Over the Highland Mountains

Chapter 1 • Surprise

"Ye did what?!" his voice echoed in the empty room as he spun around to face her. He was so livid he could burst. "It is one thing to arrange a betrothal fer yer fully grown, laird-of-a-son without his consent, but to do so without me even kenning about it is quite another!"

The woman before him didn't even look up at his outburst, but continued busying herself with the flowers on the table, clearly unmoved and unaffected. She answered blandly, "Alasdair, I am yer mother and without yer father here, it is my responsibility to make sure ye have a suitable woman to wife before the people start questioning yer ability to produce an heir."

"Ye're right, Mother," Alasdair allowed in a soft voice with a deep breath, fighting the exasperation he felt as he shut his eyes, "Father is no longer with us, and this responsibility may have fallen to you before I took his place, but I am the Laird o' Mackenzie now! I am responsible fer finding my own woman, preferably someone from a more advantageous clan -" he stopped, brows furrowing in concentration, trying to remember something long forgotten, "Wait, Leslie... isn't that the clan where ye -"

"Alasdair," Lady Fiona stopped him with a dangerous look, "What's done is done. The contract is written and signed by both parties." She paused then softened a little before continuing, "Just go have a look at the lass. If she no' be pleasing to ye, break off the contract. That is the agreement I made."

Alasdair pinched the bridge of his nose.

This woman and her endless agreements!

Some even said Lady Fiona was more ruthless in business than her son in battle. Alasdair loved his mother dearly, but sometimes she infuriated him to no end as she treated life as a business arrangement.

"Fine, I'll go see her," he huffed, his mother's lips twitched to a faint smirk, "But only so that there will be no doubt that the word o' a Mackenzie is trustworthy." He started to leave, but spun around and called as he went backwards, "And no one is questioning my ability to produce an heir, it's only been six months!"

With that he stormed out of the great hall and all but ran to the training ground, almost knocking a maid over in his haste. He had to get out before his anger got the better of him.

It rarely did; Alasdair prided himself with great concentration and a presence of mind on the battlefield, his anger was fine tuned into his attack, giving him strength and agility.

His father had taught him that.

But when dealing with people he loved and cared about, he had to be a bit more careful and find other ways to release his pent up anger than drive his sword through their chest.

It was time for the midday meal so the training ground was very nearly empty. Alasdair hardly noticed the late stragglers heading in for the meal as he began sparring with the thick wooden pole they used for drilling the basic self-defence techniques from head knowledge to muscle memory.

His muscles moved swiftly and expertly of their own accord as he ran through the movements he had practiced since he was a boy.

Another thing his father had taught him.

Alasdair still remembered his first day in this very spot in the training yard with his father guiding his arms. He had been so excited that he was finally starting his training so that he would be able to fight alongside his father, his mentor, his laird.

Growing up, Alasdair had wanted to be just like his father and so since Laird Arthur had started setting up Mackenzie's feared reputation, Alasdair had made sure to continue and strengthen it in the months since his passing as a way to honour him.

That was to outsiders though. Within their clan, Laird Arthur had been one of the softest hearts around, kind and generous; he couldn't rest if a family were to go hungry for only one night. Alasdair could only hope he was doing his father justice in this area too...