Claiming the Highlander by Mageela Troche Read Free Book Online

if he were being charming, but he only seemed to be disdainful.
    “Wherever my wife is, that is where I need to be. I will not have her questioned before the council. If you ever wish to speak with her, I must be present.”
    “Ye think to mak’ demands of the council. We are ’ere to follow the laird’s wants an’ wishes an’ protect this clan.” Tavish’s words held a chill.
    “From the future laird? Nonsense.”
    “Ye ha’en’t been ’ere.” Tavish jabbed a finger against his knee.
    “Aye, but the clan’s future lies with me. The Earl of Wester Ross and Chief of the MacKenzies.”
    “Na yet Laird—yer father shal’ hear of yer disturbance.” Tavish fisted his hands.
    “Running to him with every worry will hasten his death.” Caelen’s back teeth grounded.
    “Enough,” Finian said, as he cut his arms through the air. “Let’s focus on the issue demandin’ our attention. My lady, the laird wishes us to address yer most pressin’ duty.” A red flush spread across his face. “An heir.”
    Her ears burned and her mouth dried. “I am aware of my duty. I do not require a lecture.”
    “Well, one needs to be produced soon.”
    “Forgive me, Gilroy, but my husband has only arrived and nine months are necessary for me to produce a son…if that. Are you asking for us to share our bedroom habits with the council or perhaps oversee the consummation? Nay.” She looked each man in the eye and then inclined her head. “Very well, that is enough about that particular duty of mine.”
    Brenna dropped her husband’s arm and stepped away.
    “’Tis nat all, my lady.” Finian motioned her back.
    She was very close to making a regal exit.
    “My lady, are ye”—he licked his lips—“tryin’?”
    Her eyes bugged out her head.
    “Do not put such questions to my wife.”
    Brenna nodded. Her ears rang from the boom of Caelen’s voice. She turned to walk away again before she sputtered out the tirade building in her throat.
    “A messenger arrived frae ye father. Tis fae ye.”
    “Where is he?”
    “In the kitchen, fillin’ his belly. Ye will tell us wat he says to ye,” Tavish said.
    Brenna sputtered.
    “That is not necessary,” Caelen pronounced.
    Gilroy sent one of the guards to the kitchen. “Caelen, isn’t it only right we know what is happening?”
    “And you shall when you must.”
    The messenger walked in and stretched out the letter to her. With a shaky hand, she pinched the edge between two fingers. She clutched it between her hands, crinkling the paper. With a tremor in her throat, she said, “If that is all…” Brenna moved forward.
    “Nay, my lady.”
    She let out a frustrated sigh.
    Tavish waved his hand. A guard went outside. It took all of Brenna’s very thin control not to look toward the door. The Great Hall door opened. Neacal, the laird’s commander, strolled in. Brenna schooled her face. His presence explained why he had been watching her and Caelen.
    “Neacal has informed us that the Grants are causing tension among the clan.”
    “How is this tension being caused?” The menacing quality of Caelen’s voice chilled her.
    Neacal narrowed his eyes. If Brenna hadn’t been watching closely, she would have missed it. “They keep themselves apart, an’ the clan feels that ’tis unfair they are workin’ MacKenzie land. They believe it shod be used by the clan folk.”
    “They believe,” Caelen repeated.
    “My lady, instruct these men to endear themselves to our members.”
    Finian’s words raised her hackles. “And how will I do that? Have them stop working the land the laird bestowed upon them? Or let the clan folk order them about instead of welcoming them into the clan as the laird promised me? If that is all, I will be in my chamber—and do not call me back.”
    This time, Brenna left. She made her way to her chamber, the letter pressed to her chest. She climbed to the center of the bed. The ropes creaked under her as she squirmed to get comfortable. She