Fingal climbed the stairs to the top of the barbican tower. The Grants had only just reached the edge of the village. He wasn’t sure what to expect. Given the things Lucas had said about his brother.

But if it were true that William wouldn’t pay a ransom to see Lucas returned, why was he here?

Fingal thought back to his own relationship with his older brother, Niall. Like William and Lucas, seven years separated them. While Fingal had idolized Niall when they were younger, Niall hadn’t paid much attention to Fingal one way or another. Whereas it sounded as if Lucas and William butted heads.

“Laird, what are yer orders?” asked Eadoin, another of his captains.

“They are riding under a white flag.”

“But there are so many of them.”

“Aye, it’s worrisome. But I will respect the sign of peace until they give me a reason not to.”

As they drew closer, Fingal was surprised to see a man who looked a lot like William Grant leading the contingent of men. “Is that who I think it is?”

Eadoin nodded. “If ye think it’s Laird Grant, than aye.”

Fingal blew out a long breath. “This just gets stranger.”

When the Grants were within hailing distance, Eadoin called, “Halt and state yer business.”

Laird Grant signaled for his men to halt, but rode a little closer himself. Since they rode under a white flag, by separating himself from his men like this, he was essentially stating that he trusted Fingal to honor that.

“I am Laird William Grant. I believe ye hold my brother Lucas hostage. I would like to speak with Laird MacLennan about what can be done to free him.”

Fingal stepped forward. “Laird Grant, this visit comes as a bit of surprise. I haven’t named my ransom yet. But then again, when ye held my young sister-in-law ye didn’t name a ransom either.”

“Nay, I didn’t. I wanted to talk with ye first. That’s why I requested a meeting at our borders.”

“I gathered as much. But ye’re a few days early and well past my border.”

William looked amused. “Aye. But given the change in circumstances, I wanted to move as quickly as possible to ensure my brother’s release.”

“And yet, ye had to have waited days before ye let me know the fate that had befallen Ailsa.”

“She was never in any danger with us. She was treated extremely well and given more freedom than typically is afforded a hostage.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“Laird MacLennan, as ye can see we have come under a white flag. I did not bring enough men to launch a siege and I’m not interested in a fight. I have come to talk. Will ye do me that courtesy?”

“Would ye like to enter Brathanead alone?” Fingal asked, knowing he was unlikely to agree to that.

“I have heard ye’re an honorable man. So if ye give me yer word that I will not be harmed, nor detained, aye, I’ll enter Brathanead alone.”

That surprised Fingal. “Very well then.” He turned to Eadoin. “Raise the portcullis and have the gates opened. I will meet him under the barbican.”

Laird Grant dismounted and handed his horse off to one of his men.

By the time Fingal reached the bailey, the portcullis and the gates were open. He stepped into the passage under the tower, as did Laird Grant.

Laird Grant offered his right arm. “Thank ye for meeting with me.”

Fingal nodded and took his hand. “I won’t pretend to understand why ye’ve come or why, when ye held Ailsa, ye didn’t ask a ransom for her.”

“Laird MacLennan, ye were born a MacIan and yer older brother is Laird of Clan MacIan, is he not?”

“Aye, he is.”

“Have ye always gotten on well with yer brother?”

“Except for a couple of specific occasions, aye, we generally get along.”

“Well, Lucas and I do not. I have always thought the main reason for this is that I became the Laird of Clan Grant as a lad of fourteen and I allowed that to go to my head a bit. Honestly, I was a prick.”

“I’m sure we’ve all had less than stellar moments in our youth.”

“Aye, well, I fear I haven’t improved much with time. At least, not where Lucas is concerned. But the fact is, I love my brother. I don’t want him harmed. I want to see him happy and whether he believes it or not, I want him to come home.”

“I haven’t named my terms for releasing him.”

“Nay, ye haven’t. So for that reason, I believe there might be some room to negotiate.”

Fingal was becoming impatient. “I’m not sure where this is going.”

“Aye, I’m sure ye’re not. But we have a good deal to discuss and standing here, under yer barbican is not exactly conducive to negotiation. Can we take the time we need to discuss this whole mess and try to figure out a way out of it?”

Fingal nodded. After all, he was the one in control here. William Grant was willing to enter Brathanead alone. “Come with me.”

Laird Grant fell in step beside him and they walked into the bailey. One glance around at the shocked expressions on his men’s faces nearly made Fingal laugh. This was definitely not what he had expected either.

When they entered the great hall, everyone there froze. His lovely Gillian looked momentarily stunned but recovered quickly and crossed the great hall to greet them.

“Gillian, my love, I would like to introduce ye to William Grant, Laird of Clan Grant. Laird Grant, my wife, Lady Gillian MacLennan.”

Laird Grant bowed. “My lady. It is a pleasure to meet ye.”

“Aye, Laird Grant…it’s…uh…it’s a pleasure to meet ye as well.” She looked as confused as Fingal felt.

