“Done,” McDonald pronounced. He rubbed his hands in glee and his eyes gleamed triumphantly.
Ewan rose from his seat. “No time like the present.”
McDonald leaped from his chair and gestured for one of his commanders. Then he peered suspiciously back at Ewan.
“You and your brothers aren’t allowed to participate. Only your men. Soldier against soldier.”
Ewan smiled lazily. “If that’s what you prefer. I would not have a man under my command if he weren’t as worthy as I am with a sword.”
“I shall enjoy raiding your stores when my men prove their mettle,” McDonald crowed.
Ewan kept his smile and motioned for McDonald to precede him from the hall.
When McDonald hurried out to his men, Alaric hung back. “Ewan, are you giving consideration to this marriage business?”
Ewan eyed his younger brother. “Are you telling me you’re not?”
Alaric frowned. “Nay, it isn’t at all what I’m saying. But hell, Ewan, I’ve no desire to be saddled with a bride.”
“ ’Tis a good opportunity for you, Alaric. You would be laird of your own clan. You’d have lands and sons to hand that legacy down to.”
“Nay,” Alaric said quietly. “This is my clan. Not the McDonalds.”
Ewan put his hand on Alaric’s shoulder. “We’ll always be your clan. But think. My brother will be my closest neighbor. We’ll be allies. If you stay here, you can never be laird. Your heir will never be laird. You should grab on to this with both hands.”
Alaric sighed. “But marriage?”
“She’s a bonnie lass,” Ewan pointed out.
“Pretty enough, I suppose,” Alaric grunted. “I couldn’t see much of her face during the meal because she had it pointed down the entire time.”
“There’ll be plenty of time to see her face. Besides, ’tis not the face you need to concern yourself with. ’Tis the rest.”
Alaric laughed and then looked quickly around. “Better not let your bride hear you say that. You might be sleeping with your men tonight.”
“Are you ready, Ewan?” McDonald boomed across the courtyard.
Ewan held up his hand. “Aye, I’m ready.”
“What on earth are they doing?” Mairin asked as she heard the roar from the courtyard.
Crispen grabbed her hand and tugged her toward the hill. “Let’s go up the hill so we can see!”
The other children followed suit and soon they stood atop the hill. Mairin shielded her face from the sun so she could see the goings-on below.
“They’re fighting!” Crispen exclaimed.
Mairin’s eyes widened at the sight of so many warriors gathered in a tight circle. In the middle stood two soldiers, one a McCabe and one a McDonald.
“Why, that’s Gannon,” she whispered. “Why is Gannon fighting the McDonald soldier?”
“ ’Tis the way of things,” Crispen boasted. “Men fight. Women tend the hearth.”
Gretchen punched Crispen in the arm and gave him a fierce glare. Robbie in turn shoved Gretchen.
Mairin frowned and stared down at him. “Your father told you that, no doubt.”
“Uncle Caelen did.”
She rolled her eyes. Why didn’t that surprise her?
“But why are they fighting?” she persisted.
“ ’Tis a wager, my lady!”
Mairin turned to see Maddie heading up the hill, several of the McCabe women on her heels. They carried a basket between them.
“What wager?” she asked, as the women approached.
Maddie plunked the basket down and the rich smell of bread wafted through the air. Despite the splendid meal in which she had partaken, Mairin put a hand to her rumbling stomach.
The children leaned forward eagerly, their expressions hopeful as they circled Maddie.
“Our laird and Laird McDonald have a wager as to whose men can best the other,” Maddie said, as she began passing out bread to the women now sitting on the ground. Then she passed a hunk to each of the children. She motioned to Mairin. “Join us, my lady. We thought to have a picnic and cheer the McCabe warriors on.”
Mairin settled onto the ground, spreading her skirts about her legs. Crispen plopped down next to her and began devouring his treat. Mairin took a piece of the bread and tore a piece off. As she placed the bit to her lips, she frowned. “What’s the wager?”
Maddie smiled. “Our laird is cunning! He wagered three months’ stock of food. If the McCabes win, we’ll collect meat and spices from the McDonald stores.”
Mairin’s mouth gaped open. “But we don’t have three months’ stock of food!”
Bertha nodded sagely. “Exactly. He wagered the thing we need the most. ’Twas brilliant and well thought out of him.”