MacArthur's Challenge - Laird's Love Vol. 2

Finishing Business

Two weeks after the ambush that captured the Crosbie reivers, Iain MacArthur sat astride his horse, watching as four men approached from the south. To his right was Ruaridh, to his left was Aiden. Both men were brawny, large beasts that were rough warriors. Although Iain did not expect there to be a dispute over the bounties for his captives, he was not so unwise as to meet the Crosbies without arms.

When the four stopped ten feet shy of the MacArthurs, their leader gave a nod. Angus Crosbie was the brother of Duncan, who had been taken by the MacArthur Laird. He had sorely missed his kin and he was anxious to ensure his health. He would not, however, make the mistake of announcing the relationship – that would only ensure a higher bounty be requested.

"Ya 'ave some of ours," Angus stated after a full minute of silence.

"I do," Iain responded, his lips firm. Had Angus been closer, he might have seen a flash of pride and amusement in Iain's eyes. The distance between them, though, ensured that the slight Angus would have taken at such a realization was not realized.

"Wha' price?" Angus asked, settling his horse as it shifted. The steed could no doubt feel his tension.

"Doona you wan' ta know how many there are?" Ruaridh asked, curious. Angus met his gaze and then turned back to Iain.

"Of course," he answered, staring at the Laird.

"Five and ten," Iain responded. "All healed from their misadventures on ma land," he continued. Although the Crosbie speaker hadn't said it, there was a tension in his shoulders that Iain was sure related to the prisoners. Sure enough, upon hearing that all the Crosbies were hale, the tightening of Angus' frame eased.

"Wha' price?" Angus questioned once more, his heart easing. Dickering with the MacArthurs wasn't high on his list of favorite activities, but he was happy to learn that the Laird here was a good man. It would have been within his authority to kill any captured reiver, including Duncan.

"Come," MacArthur said, turning his horse.

The four Crosbies looked at each other in silent communication. Guest honor would not be given them, considering their purpose. However, an honorable man would not accost those who came under a banner of peace. It was a risk to follow MacArthur, but Angus nodded and followed. What choice did he have?

The MacArthur clan noted the appearance of the Crosbies, several of the farmers from the village unhappy with the sight. They grumbled under their breath, only to be reminded by their womenfolk that MacArthur was a strong, smart Laird. He'd not willingly put them in danger.

When they reached the keep, MacArthur dismounted and bade the others to follow. As he walked toward the entrance, he noted Aimil coming around the corner from where the gardens were. His eyes sharpened on her.

Something was amiss.

Her head down, Aimil shuffled quickly toward the exit that would lead her home. Catriona had managed to wound her this time, and Aimil's side ached with the cut. She needed to clean the slice and then access her stepfather's poultices before it became infected.

"Aimil," Iain called, his voice carrying over the yard. She looked up and, as she did, her hand shifted. The movement, though small, was enough for Iain to see blood seeping through her fingers.

"Aimil!" Iain cried, disregarding the Crosbies and his men as he ran to the lass.

She stayed still, watching with heavy eyes as the Laird approached her. While she was not happy with her present state, the Laird's dark eyes and strong hands had become an addiction to her. Aimil would not pass the opportunity to have one or the other, despite her pain.

"Wha' happened, love?" Iain asked, bending to a knee and peeling her palm from her midsection. Her clothing was sliced in an arch there, roughly a hands-width long. Through it, he saw that her delicate flesh had also been cut.

"A disagreement only, m'Laird," Aimil said, her lips pulling up on one side.

Iain all but growled at her response, not appreciating the lack of true answer. When it appeared that she would not be providing more information without prodding, the Laird lost his temper. He stood with arms reached out, scooping Aimil into his embrace and striding toward the entrance to the main hall.

"M'Laird?" Aimil said, her golden-flecked eyes amused. Iain's narrowed as they met.

"Aye," he grunted.

"Mayhap, you should finish yer business with the Crosbies?" she suggested, pointing over Iain's shoulder to the men who were watching with curiosity in their eyes. Iain stopped for a moment and turned to the others, tightening his hold on Aimil.

"Every MacArthur animal is to be returned and another again for the offense on my land," MacArthur ordered. "If ya keep yer people away, then I'll permit a visit in the season for the Crosbies to send three men to learn our means," he offered.

Angus' eyes widened on the Laird's words. The offer was generous to a point of near stupidity. The MacArthurs had the Crosbies by the throat, and yet all they wanted was a double payment? And, added to that, they offer help?

"'Tis trickery," Angus' man, Kian said, loud enough for Iain to hear. The Laird stopped in his intent to take Aimil to the tables to clean her wound and demand answers. Instead, he stomped over to Kian, shifting Aimil to Aiden's arms as he stared Kian in the eyes.

"I 'ave more important matters to deal with than you," Iain stated flatly, iron in his voice. "Bu', if ya'd rather wait, then I can see to teaching ya to mind yer mouth after I've cared for my own," he threatened.

Kian's gaze flickered to the bonnie lass who was held by MacArthur's man. Unconsciously, he licked his lips as he noted her person. The result, however, was an even further angered MacArthur.

Seeing his chance at saving his brother go up in flames, Angus stepped in front of Kian and into Iain's line of sight. He put out an arm, willing the Laird not to back away from the boon he'd just granted them. The bounty was easy, but it would still be harsh on the Crosbies to come up with it – times were lean. Anything more than what MacArthur demanded would likely scatter the clan, a thing that Angus couldn't stomach.

"You 'ave a deal," Angus said, keeping his arm extended. Iain's eyes shifted from Kian to Angus. Though fire still raged in his gaze, Iain nodded and took the Crosbie's forearm, sealing the arrangement.

"Be back in a fortnight with the bounty and all your men will be ready," Iain said. Then, he turned to Aiden with his arms extended. Aiden quickly transferred an amused, if a little frustrated Aimil, back to Iain.

"I can walk, m'Laird," Aimil noted as he strode away from the men in his hall. He looked down into her eyes, his expression clear now as tension eased from his shoulders. Her wound was not life threatening, and it angered him to no end she had one at all, but smelling the wildflowers on her was relieving the tightness that was paining him.

"Nae, lass," he answered. "You can be carried."