“Where are ye?” Faolan demanded once more. “Are ye going to make me hunt ye down like a damned rodent? I’ll pull ye out of whatever burrow ye try to hide in!”
The assembled Retainers made an approving sound. It was half growl, half cheer.
And very male.
“Ye will not fight over me,” Cora protested.
But several of the women came up from where they were watching from the safety of the opening into the great hall. They encircled Cora and carried her back with them.
“I will know his name!” Faolan was still waiting. “Every McKay suffers when we do nae remember that a complaint against one of us is a complaint against us all. We are only as strong as our bond to one another.
A cheer filled the hall.
Faolan looked around at his men. “I’ve no tolerance for scheming. There will be a court held every other Friday, if you have a case to be heard. I may not be polished, but I swear I will die before I shame the name of McKay.”
The hall filled with the sound of men pounding on the tabletops in approval.
There was a scuffle as a man was pushed forward. The Retainers formed a wall behind him. Faolan faced him.
“So…ye are the one.”
Faolan jumped off the table. There was a shift as tables and chairs were pulled aside to afford Faolan a place to face off with the man.
He spit on the floor. “Aye. I’m Bayrd, and I say ye are bastard born. Malcolm has two legitimate daughters. The next laird should come from them for their mother was from a royal bloodline.”
“Cora Mackenzie is from fine stock as well,” Faolan argued.
“She is a witch,” Bayrd accused. “I stood in the gatehouse and watched the way she called in the storm. Walking across the wall in naught but wet linen. The cold didnae touch her at all! Everyone knows a witch does nae need to be warm! Since she has enchanted ye, I went to the Church for the good of everyone. She has ye by yer balls.”
Cora felt her breath freeze in her throat. The accusation was a harsh one. Words such as that could get her burned. The young king had a taste for hunting witches.
Faolan sent the man reeling with a solid blow across his jaw.
“As I told ye, I am not polished, but I know a storm for what it is,” Faolan raised his voice, so it was heard throughout the great hall. “It’s past Samhain now. The storm was winter settling in, not witchery.”
Bayrd gained his feet quickly. “Are ye saying ye do nae believe in witches?”
There was a shifting in the hall. Men leaned closer to hear Faolan’s answer.
“I do nae believe in looking to assign blame for every bit of poor luck that comes my way. Life is hard. Only a child expects to be given what they need without having to face challenges. I am alive because I did no’ sit around licking me wounds. Move to England if ye want fair weather.”
Cora bit her lower lip. It seemed an eternity before there were sounds of approval moving through the assembled McKay.
It might had gone the other way.
Bayrd grunted. “So, are ye going to banish me to the towers now?”
“The towers are our first defense against invasion,” Faolan declared. “Only the most loyal of men and women will serve there. Malcolm was a fool to send the discontented there.”
There was another round of pounding on the table.
“While I am laird, whoever serves a year at the towers will be considered next for promotion in rank. Women as well. For the person who guards me back during the winter is the one I want next to me in this stronghold. You…” Faolan pointed at the man, “will be tossed out of this stronghold for spouting nonsense designed to frighten everyone. Spend the winter minding the sheep. If ye can find some sense, ye may keep the McKay colors.”
There was a round of approval. Faolan climbed back onto the table.
“I will hear no more tales of witchery! Each man will face his life with courage!”
It was a bold statement. One which could so easily end in the priests cutting the clan off from the sacrament. Such an action spelled doom for any laird, for the people would rise up in rebellion. But the McKay pounded the tabletops as the women in the kitchens added their cries of delight to the moment.
Cora found herself struck dumb as she watched Faolan standing there surrounded by the people who Noreen and Malcolm had worked so hard to turn against him.
He was their laird now.
Tears burned her eyes, and she didn’t fight them. Faolan found her, looking over his men to gaze at her. They were the same in so many ways. Both striving for acceptance while being unwilling to compromise on earning their way.
She was proud to be his wife.
*
Gilmor sat in the great hall with the rest of the Retainers. Maids began to bring in the meal for them to break their fast. It was hot porridge with honey and leftover sliced bread from the day before. There were pitchers of fresh milk from the morning milking that were passed around with large grins, for they all knew the cows would go dry soon.
“He’s a decent laird.”
“His words were fair enough.”
“I’ve no stomach for those who cry witchery.”
“Better to have good sense in this hall.”
Gilmor ground his teeth and kept his opinion to himself. What gave him hope was the fact that he was not alone. There would always be those who waited silently to see how the power shifted. The McKay were no different. Some men liked to talk. Others listened.
Gilmor planned.
*
The McKay laird could go rot for all she cared!
Cora slammed her fist into the closed door and heard Faolan chuckling.
She pulled the door open. “I will nae stay in here!”
She’d shouted before she got a look at the other side of the door. Four burly Retainers were crowded onto the landing now. None of them was young enough for her to talk them into doing her bidding either. The oldest one reached up to tug on the corner of his cap.
“No disrespect intended, Mistress, but ye will be staying in the solar.”
The Retainer offered her no remorse as he firmly shut the door.
Cora smothered her growl as she turned and looked around the chamber.
The ladies’ solar.
It was a place Cora had spent a great deal of effort on avoiding. Intended for the elite females of a household, it was a place for the cultivation of feminine arts.
Aye, and a prison to keep daughters in before their weddings.
Ye’re being perverse. Just because ye have no love for sewing, does nae make a solar a prison…
Cora grunted in response to her inner voice. Sometimes, it was very annoyingly correct.
And ye are stuck here…so…
So, she’d best set her mind to making the most of her circumstances. She propped her hands on her hips and looked around.
Noreen’s taste for excess was evident everywhere. The solar took up an entire floor in one of the towers. It was round and had an abundance of windows. Each one was set with costly glass panes, so the windows might be opened even in winter. Between those windows, tapestries were hung to cover the plain stone of the walls.
Cora ventured closer to one, marveling at the workmanship. Beneath her feet, there was another tapestry. Not as intricate, but it was fuzzy. There were looms for embroidery and a harp if she had a mind to work on her music skills. A large wardrobe stood across the room. Cora opened the door to find lengths of fine hemp fabric for smocks and shirts. The bundles of fabric represented a small fortune because of how hard it was to produce.