‘Nail one outside every tavern and square in Inverness, outside the gaol and here at the stocks,’ said Callum.
‘Aye, if you like, but no good will come of it. Folk fear the Baron more than they covet coin, Master,’ muttered Greaves.
‘Painting yourself a leader of men, are you, Ross?’ came a sneering voice.
Hew Gordon stood before him with a party of ladies in tow, including Fenella and the simpering milksop, Jennet Ferguson. She gazed up at Callum with a little smile, which did nothing to offset her weak chin and watery blue eyes.
He ignored the ladies and glowered at Hew. ‘I am more of a leader than you will ever be, Hew Gordon. Run along.’
Hew looked around at the ladies, relishing his audience. ‘It is laughable, really. I doubt a villain like the Baron will be worried about a price on his head.’
‘How do you know, Hew?’ growled Callum. ‘Are you intimately acquainted with him?’
‘I know nothing of the man but this. He is ruthless enough to be flattered by such attention rather than fear it.’
‘Well, he’ll be getting lots more of it when his corpse swings from the gibbet at Laggan Moor crossroads. Every passer-by will see that the fruits of thievery is death.’
‘We shall see,’ snorted Hew with a laugh.
Callum took a step forward. ‘Your father’s estate at Machrie seems to have escaped the worst of the Baron’s villainy. I wonder why?'
Hew frowned. ‘We have been fortunate, aye. But we are also vigilant.’ He put his face into Callum’s and sneered, ‘We are not distracted in our duty to protect our tenants by carousing with whores.’
Callum put his chest into Hew’s. ‘Say that again.’
Hew reddened. ‘I do not have time to linger with the likes of you. Ladies, we will leave Laird Ross to his plotting,’ he declared.
Callum grabbed Hew by his fine jacket. ‘Say it again. Go on.’
Jennet gave a little shriek of excitement, and the other ladies gasped into their hands.
‘Unhand me, Ross, and remember your manners. There are ladies present,’ sputtered Hew.
‘Lucky for you, else I’d knock you on your arse in front of the whole of Inverness and leave you wriggling in the mud and shit like the worm you are.’
Hew tried to pluck Callum’s fingers from his jacket, but Callum shook him hard and then flung him backwards. He fell up against a passing cart and bounced off it back into the throng of ladies.
‘You are a madman,’ Hew shouted, straightening his lapels. ‘I could have fallen under the wheels and been crushed to death.’
‘More’s the pity, you weren’t,’ said Callum.
With one last glare, Hew Gordon took off across the square in a fearful hurry, with the ladies following on like a flock of clucking hens. But Jennet lingered.
Callum was still boiling with rage when she sauntered over to him.
‘I fear Hew was insolent, and he deserved your scorn. And I think you are marvellous to come to the aid of the poor folk.’ She slid her fingers down his arm. ‘Thank goodness, we have good strong men like you to protect us in these times.’
Jennet gazed into his eyes in what she thought was a seductive manner, and Callum lost patience. ‘I am wed, woman,’ he said, removing her hand from his arm.
‘Not happily, gossip would have it.’
‘Happier than if I was wed to you, lass.’
‘Well, I never!’ she declared.
Callum stalked away to the sound of her outrage. Once, he might have considered a dim-witted woman like Jennet Ferguson as a possible bride, but she would never have made his heart pound just by smiling at him or made his loins ache to join with hers. And she would never have Tara’s sense of loyalty or her determination to surmount her troubles. Callum hastened to his horse and set off for Raigmoor at a gallop.
***