“He didn’t want anyone to know,” Maddie said. “I can remember some years ago hearing the whispers that circulated. Alexander waited a full five years before making his bequest to the lass. He valued his marriage to Sybilla, and Malcolm was born before their marriage. It isn’t known how he explained the bequest, but soon after his death, rumors began going around about the existence of the lass.”
“With Malcolm still imprisoned, the existence of another descendent of Alexander could brew support for Malcolm’s followers,” Ewan said thoughtfully. “It could, in fact, be a large reason for Cameron’s determination to wed her. Taking over her inheritance would give him more power than he currently wields. Much more power. Scotland could be at war again, and David would face a renewed threat. With Alexander having sired not one, but two possible contenders to the throne, David’s position would be weakened. He can’t afford another lengthy war that will only divide Scotland once again.”
“A bastard cannot inherit,” Caelen reminded him. “This would never be accepted.”
“Think, Caelen. If Duncan Cameron had control of Neamh Álainn, he would be unstoppable. It would matter not the circumstances of Alexander’s children’s births. With that kind of wealth and power, if Cameron chose to ally himself with Malcolm, either could seize power.”
“Are you saying you believe this rubbish?” Alaric asked in astonishment.
“I’m not saying anything. Yet,” Ewan said calmly.
“Don’t you see, Laird?” Maddie burst in, excitement bubbling into her voice. “She’s the answer to our prayers. If you marry the lass, then your heir would inherit Neamh Álainn. ’Tis said she brings a rich dowry to her marriage in addition to the bequest of the lands for her firstborn.”
“Marry her?”
The question was all but shouted by all three brothers. Ewan’s mouth gaped open, and he stared at Maddie in astonishment.
Maddie nodded emphatically. “You have to admit, ’tis a sound plan. If you marry her, Duncan Cameron very well can’t.”
“There is that,” Caelen pointed out.
Alaric turned to Caelen, his expression questioning. “Now you’re going along with this madness?”
Ewan held up his hand to silence them. The throbbing in his head had escalated to a full-blown ache. He leveled a stare at Maddie, who had been listening to everything with rapt attention.
“You may go now, Maddie. I fully expect that everything that has been said here will remain strictly confidential. If gossip gets about the keep, I’ll know where it originated.”
Maddie rose and dropped a curtsy. “Of course, Laird.”
She hurried off and then Ewan turned to his brothers.
“Tell me you aren’t considering this madness,” Alaric cut in before Ewan could get a word out.
“What madness do you think I’m considering?” Ewan asked mildly.
“Marriage. Believing that the lass is the bastard daughter of Alexander, which makes her the niece of our current king. Not to mention half sister of the man who spent ten years trying to usurp David from the throne. And would do so again given the least opportunity.”
“What I believe is that the lass and I are due for a long conversation. I intend to see this mark for myself. Given the relationship between our father and Alexander, I’ve seen his royal seal on more than one occasion. I’d know if the mark on her leg is the true one.”
Caelen snorted. “And you think she’s going to lift her skirts for you to see this brand? She’s more likely to knee you in the testicles for the offense.”
“I can be persuasive when the situation calls for it,” Ewan drawled.
“This, I’d love to see,” Alaric said.
Ewan raised his eyebrows. “You’ll see nothing of the sort. If I catch you even looking like you want a glimpse under Mairin Stuart’s skirts, I’ll pin you to the wall with my broadsword.”
Alaric raised his hands in defense. “Forget I said anything. You’re awfully touchy about a lass you claim annoys you to no end.”
“If the lass is who Maddie says she is, I aim to marry her,” Ewan said grimly. “Our clan needs the coin her dowry would provide.”
Simultaneously, his brothers’ mouths dropped. Caelen cursed loudly and Alaric shook his head and sent his eyes heavenward.
“Think about what you’re saying,” Caelen said.
“I believe I’m the only one who is thinking,” Ewan returned. “If ’tis true that her firstborn inherits Neamh Álainn, think about what this would mean for our clan. We would control the choicest lands in the whole of Scotland. No longer would we sit here dreaming about the day we take our revenge on Duncan Cameron. We would decimate him and his name. He would be obliterated from history. Our name would be avenged. The McCabe clan would be second only to the king. No one, and I mean no one, would ever have the power to destroy us as Dunca Cameron nearly did eight years ago.”
His fist came down on the table, and his entire body trembled with rage.
“I made a vow on our father’s grave that I would not rest until our clan was restored to its full glory and that I would make Duncan Cameron pay for his crimes against us.”
Caelen’s face went cold, and Ewan could see the pain flare to light in his brother’s eyes. But he nodded, his lips set into a fine line. “In this we agree.”
“Neamh Álainn lies to the north with only McDonald between us. If we form a strong alliance with him, we would control a vast portion of this region.”