“Nay, I’m saying I would feel more secure in the alliance if there were more at stake than mutual protection. I don’t want my lands in the hands of a man like Duncan Cameron. He’s a greedy, power-hungry bastard who’d betray his own mother to further his cause.

“There are rumors, Ewan, more now than ever, that Duncan plots against the king. And I’ve heard that he might throw in his lot with Malcolm to support another uprising against the throne.”

Ewan drummed his fingers on the table and looked again at Alaric, who wore what could only be described as a pained look of resignation.

“I’ll have to speak to my brothers. I won’t make any decision that affects Alaric without hearing his thoughts on the matter.”

McDonald nodded. “Of course. I would expect no less. Separately, we are strong clans. But together we would be a force to be reckoned with. Think you the McLauren clan would join in our cause?”

The McLauren clan, though small, did have well-trained soldiers. Together with the McCabes and the McDonalds, they would form a formidable alliance that would only be strengthened when the McCabes controlled Neamh Álainn.

“Aye, they will,” Ewan replied. “With the three of us united, it might sway Douglas to our side. He controls the lands north and west of Neamh Álainn.”

“If we plant the idea of Duncan Cameron sniffing around Neamh Álainn, he’ll come around fast enough,” McDonald said. “He alone can’t stand up to a force like Cameron, but with us, Cameron doesn’t stand a chance against our might.”

“Duncan Cameron doesn’t stand a chance against me,” Ewan said softly.

McDonald’s eyebrow lifted in surprise. “That’s a heavy boast, Ewan. You don’t have his numbers.”

Ewan smiled. “My men are better trained. They’re stronger. They’re more disciplined. I don’t look to this alliance to defeat Cameron. I’ll defeat him with or without allies. I look to alliances to cement the future.”

At McDonald’s disbelieving look, Ewan leaned back in his seat. “Would you care for a demonstration, Gregor? Perhaps you’d like to view firsthand those you ally yourself with.”

McDonald’s eyes narrowed. “What sort of demonstration?”

“Your best men against my best men.”

A slow smile spread across the older man’s face. “I like a good contest, I do. You’re on. What shall we wager?”

“Food,” Ewan said. “Three months’ store of meat and spices.”

“God’s teeth, you drive a hard bargain. I can’t afford to part with that kind of bounty.”

“If you’re concerned about losing, we can of course call off the contest.”

Knowing an opponent’s Achilles’ heel was all-important, and for Gregor McDonald, his weakness was a challenge. Suggesting he was afraid of losing a wager was like summoning hounds to a carcass.

“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 himify 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.”

“But what if we lose? We can’t possibly afford to part with such riches. We don’t even have it to lose.”

One of the older women tsked under her breath. “Our warriors won’t lose. ’Tis disloyal to think they would.”

Mairin scowled. “I’m not being disloyal. I just thought it was odd the laird would wager what we don’t have.”

“Since we won’t lose, it really isn’t an issue,” Maddie said, patting Mairin’s arm.

“Oh, look, Gannon’s won his bout and now ’tis Cormac’s turn!” Christina exclaimed. “He’s ever so handsome, isn’t he?”

The women around Christina smiled indulgently. Maddie leaned forward and whispered conspiratori>The “Our Christina has eyes for Cormac.”

Mairin observed the way Christina’s cheeks went pink as soon as Cormac strode into the circle. His shirt was off and the muscles bulged and rippled in his arms. He did make a fine sight. Not as fine a sight as Ewan, but still not bad at all.

Christina gasped when Cormac took a particularly hard blow and fell back. She covered her mouth with her hand and stared as the warrior picked himself up and lunged forward again. The sounds of clanging metal pierced the air as Cormac fought with renewed vengeance.

It was over seconds later, when Cormac’s opponent’s sword went flying through the air. Cormac raised his sword over his head and then slashed downward until the point rested under the other man’s chin.

The man held up his hands in surrender and Cormac extended a hand to help him to his feet.

“Our men are making short work of the McDonald warriors,” Bertha said smugly.

Indeed the McCabe soldiers quickly dispatched the next two. The match was over, given that four of the McDonald warriors had already fallen, but the fifth stalked into the ring fully adorned with protective armor and helmet.

“He’s a small one!” Maddie exclaimed. “Why, he can’t be more than a lad.”

Evidently, Diormid, who’d been chosen to go last, agreed, because he stood to the side, a perplexed look on his face. When the smaller warrior raised his sword, Diormid shook his head and strode forward.

Though he was a great deal smaller than Diormid, he proved to be extremely nimble and agile. He deftly avoided blows that would likely have knocked him from his feet.

The McDonald warriors, inspired by the best performance thus far, surged forward, shouting encouragement to the lad. He was quick to parry and he had Diormid fighting to remain on his feet.