excitement completely disappeared. Her lips were quivering.

"Why, milaird?" Tears were starting to drip down her face. "Did I do something wrong?

"Nae, Catherine," Kendrick reassured her. "I am sorry if ye were expecting more from me."

"I will nae complain, milaird," she said. "I will come to yer chamber whenever ye ask. I will nae do anything without asking first. I will—"

"Tis nae that," he interjected, his conscious prickling him as he knew he was making her sad. He did not love her, but he cared for her. She was, after all, from his clan, and they had shared a bed together many nights. "I dinnae want to explain myself to ye. We simply cannae continue on, but it has naething to do with ye and everything to do with me."

"Tis fine, milaird." She brushed away her tears and mustered a sad little smile. She turned away, before saying, "I had forgotten, milaird. Sir Reed asked that I call ye."

"Reed?" Kendrick asked. "Where is he?"

"He's at the stable, milaird."

"Is he tending to the horses?"

"Aye, milaird, he is."

"But his arms are nae in a good shape. He should be tending to naething," Kendrick mumbled, perplexed by his friend's stubbornness. "I will join him at the stable. Ye can leave now."

"And ye, Catherine," Kendrick blurted out as she opened the door. "I dinnae want to see ye near Munro ever again."

"Aye, milaird," Catherine answered before scurrying away.

Sophia and Lorena sat down on Sophia's large bed. The quilt was embroidered with dahlias and red roses. Sophia ignored her sister'ssighs, concentrating on the book on herbsshe was reading.

"Milady," Catherine announced before entering the room.

"Catherine." Lorena smiled sitting upright. "Is it me yer looking for?"

"Aye, milady. Ye were nae in yer chamber next door."

"I told ye," Lorena said. "Ye dinnae have to call me milady . I am fine with ye calling me by my name."

"Tis nae allowed," Catherine objected. "The Laird will have my head if he hears such disrespect."

"But we are alone! He will nae ken unless ye tell him."

"Still, I think it best I do not challenge him, milady."

Sophia was distracted from her reading. "Perhaps she is right, Lorena," Sophia interjected, nervously playing with a page of the book in her hands. "Ye ken it may cause trouble for her. Leave her be."

"If ye insist," Lorena dropped her back to the bed. "Is there a reason yer here?"

After a nod, Catherine continued, "Sir Reed requests yer presence."

"Where is he?" Lorena rolled off the bed.

"He's at the stable, milady," Catherine went on. "He was tending to the horses."

Sophia dropped the book she was reading. "Why does Reed wish to see Lorena alone at the stable?"

"I dinnae ken," Catherine added. "He merely requested that I deliver the message."

"But it makes nae sense that he would ask to see ye."

"Ye worry too much, sister." Lorena put her hand on Sophia's shoulder. "He must only wish to talk to his future Lady of the Clan," she grimaced.

"Well, Lorena," Sophia picked her book up again. "Ye should learn to worry a little sometimes."

Lorena chuckled and turned to the maid. "Tell him I shall join him soon."

"Do ye need help getting dressed, milady?" Catherine asked.

"Nae." Lorena smiled. "Ye may go now."

And with an impish grin, Catherine did just that.