Caelan recoiled, feeling small. He should not have said such awful things. Aside from his brothers, there was no one with whom he shared a closer relationship.
No one except the girl he had insulted.
He clenched his fists, willing the memory of his words away. Yet as he glanced about the hall, his mind hardened. He was cruel, but it was necessary. The sooner he dispelled the rumors about himself and Eilidh, the better.
The hall reminded him of all that was at stake, all he represented. His family needed him. Though Evan would rather die than admit it, Caelan noticed the toll it took to keep the brigands and other clans from invading their keep. Their supplies were diminishing albeit gradually. In the coming months, they would have to increase the taxes on their already strained villagers.
But there was more. On his last trip to a distant village, Caelan had gotten information from the passing traders there. After the men had recognized his crest, one of them had asked for the gold ring on Caelan’s smallest digit.
“Why dae ye want this?” he had asked the man.
“To propose to me lass. I wanted to buy her one on me travels, but I havenae found any. That one will suit her perfectly. She willnae have the heart to reject me proposal.”
“Ye have to keep lookin’ because this is nae for sale.” Caelan had given his stead a soft kick so they could continue on their way. “Yer books are not worth me ring.”
“I wager ye will want what I ken.” The cunning in the man’s voice stopping him.
“What is it?”
“Sire, ye have to pay first.”
“Or I could cut off one finger at a time until you speak.”
The man blanched but recovered his wits just as quickly. Caelan suspected one needed to be ruthless in these parts. “Ye willnae dae that,” the trader had said. “The tales of ye and yer brothers precede ye. However, if ye want my valuable information, all I ask is that ring as payment. Pity a man who’s been after a lass for years with nae luck. I’m nae exactly young anymore, ye ken.”
Caelan had debated whether he should risk it. If it turned out that the man had nothing worthwhile to relay, he would have lost a precious gift.
“Tell me, and I will see about yer payment,” he decided anyway.
The trader was twisting his fingers with a hungry look in his eyes. “Nae, sire. I must have yer word.”
Caelan scoffed. “Ye’re testin’ me patience… but fine, ye have me word.”
The man grinned. “There is a laird who plans to infiltrate Clan Graham’s keep and attack it. He is currently preparing his men for the attack. I have heard things about him, and I promise, yer clan willnae stand against him for long.”
This was old news, who had spent the better part of his life warding off attacks. But hewascurious about this new Laird.
“Who is he?”
“Oh nae, sire. His name will cost ye more than the ring. Perhaps… ye could purchase more books?”
Without a word, Caelan kicked his mount and rode it away from him.
“Sire!Sire! Ye gave yer word!”
“Aye! I gave ye mewordbut nae mering!” Caelan cried behind him, throwing over his shoulder a small bag of coins.
In Caelan’s haste to bring the books back to Eilidh, he had pushed that piece of information from his mind. However, when the news of the cloaked man had reached him, the memory returned. Attacks on the keep were expected. Most of them were conducted by unorganized brigands who tried their luck.
No laird would attempt to fight Evan knowing the Graham clan’s reputation as fierce battle masters and Caelan knew he would look like a fool if he went to his brother with a mere story. It could have been a ploy by the trader to secure the ring. Caelan did not want to risk losing his brothers’ respect.
But if hedidn’ttell him, and it turned out to be true…
He could only nudge Evan toward strengthening their defenses, which required depleting resources. They would be doomed unless one of the brothers formed an unbreakable alliance with another powerful clan. Arran was far from prepared to marry. Evan was settled. Caelan was left to make the difficult decision of selecting an heiress or a lady whose father would back them up in a heartbeat.
He couldnotlet his fleeting infatuation for Eilidh blind him to his vow—his duty. He had resisted her perfectly well so far. He had never touched her, never kissed her… though each year was more agonizing than the last. He needed to lock away his feelings, his jealousy, and do what was right.
But then he remembered what he had seen in the kitchens. Caelan slammed his fists into the wooden armory bench with a curse. The blinding pain managed to blur that image in his mind.