Grace Under Fire (Buchanan-Renard 14)

He was right. As soon as the dishes were removed, Lachlan angled his chair closer to Isabel. Here we go again, Michael thought.

“I’ve been trying to talk my wife into moving to my hamlet. I miss it, and that’s where all my relatives are. I talk to my cousins, Hamish and Rory, almost every day, and they keep me up on all the news. I recently inherited my mother’s cottage,” he continued. “But my wife has been ill...”

He gave Michael a furtive glance. Lachlan was a little reticent to talk in front of him, but Michael wasn’t about to leave Isabel’s side, and so he pulled out his phone to answer his texts. He pretended not to hear the man tell Isabel his problems.

“She’s been ill?” Isabel said, her voice filled with sympathy. “I’m so sorry.”

“For a while it was bad, real bad. It’s her blood,” he explained. “She has great doctors in Glasgow.” His voice shook with emotion, and there were tears in his eyes. Isabel reached over and put her hand on top of his. He grabbed hold and held tight as he continued. He talked for almost fifteen minutes, and when he was finished, Isabel gently pulled her hand back and said, “It sounds like you’re doing a wonderful job of taking care of her.”

Tears cluttered his eyes again. He pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket and wiped them away. “I don’t know what I would do without her,” he whispered.

Michael had been listening, of course. He realized that while Lachlan talked, he was actually working out his own solutions and getting rid of any guilt he harbored. Isabel had made a connection with this man because she understood his pain and his loneliness, for she had experienced both when she lost her mother and didn’t have anyone to help her get through it.

“Of course, I can’t ask her to move. Leaving doctors she has such faith in would be wrong.” He took Isabel’s sympathetic smile as an approval. “You know what? We could use the cottage for a getaway every now and then. It’s not such a long drive. My wife would like that.” He took a deep breath and slowly let it out. Having worked out the problem, he was ready to move on. “Let’s get to those maps,” he said. “I’m going to be making marks with this red pen, so I’ll be giving you this map for free.”

Isabel objected. “No, I’ll be happy to pay...”

Ignoring her offer, he continued. “As you can see, this is a map of the Highlands. Now, the Kincaid clan and the Maitland clan lived way up here,” he said, marking the area with an X. “Quite a few of their descendants live there even now. It’s their land, after all.” Hunched over the map, he looked at Isabel. “The Highlands are beautiful. No, that’s not the word I’m searching for.”

“They’re majestic,” Isabel offered.

“Yes,” Lachlan agreed. “Majestic.”

Michael noticed that Lachlan was far more relaxed now. The talk had obviously helped him.

“Bordering the Maitlands to the west are the Buchanans. There are still quite a few descendants living up there, too. You’ll want to stay away from them on your travels,” he warned. “Far away.” He affected an exaggerated shiver for effect and said, “They can be mean and crazy. The least little thing sets them off. They enjoy fighting. Yes, they do,” he added, nodding. “The Buchanan men like to frequent the Lazy Pig Pub in Kinley, which isn’t far from here, and I’ll admit the pub serves some of the best kidney pie in all of Scotland, but I’m warning you not to go there. It’s too dangerous.”

Lachlan must not have thought she and Michael understood just how ornery and mean the Buchanan men were, for he felt the need to give them yet another warning. “If one of you looks at one of them funny-like, he’ll punch your man right in the face.”

“Oh my,” Isabel whispered.

Michael, she noticed, was trying hard not to smile. Did he think having the reputation of being the mean and crazy Buchanans was a good thing? And what did looking at someone funny-like mean? She didn’t dare ask him, fearing she might start smiling, or worse, laughing, which she worried would offend him.

“Did I mention the MacHughs? They were way up there, too, and the edge of their property touched Finney’s Flat, a coveted piece of land. Way, way back, ownership of the land bounced between the MacHughs and the Buchanans. Then the Dunbars got into it. They were almost as mean and crazy as the Buchanans.”

With a sigh, he leaned back in the chair, stretched his legs out, and told them several stories he’d heard from his cousins about the Buchanans and the Dunbars. All the stories ended with someone getting punched in the face.

The goings-on of the clans fascinated Isabel. “You know your history,” she praised, even though she suspected most of the stories were exaggerations.

“I like to think I do. Some things are always changing, and other things are never going to change. A Highlander never forgets a slight. Let me tell you about some of my favorite feuds.”

Isabel couldn’t help but notice that each feud he told them about always began with the same word, sneaky. The sneaky Kearns, the sneaky MacPhersons, and the sneaky no-good Monroes were just a few.

After he described feuds—some that went as far back as only God knew—Michael pointed to an area of the map that didn’t have an X on it. He knew that was where the MacKenna land was, but he wanted Lachlan to assume they didn’t know anything about the clan. If Michael came right out and asked about the MacKennas, Lachlan might want to know why they were interested.

“What clan lived here?” he asked.

“The MacKennas,” Lachlan answered. “How could I have forgotten.” He leaned over the table and made another bold X. “There’s quite a bit of turmoil going on with some of the MacKennas who live there now. Quite a bit,” he repeated, nodding for emphasis. “My cousin Rory says it’s all anyone can talk about.”

“I’d love to hear about it... if you have the time,” Isabel said.

“Of course I have the time, and I enjoy talking about the feuds. It keeps them fresh in my mind.” He scratched his cheek as he continued. “The MacKennas have themselves a giant feud percolating now.”

Carefully folding the map, he handed it to Michael. Then he motioned to the waiter, who was hovering in the doorway. “Bring it on in now, Harry,” he ordered.

The tray must have already been prepared because seconds later a fresh tea service was placed on the table. Besides the silver teapot, sugar and creamer, there were also little tea sandwiches, tea cakes, and scones with clotted cream, lemon curd, and raspberry jam.

Michael noticed that Harry couldn’t take his eyes off Isabel. When Isabel looked up at him and smiled, the teenager nearly dropped two bottled waters Michael had requested. The waiter’s obvious infatuation with Isabel irritated Michael. In the past he’d never been overly possessive, but with Isabel it was different. He was different.