“As ye’re aware, Laird Grant and I have some things to discuss. We’ll be in my solar.”

She smiled, clearly trying not to react to this new surprise. “Very good. I’ll…uh…I’ll have refreshment sent up.”

“That would be most appreciated. Thank ye, my lady,” said Laird Grant, who then proceeded to remove the scabbard containing his sword from his belt. He held it out to her. “My lady, can I entrust ye with my sword while I’m a guest here?”

“Aye, Laird. Of course.” She accepted the weapon.

It was an exceedingly polite gesture, clearly intended to reinforce the fact that Laird Grant had come into the midst of his enemies in peace.

In the spirit of this temporary truce, Fingal too removed his sword, giving it to Gillian. 

“Welcome to Brathanead, Laird Grant. If ye’ll follow me we can address the matters at hand,” said Fingal.

“Thank ye, Laird MacLennan.”

Fingal led him up a flight of stairs and down the corridor to his solar, without any further conversation.

Once inside, he invited Laird Grant to sit and stoked the fire to take the chill off the room before taking a seat himself.

A knock sounded at the door and a young serving maid entered with a tray bearing a carafe of wine, goblets, bread, cheese, and fruit. She poured each of them a goblet of wine. “Will ye need anything else, Laird?”

“Nay, thank ye, Poppy.”

She curtsied and left.

William Grant took a drink from his goblet and sighed. “This is excellent wine, Laird MacLennan. I haven’t had anything quite this nice in ages. Thank ye.”

“Ye’re very welcome. I’m glad ye like it.”

“Thank ye too for being willing to sit down with me. We have much to discuss and my fondest wish is that we arrive at a mutually beneficial conclusion to the events of the last few weeks.”

“Laird Grant, pardon me for stating the obvious, but as far as I’m concerned the events of the last few weeks have concluded. My sister is home and safe.”

“Aye, and my brother isn’t. And perhaps both of these things are a direct result of my actions.”

“Yer actions?” Fingal was intrigued.

Laird Grant didn’t answer immediately. Rather, he steepled his fingers under his chin and appeared to be considering his next words.

Fingal didn’t push. He learned a long time ago that in a negotiation, silence is not one’s enemy. However, it makes many men nervous. Feeling compelled to fill the silence, they say more than they should, and may give their opponent an advantage.

Finally, Laird Grant looked up. “I have thought about nothing but how this conversation would go for weeks.”

Weeks? How was that possible? Lucas only left Castle Grant with Ailsa two evenings ago. Fingal tried not to reveal how surprised he was by that statement.

Laird Grant continued. “We have been enemies for generations. Or I guess I should say our clans have been. I’ve never met ye before and ye weren’t born a MacLennan anyway.”

“Nay. But I trained with Laird Chisholm and the Grants and Chisholms have never been cozy either.”

“Aye, that’s true. But ye can appreciate my dilemma. I want something from ye.”

Fingal thought it an odd way for Laird Grant to refer to his brother but he said nothing.

“And when a man wants something from another man, who he considers an enemy, he must try to determine the best strategy. Perhaps he pretends that he doesn’t want it all that much, as if it has no real value to him. Perhaps he tries to convince his enemy that it isn’t valuable to him either. Perhaps he tries to trick his enemy into simply giving him the thing he wants.”

“I suppose those are all possible ways to approach the situation.”

Laird Grant nodded. “Aye. But there is a problem with them all. They rely on dishonesty to succeed. Not to mention the fact that one must believe his opponent is stupid enough to be fooled.” Laird Grant met his gaze. “I’ve learned enough about ye over the last few years to know ye’re not stupid. So attempting to deceive ye didn’t seem to be the right course.”

Fingal had no idea where this was going, but once again he kept his frustration to himself. “I appreciate yer candor.”

“Aye, well, ye’re welcome. So then I considered attempting to convince ye that we would both benefit by ye giving me what I want. But the truth is, I stand to benefit considerably more than ye do.”

“Aye, well he is yer brother. I’m not sure how giving him back to ye benefits me.”

“Laird MacLennan, that isn’t what I want from ye.”

“So, what he says is true? Ye hate yer brother?” Fingal couldn’t keep the irritation out of his voice.

Laird Grant looked affronted. “I certainly do not hate my brother. In fact, I both love and respect him. But I haven’t done a very good job of letting him know that, so it’s no wonder he thinks I hate him.”

“I’m sorry, Laird Grant. I am beyond confused now. Ye don’t want Lucas back, but ye love and respect him?”

“I didn’t say that. I do want him back. But I’m not here to pay a ransom or to beg ye to simply return my brother. Ye’re right, that would be of no benefit to ye.”

“Then what are ye here for.”

“I want an alliance with ye.”

There was simply no way for Fingal to hide his shock at that statement. “Ye want what?”

“I want an alliance. I want to end the hostility between our clans. It’s ages old.”

