In the year of our Lord, 1509
“I say we storm Firthport and bring me son home." Dugald MacAulay's eyes blazed as he addressed the room at large.
"Do ye ken where he is kept then?" Roman Forbes remained seated, quiet as the wolf for which he was named.
"Nay! I ken na, but I am na so daft that I canna find me own firstborn. And if the Forbeses are too scairt ta go with me, me and mine will go alone."
"Yer other sons." Leith Forbes nodded as he rose to his feet. He was a big man, even more powerful than the day he had become the lord of his clan. "They are a brave pair."
"Aye." Roderic was seated across the trestle table from Roman. The fire in the great hall glowed bright, making his gold hair shimmer so that he looked the antithesis of his dark-haired brother, Leith. "They wouldna be scairt ta go with ye past the border. Nay." He too shook his head. "They wouldna be scairt ta die for their kin. And who can say? Mayhap they wouldna both be kilt. One might survive with but a few wounds. Fiona," he said, turning to the red-haired woman near the fire.
"Prepare yer herbs. Brave men go ta die because their brother has been smitten by love."
"Love!" Dugald stormed, his face going red. "David does na love an English wench. Tis rather that his wick led him where his head knew better than ta go. Dunna think that I am so daft as ta misunderstand what ye try ta do. Ye would dissuade me from me course, bend me purposes, convince me ta use words when weapons are needed. Ye Forbeses, ye form great alliances, but what good an alliance if ye are ta mild ta fight when a fight is due?"
"Is a fight due, Dugald?" Leith asked, facing his wife's cousin. "Firthport is a far distance and well fortified. Will ye challenge the entire city?"
"Nay!"said MacAulay, gripping the hilt of his sword. "I challenge only Harrington and those that would ally themselves with him. Indeed, I will skewer him ta the wall for the lies he has spewed against me family name."
"Your son did not steal the ring he is said to have taken." Fiona rose slowly from her place near the hearth. She held a babe against her shoulder. Motioning to the child's mother, she passed him over with a hushed word of advice. "We know he does not steal," she said as she approached the men. "But can we know for certain that he does not love?"
"'Tis possible that he has lost his heart ta an Englishwoman," Leith agreed, turning a gentle glance toward his bride of eighteen years. "Such things have been known ta happen. And how would yer David feel if ye kilt the father of the woman who holds his heart?"
"Ahh Gawd," Dugald groaned, scrubbing his face with frustrated vigor. "I canna fight the lot of ye. And I suppose ye are right. 'Tis lucky I be that me David is yet intact and whole, knowing Harrington as I do."
"Ye know him well?" Roman spoke again, assessing information, thinking, planning. His foster parents had not called him home simply for the sake of loneliness. He had been schooled to be a barrister. Diplomacy was his forte. This was just one of many Highland problems he had been asked to resolve. But Fiona and Leith were a formidable pair without his expertise. Few could withstand either their logic or their wisdom.
"Long ago, when Harrington's first wife still lived, he was a friend of sorts ta me auld laird. I was na more than a lad then, but I know him well enough ta say Harrington be a black-hearted devil who would slaughter his own children ta gain his ends. In truth, some say he has done just that," Dugald vowed.
"A necklace is a small price to pay for the life of one's child," Fiona said, settling her warm gaze on Roman. She had called him son long before she had borne her own, long before he had been called the Wolf.
Dugald sighed. "Aye," he said, hefting a small leather pouch. "'Tis but baubles in a bag, I suppose. Still..." He emptied the drawstring purse into his hand. Gems as bright as hope sparkled against his palm. "'Twas the necklace auld MacAulay gave ta his bride. It should have been yers long ago, Lady Fiona."
"It belonged with you at MacAulay Hold," Fiona said. "But had it been mine own, I would gladly give it back to you now."
"Yer generosity has na been overrated, lady," Dugald said. "Still, I am loath ta grant Harrington's demands and give it up for the return of me son, who should have never wandered ta Firthport at the outset."
" 'Tis a bonny piece," admitted Roderic. "Who will take it ta England?"
" 'Tis me own duty and ..." Dugald began, but Leith raised his hand to stop him.
"Visions of Harrington skewered ta the wall might disturb me sleep."
Dugald opened his mouth as if to speak, but paused and finally chuckled. "Yer saying I should na go."
Leith shrugged. "I am saying there are men with cooler heads in this situation."
Dugald turned his gaze from Laird Leith to Roman. "Did ye, perchance, have someone in mind, Forbes?"
"I know ye think I can do na wrong, brother," Roderic said, drawing everyone's gaze to him. "But I fear I am na the man for this ..."
Leith cut him off with a snort. "As if I would ask ye ta leave yer Flame when she is due ta bear yer third bairn. 'Twas all I could manage ta coerce ye ta leave her side for a day."
Roderic chuckled. "If I am na ta be the man of men-" He glanced at Roman as if perplexed. "-then who might it be? Hawk could go, of course, but he will not return from France for some weeks yet. Colin has traveled ta the north. Arthur—but nay, he's still mending. Graham, merely a lad. Andrew..." He shook his head. "It looks as if we'll have ta send one of the women. Roman, saddle a horse, it seems yer mother will be riding ..."
"Methinks yer wit is thinning with age," Roman said, spearing his uncle with a scowl. But that dire expression only made Roderic laugh.
"Yer the man for the task, Roman, and ye well know it," he said. "But ye should learn ta smile, lest the English think all we Scots be so dour."
"The Wolf does na smile," said Dugald, "but he is wise, and mayhap he sees little ta cheer him regarding the capture of me son."
"And mayhap he has yet ta meet the woman who will show him this world is na so sober a place," Roderic countered, eyeing Roman closely.
"Am I forgetting, or did yer own gentle lady take a knife ta ye a fortnight afore yer wedding?" Roman asked.
Roderic chuckled, rubbing his chest as if an old wound nagged him. "When ye've seen some age, lad, ye'll learn that the scars but make the memories the sweeter."
Leith laughed, drawing Fiona into his embrace. Roman watched them. They were his parents by choice if not by birth. He would not fail them.
"Would ye like me ta go in yer stead, Laird MacAulay?" Roman asked, his tone solemn.
Dugald blew out a quiet breath and speared Roman with his gaze. "Laird Leith advises against going meself, and I suppose he is right. Me temper would only find me trouble. But ye ..." He paused. "If the Wolf of the Highlands canna bring me son back alive, there is none that can."