The Highlander's Secret(42)

“Aye, my laird.”

Duncan bowed and disappeared back down the hall, leaving Jain and Alan in the council room. A new kind of fear raced through her, knowing Alan would be in danger. Men went off to battle all the time, but never the one she loved.

“What about the village? If ye take all the warriors, we’ll be defenseless,” Jain sputtered.

Keenan sighed. “I’ll leave a handful of them behind. While I’m gone yer father will be in charge. He’s the next in line fer chieftain and I trust his judgement.”

“Be careful,” she pleaded.

Keenan nodded, his eyes trailing down to where Jain and Alan were holding hands. “Was there something else ye wanted to discuss?” he asked them with a smile.

She wanted to respond, but the words didn’t come out naturally.

“It can wait,” Alan told him. “The safety of our village comes first.”

The chieftain nodded with approval. “When I can back, Jain, ye and I will have a talk. I’m sure we have many things to discuss.”





Chapter Nineteen


Keenan frowned, walking down the hall after leaving the council chambers. His footsteps echoed down the stone corridor with his thoughts already prepared for battle tactic after the news came from a rider in the west. The poor MacLeod village was in desperate need of help. Men of the village were growing restless with the increasing attacks growing ever closer – he was running out of options.

He thought back to Jain, his sweet niece, who had come running in with the blacksmith. Her eyes had been wide with fear and it was evident on her face that she was terrified. It was no wonder she was concerned after the things that happened to her parents in that settlement on the coast. She would be sure to have painful memories about it and fear reliving them once again.

Keenan had always been fond of her after Eamon and Moira took her in, she was a ray of sunshine in their otherwise simple lives. Still, he’d always had suspicions about her lineage. There were too many things about the massacre that troubled him. For one, there had been no boats which was curious for a port town that would have needed them to fish. Another thing was that it had taken months for Jain to speak after they brought her to Elign. At first, he supposed it could be that fear had taken root and scared her voice away, but it was equally likely that she had not yet learned their language.

Still, Keenan bit his tongue out of love for Eamon and chose to ignore those doubts.

It turned out those suspicions were confirmed many years ago when meeting with the chieftain of the neighboring clans. One of them boasted loudly over a pint of ale how they had dispatched of a Viking settlement on the coast. Keenan became instantly intrigued and pressed him further on the subject. The man continued, saying they had left no survivors and burned the cottages to the ground. It was around the same time that his brother had rescued Jain. He didn’t know if Eamon had figured out her secret for himself, but he chose not to broach the subject with him personally. If Eamon didn’t know, then telling him would break his brother’s heart. And if he did, Keenan trusted him to never bring it up. After how long he and Moira had longed to have a child of their own, Jain came like the answer to a prayer. What kind of brother would he be if he broke that illusion for them, if he pointed out she was a Norseman? By all appearances Eamon did not care, and that’s all Keenan needed to know.

She was just a child, and clearly no threat to their way of life. Over the years he watched her closely to see if she bore any ill will toward them, but Jain was loving and sweet in every sense of the word.

When the Viking raids started up again, he briefly worried it would be a problem. He wondered if it could be her kinsmen coming back for her at last, but he rejected the idea because it had been so long since she arrived. What reasons could they have for coming back now?

They had to be unrelated.

“Get the horses ready,” he commanded one of the guards. “When we receive a call fer help it is our duty to respond.”

“My laird, is that really our best option?” a man replied.

Keenan turned to him and scowled. “Of course it is. Where do ye think the Vikings will come next if that village falls?”

The warrior’s face turned red as he bowed and ran off the other direction. As their chieftain, he tried to respect the communal voice of his people, but there were times when they simply did not understand the greater scope of what was happening.

Eamon walked beside him, making their way towards the armory. “What preparations would ye like me to make while the men are gone?” he asked.

Keenan huffed. “Make sure there is plenty of food and clean beds waiting. I dinnae want any wounded warriors to go without care.”

“As ye wish, my laird.”

The chieftain smiled and placed his hand on Eamon’s shoulder. “While I am gone, Eamon. I leave everything to ye. There is nae one better suited to lead our Clan.”

“It’s a heavy burden ye place on me,” he muttered.

“Aye, but I ken ye’re up to the task.”

The edge of his mouth turned up into a grin. “Moira will not be pleased. She’s grown rather accustomed to the cottage.”

“She’ll have to adjust.”

“Aye, hopefully it will not be fer long. Come back victorious and I’ll make sure everything remains intact.”