Suzanne Barclay - Lion's Lady

But then, the Gunns did everything to excess, thought Rowena as she surveyed the mess and swiftly calculated the cost in food, drink and broken furniture.

“’Tis a grand send-off we’re giving him, eh?” Finlay Gunn shouted above the din. “Cousin Padruig would have loved this.”

Seated beside the old warrior at the head table, Rowena, widowed four days and terrified at what lay before her, let loose her temper. “He’d have enjoyed it a bit more had he been alive to do so. Damn him,” she snapped. “Where had he gone? Why was he riding about alone?”

“Clan business,” said Finlay, who was the only one Padruig had ever confided in. “Ye know what store he set by duty,”

“Duty!” She spat the word out like a curse. “Men wave that banner about as though it was handed down from God, but ‘tis only an excuse to go adventuring.” The memory of Lion’s long-ago desertion twisted sharp as a knife in her chest. Though she would never forgive Lion Sutherland, she’d tried hard to forget him. Padruig’s death, his desertion, had brought it all back: the pain, the fear and, aye, the anger. They roiled inside her, stinging like salt in a fresh wound. “’Tis the women and children who pay the price while you men go off to pursue your duty.”

“Easy, lass.” Finlay laid a scarred hand on her arm. “I ken ye’re grieving for Padruig and worried about what the next years will bring, but there’s no need to carry on so.”

Oh, but there was. Shivering, Rowena sagged against the high-backed chair, a smaller version of Padruig’s mammoth one to her right. She cast a sidelong glance at the chair’s occupant—the new chief of Clan Gunn. Paddy, her five-year-old son.

The red head of hair that seemed to mark him as a Gunn was bent over his plate as he toyed with an oatcake. His sweet face was in profile to her—rounded cheeks, a stubborn jaw and a nose he’d need to grow into. The nose handed down from Lucais Sutherland to Lion and thence to Paddy.

He was so young, so precious, so vulnerable. She’d do anything to protect him. Anything.

Her gaze shifted to the man on Paddy’s other side.

Eneas’s face was also in profile—harsh, lean and predatory. Padruig had warned her often of his brother’s ambitions to rule the clan. Now the only thing that stood between Eneas and his goal was her Paddy. Suddenly Rowena was afraid, more afraid than she’d been in years. What if Padruig had not been set upon and murdered by thieves? What if Eneas had killed him? What if he planned to eliminate her son as well?

A crockery cup flew past her nose and smashed against the floor inches from Padruig’s bier, drawing her attention from the past to the dangerous present. Even in death, Padruig looked harsh and indomitable, his craggy features set in disapproval, his red-gray brows bunched in a frown over his broad nose. She had not loved him. She could never love anyone again, but Padruig had sheltered and protected her. Till now...

“I have to keep Paddy safe,” she said under her breath.

“Aye, and I’ll help ye,” Finlay whispered. Older than Padruig by three years, a seasoned warrior sidelined from the battlefield by a knee injury, he was kinder, more compassionate than her husband. Finlay had been the first to welcome her when she’d come here as a frightened bride. She was frightened now, longed to take Paddy and run home to the MacBeans. But she’d given up her right to leave when she’d wed Padruig and accepted his bargain. For the sake of that vow and Paddy’s future, she was bound to the Gunns of Hillbrae till the day she died.

“I’m sorry to tear at you, Finlay. ’Tis just that I’m worried.” The knot in her belly tightened. Padruig had been a cold and indifferent husband, preferring his mistress’s bed to hers, thankfully. But he’d been Rowena’s bulwark, her protector.

Finlay smiled faintly. “Dinna fret. Before he went off, Padruig bade me take care of ye and the lad. I’ll see he’s raised right, taught what he needs to know. He’s been declared Padruig’s heir, and the men will honor that Paddy will rule Clan Gunn when he’s old enough.”

‘Twas what she’d schemed, sacrificed and, aye, even lied to ensure. Paddy’s future. Everything she’d done these six years had been for her son. “You’re a fine man, Finlay Gunn. I know you’ll do your best by us,” she said softly, her expression carefully controlled again. “But ’twill be ten years at least till he can fight for himself. Years filled with peril.”

Finlay nodded, his brown eyes sober. “I’ll watch over him till then, see that he’s strong and capable.”

“But you do not know what Eneas has planned,” Rowena murmured, giving voice to her fears at last, even though it meant embroiling Finlay in more danger. “An hour ago, I passed by Padruig’s counting room and heard Eneas speaking with Clem.”

“Go on,” the old man urged.

She hesitated. But where else could she could turn? Few of the Gunns would believe Eneas capable of harming his own nephew. Her father was dead, and her brother was not strong enough to face down Eneas Gunn. Lion was, whispered a traitorous voice.

She had a brief, vivid image of Lion wielding his heavy claymore, muscles rippling beneath his saffron shirt as he fought to drive off two men who had attacked her at that first clan gathering. His opponents had been grown men, Lion a youth of ten and eight, but he’d bested them to save her life.

Lion, the champion of her youth.

Lion, the nemesis of her darkest nightmares. After what he’d done, she’d not accept a cup of water from him if she were dying of thirst. If there was any justice in the world, Lion Sutherland was dead of the plague.

“Come, lass, a burden shared is lighter,” Finlay said.

Rowena sighed and leaned closer, glad of the noise in the hall. “On the morrow, Eneas rides to Blantyre Castle to meet with the Earl of Buchan.”

“What? But—but that is where Padruig had gone, in answer to the earl’s summons.”

“Why? Who is this earl?”

“He’s the king’s brother, sent here to subdue the clans that have been reiving and murdering. To do it, he must raise an army, and he wanted Padruig to provide some men.”

“Oh. It sounds a grand scheme,” Rowena said absently, her own troubles more immediate. “Eneas plans to tell the earl of Padruig’s passing and swear fealty to him on Paddy’s behalf.”

“Fealty? Some of the Lowland clans follow that English custom of swearing allegiance to the king, but we Highlanders do not need to seek anyone’s approval of what we do. Especially when the king’s as weak a vessel as Robert. What does Eneas hope to gain by groveling at the earl’s feet?”

“Eneas told Clem he’d ask the earl to declare himself Paddy’s guardian,” she said faintly.

“But Padruig intended for you, Father Cerdic and myself to have the raising of the lad. He said so before all the clan and made every man swear to support Paddy as his heir.”

“Clem reminded Eneas of that, but Eneas said that the earl would not know of this—this unnatural notion of Padruig’s.” She twisted the linen napkin in her lap, the burning in her belly intensifying. “Eneas says that task should fall to Padruig’s only brother, and he’s certain the earl will agree.”

“No Gunn will care what this earl says.”

“But they may.” She took hold of Finlay’s arm. “Much as they loved Padruig and do love Paddy, also, there are many in the clan who will not love being ruled by a woman, a priest and a—a...” She could not bring herself to call Finlay a cripple, as Eneas had when making his point. “The young men especially want a vigorous chief who can hunt with them and lead them into battle. They will not see the danger to Paddy. They will not see that once Eneas is Paddy’s guardian, he could take my son away from us and...and mayhap kill him.”