“Do ye know what started it?” asked Fingal.

“I’m not certain, but I’ve heard tell ’twas an argument over a woman that started over a hundred years ago. If I remember correctly, Alpin Grant fell in love with the woman to whom Finbarr MacLennan was betrothed.”

Fingal shook his head. “And generations later we are still fighting over it.”

“Aye, but we could end it.”  

“By forging an alliance.”

“Aye,” said William. “By forging an alliance.”

“And why do ye think the Grants have more to gain from this alliance than I do?”

“Seven years ago, we wouldn’t have. Malcolm MacLennan left this clan in shambles. But then ye became laird and immediately repaired old relationships and forged new ones. Now, with the exception of my clan, ye are surrounded by allies and ye have ties to MacLeods, MacNichols, Chisholms, Carrs, Macras, MacBains, not to mention MacKenzie, who has ties to everyone. It is in my best interest not to have ye as an enemy.”

“How do ye propose to seal this alliance?”

“With a betrothal between Ailsa and Lucas.”

“Well, by all that’s good and holy. Nay, I couldn’t possibly have heard ye correctly. Lucas kidnapped her—”

“He didn’t take her from Edinburgh, the Galbraiths did.”

“I don’t care who took her first, ye ended up with her. And ye were in no hurry to let me know where she was or even that she was alive. How many days did ye wait before ye sent that message? Five? Six? And then there was no ransom request, no offer of a truce, nothing but instructions to meet with ye. After all that, ye want me to agree to a wedding?”

“I am sorry for the delay and the cryptic message I sent. I swear to ye, it was with the best of intentions. I had good reasons.”

“Then maybe ye’d better tell them to me. Because I can’t imagine what they were.”

“Do ye know why Lucas was in Edinburgh in the first place?”

“Aye. He said ye wanted him to secure a betrothal with Moira MacNaughton.”

“Exactly. But he wouldn’t do it.”

“Have ye met Moira MacNaughton?”

“Nay, but that’s not the point.”

“Then what is the point?” demanded Fingal.

“I’ve already told ye Lucas and I don’t get on very well. There have been times I believed he defied me simply for the sake of defying me. It wouldn’t matter whether it was Moira MacNaughton or the kindest, sweetest lass in the Highlands. If I suggested a betrothal with anyone, I was certain Lucas would find a way to refuse. I was bemoaning this fact to my wife the day Lucas returned to Castle Grant with yer sister-in-law as a captive instead of the betrothal. She said, ‘Perhaps what ye need to do is find a suitable bride that ye think he might be happy with, then forbid him from marrying her. He’d surely handfast with her immediately.’”

Fingal couldn’t help but chuckle.

“I laughed too. But then I thought about it and I realized she might be right. I also realized that a perfect opportunity had fallen into my lap. I knew almost immediately when Lucas arrived with her, that he had fallen hard for Ailsa. And while she was hopping mad at what he’d done, it was clear she had feelings for him as well. All I had to do was warn him not to fall in love with her and then give him enough time to realize that he already did love her. So to gain more time, I took several rather desperate measures. I delayed sending ye a message I also reckoned that if I suggested a ransom, ye’d be angry enough with us to simply pay it and not consider another option.”

“So ye didn’t ask for one. Ye asked for a meeting instead.”

“Aye. I’d hoped by that time if I’d suggested a betrothal between them, Lucas would agree. Then, if ye agreed too…well, I not only would I gain a strong ally, I’d lose a dangerous enemy. Only, I missed the mark a bit with Lucas. I suspect, like me, he believed that if he asked me to consider seeking a betrothal from ye, I’d refuse out of spite. So he took matters into his own hands.”

Fingal just stared at him until the humor of the situation overtook him. Then he started to laugh. When he’d finally regained control, he said, “Ye wanted this from the start. Ye wanted those two to fall hopelessly in love so ye’d get yer alliance.”

“Aye, Laird. That was my plan. I’d heard ye were a reasonable man. And Ailsa obviously loves and respects ye. I had hoped, once ye realized it would make her happy, ye’d decide that an end to our feud would be a sufficiently good reason to agree to a betrothal.”

“Well, it is,” said Fingal. “But saying that ye missed the mark a bit with Lucas is a gross understatement. He is absolutely convinced that ye hate him and would never consider a betrothal between himself and Ailsa. He thought there was at least a slim chance that if the offer came from me, ye’d consider it.”

William Grant cocked his head to one side. “Did ye agree to?”

“Honestly, I hadn’t decided yet. I couldn’t figure out why ye would have waited so long to contact me. I thought perhaps it was malicious—a uniquely effective form of torture. And then not to ask for a ransom. I couldn’t agree to anything until I had some answers from ye.”

“So now ye have them. Is this possible? Can we forge an alliance with a betrothal?”

“Aye, William. We can. But I’ll need to get yer brother out of my dungeon.”