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  The Eagle

  Clan Ross of the Hebrides

  Pink Door Publishing

  © Hildie McQueen 2021

  Kindle Edition

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without written permission. This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it to your retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Also By Hildie McQueen

  Clan Ross of the Hebrides

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Epilogue

  A Note to Readers

  About the Author

  Also By Hildie McQueen

  Clan Ross of the Hebrides

  The Lion: Darach

  The Beast: Duncan

  The Eagle: Stuart

  The Fox: Caelan

  The Stag: Artair

  The Hunter: Ella

  Clan Ross Series

  A Heartless Laird

  A Hardened Warrior

  A Hellish Highlander

  A Flawed Scotsman

  A Fearless Rebel

  A Fierce Archer

  Moriag Series

  Beauty and the Highlander

  The Lass and the Laird

  Lady and the Scot

  The Laird’s Daughter

  Clan Ross of the Hebrides

  This fictional story takes place at the beginning of the 17th century in the Scottish Hebrides, isles off the Isle of Skye’s western coasts.

  In the 1500s, lordship over the Hebrides collapsed and the power was given to clan chiefs. The MacNeil, in Barra, The Macdonald (Clanranald), in South Uist, The Uisdein, in North Uist and the MacLeod, the isles of Harris and Lewis.

  For this series, I have moved the clans around a bit to help the story work better. The clans’ locations in my books are as follows. The MacNeil will remain in Barra, The Macdonald (Clanranald) is moved to North Uist, The Uisdein resides in Benbecula, and the MacLeod remains in the Isles of Harris and Lewis. My fictional clan, Clan Ross, will laird over South Uist.

  Clan Ross of the Hebrides Map

  After the death of their father, Laird Calum Ross, the Ross siblings learn of the atrocities he committed against the clan. They must work hard to regain the people’s trust and begin anew.

  Each of the seven Ross siblings come to terms with their new roles as leaders responsible for hundreds of families.

  One by one, they will find their calling, their place, and hopefully a love for all time.

  Prologue

  South Uist, Hebrides, Scotland

  1802

  One of Stuart Ross’ duties as guard was to patrol the house where the refugee men lived. The house was located between the Ross keep and the house where his brothers, Duncan and Caelan, lived. He always looked forward to the trip because it meant time alone with his thoughts, and he could return in time for last meal.

  His warhorse trotted sideways, its huge hooves lifting and lowering from the ground in dainty steps.

  “Stop it,” Stuart said to the horse who paid him no heed and added a head bob to its repertoire. Annoyed at the animal’s antics Stuart gritted his teeth and pulled back on the reins. The horse seemed to be in some sort of mood continuing its odd walk.

  “What is wrong with ye? Warhorses do not prance,” Stuart barked.

  A chuckle came from somewhere between the trees. Whoever it was must have overheard him.

  “Who’s there?” Stuart asked while looking into the foliage.

  “It is I, Mister Stuart.” A willowy young woman appeared. She wore the distinct faded clothing of someone of little means. A drab, but very clean dress, over it a tidy apron. Her hair was covered with a kerchief, pulling it back from her pretty face.

  “I apologize. I overheard ye scolding yer horse,” she said, lifting her gaze. Her eyes were a light brown, framed with long thick lashes.

  She was the new kitchen maid who’d recently began working at the keep.

  “Cait, what are ye doing so far from the keep?”

  “I live just past there.” She pointed behind her.

  It seemed rather far from the keep, but he didn’t comment. Instead, he looked to see what she held.

  The young woman blinked and swallowed nervously. “I snared a rabbit to share with my mother and younger brother for super,” she said, holding up a dead hare. “I have the laird’s permission. I assure ye,” she quickly added.

  Untying his bow from the saddle, he pulled an arrow from the quiver. Cait paled, her eyes not leaving his face.

  Pulling back, he released the arrow into nearby bushes. “Now ye have two.”

  “Th-thank ye,” she stuttered turning to where he’d shot.

  Stuart nodded. “Be with care, Cait.”

  He urged his horse forward but couldn’t help looking over his shoulder to see what the woman did.

