Page 98 of The Laird’s Lost Wife

Hunter brought his closed fist down on the table once more, making all the papers and goblets jump in the air. The councilmen jumped too. The milksop flinched, squeaking, and Peter paled, his jaw closing tight.

Slowly, Hunter uncurled his fist and straightened his aching fingers.

“The next man to suggest such a thing about Lady Daphne must be prepared for the consequences,” he murmured, his tone light and conversational. “I willnae hear her name spoken of in such a way. There are nay aspersions to be cast on Willow’s parentage. I claim her. She is mine, and that’s the end of it.”

“He’s right,” Donald mumbled. “The wee girl is almost his spitting image.”

Peter’s face darkened. “So ye maintain that ye broke yer vow, me Laird?”

Hunter rose abruptly to his feet and was faintly gratified to see him flinch. “We are going round in circles,” he said heavily. “Ye all ken the vow is broken. Half broken,” he added, seeing the milksop open his mouth to speak again. “But it will be fully broken in two days’ time, when I marry Lady Daphne.”

“That is the honorable thing to do,” Donald conceded in a low voice.

A few nods of agreement followed.

“Aye,” Hunter continued, slowly circling the table, “I admit me fault. Oathbreaker is nay light word. I have served this clan to the best of me ability for years. Ye all ken this. I kept me vow. I made the vow in the first place to show all of ye and the rest of me people that ye are me first priority. Ye think that’ll change with a wife and child? It willnae. I am a laird, nae a tyrant. Nay English king am I.”

That elicited a ripple of laughter. Not everybody laughed, of course. Peter remained stony-faced, as did Edward. But Hunter continued speaking, circling the table still.

“I have done everything for this clan. Shed blood, both me own and others’. Blood, sweat, tears—everything. I will continue to do so. And I want ye to think of something.”

The councilmen glanced expectantly at each other. Some frowned, some sat back and folded their arms, some sat forward and licked their lips.

“Would any of ye have done differently?” Hunter asked lightly. “For the past five years, with me vow unknowingly broken, did I change? Nay, ye all ken I didnae. I am committed to me duties as Laird. Ye all ken this to be true. So, once again, I’m asking ye this.”

He circled the table once more, before coming to a stop at his chair. Leaning forward, he rested his fists on the old wood, worn smooth by time. He glanced from face to face and broke into a slow smile.

“Which of ye thinks he can do better?”

Silence greeted him.

After a long moment, he settled back down in his chair and let out a long sigh.

“The vote, then,” he decreed tiredly. “Let’s get it over with, eh?”

Donald broke the silence first. “Let’s make this quick and simple. Every man here kens what has gone on. We’ve all assessed the facts and drawn our own conclusions before we ever stepped into the room. So, who believes that Laird MacCrimmon should keep his position?”

Hands shot up. Hunter glanced around the table, a knot loosening in his chest. Donald put his hand up. So did the milksop. So did one… two… three… six more men.

A majority. An easy majority.

“And who is against?” Donald asked, to be thorough.

Nobody’s hand went up, of course. Not after the majority voted in Hunter’s favor. But the other men, the four who hadn’t voted for him, glanced uneasily at each other.

“That’s it, then,” Hunter said crisply.

He rose to his feet and smiled grimly around the table. “I’m grateful to all of ye. I am glad that some of ye support me, and I daenae resent those who daenae. I’ll prove meself to me people, daenae fear. And, of course, in the meantime, ye are all invited to me wedding.”

A ripple of nervous laughter followed.

Hunter flashed a smile and strode out of the council chambers without a backward glance. Conversation erupted at once, and he was thoroughly glad not to be part of it.

The tap on his bedroom door was so soft that at first, he didn’t think that anyone was there. Then it came again, more firmly.

He rolled off his bed. His chest was still tight. It had been hours since the council meeting, but the anxiety lingered.

The councilmen who’d turned against him would not enjoy being outvoted. They’d consider it a humiliation. And if they believed he was truly an oathbreaker, then now they would view him with skepticism.