  Cait remained rooted to the spot hand lifted in farewell.

  Interesting that he’d not noticed how beautiful she was—before now.

  Chapter One

  Stuart Ross sat atop his horse on a ridge above the shore, along with twenty other archers, bows at the ready. Below them, atop their own huge warhorses was his brother, Laird Darach Ross, flanked by his other brothers, Duncan, and Gideon. They were in turn surrounded and well protected by skilled warriors.

  Everyone was tense and ready for whatever would happen next, as just offshore a line of bìrlinns had arrived. Their banners high on the masts declaring them to be Clan Maclean.

  It was not a totally unexpected visit, but it was an unwelcome one. The Maclean had not bothered to send a messenger ahead to announce the upcoming visit. Instead, the man had shown up without warning and only that morning had sent someone to proclaim his arrival. His ploy showed not only a lack of tact, but also why he was not well-liked by other lairds.

  Ross and Maclean clans were not on good terms, but neither were they enemies. The animosity between them had endured from when they’d warred decades earlier.

  This current visit probably had to do with Clan Ross taking in a group of men seeking asylum in early winter. Their leader, a man by the name of Lennox, claimed he and the other men had left Clan Maclean fearing execution.

  Apparently, their defection was not taken lightly; because instead of sending an emissary, Laird Maclean traveled to see about the issue personally.

  Even from a distance, it was easy for Stuart to tell who The Maclean was as he rode toward Darach. An older
man with gray hair shinning in the sunlight was one of the few who’d brought a horse. He was slight and looked almost childlike compared to Darach, who was younger, taller, and well built.

  At times like these, Stuart was not fond of his role as archer because it meant remaining in the background. An archer’s position was behind the warrior lines, which meant being far from the conversations and many times also a distance from the actual battlefield.

  Not that he expected there to be any sort of fight. The Maclean had only brought a small contingent of men with him ashore. And only those warriors flanking him were on horseback.

  “This is an interesting turn of events,” his brother Ewan, also an archer, said. “The asylum seekers have not caused any trouble since arriving. Why does the laird himself come to retrieve them?”

  Stuart shrugged. “Obviously, there had to be a strong reason for the men to leave. Lennox has been reluctant to give any explanation, other than the laird believed them to be disloyal.”

  The Maclean’s arrival meant that Lennox would have no choice. He would have to give Darach a good reason to allow him and his men to remain.

  As a signal, Darach lifted his right hand and flicked his cupped hand toward the keep. It meant that he’d invited Laird Maclean to visit. As the two lairds led the way, the warriors and then he and the archers followed.

  “I really am not in the mood to hear whatever this is all about,” Ewan said. “I must go home and see about Catriona.” His brother’s wife had recently given birth to their second child—a healthy boy they’d named, Gawin—and since then, Ewan was rarely away from his family.

  Stuart did not blame him. It was good to see his brother so happy and settled. With a shrug, he replied, “No reason for ye to remain. I doubt our presence is required. Go home, I will let ye know if anything of interest happens.”

  It would take roughly an hour to arrive back at the keep. Stuart replaced his bow, strapping it to the side of his saddle and rolled his shoulders. He’d not slept well the night before, accosted by restlessness. Being less rested made him extra alert. He never wished to be the cause of others coming to harm.

  Just then a rider neared. It was his cousin, Artair Ross, whose primary duty was as a scout. “The laird requests that ye go speak to Lennox. Tell him what has happened and ask that he come to the keep.” His cousin looked past him for a moment before continuing, “When ye and Lennox arrive at the keep enter through the side gate, so not to be seen by the Maclean warriors.”

  Stuart hated missing the discussions that would occur once the laird’s arrived at the keep. “Did the Maclean state what he wants?”

  Artair shook his head. “They only spoke greetings and talked about the late laird, yer father. Then the Maclean asked if he could speak to Darach in private regarding who he called ‘the traitor’.”

  Stuart blew out a breath. “I best hurry if I am to retrieve Lennox and be back in time to help if needed.” He motioned to two warriors. “Come with me.”

  “I think I will come as well,” Artair said.

  The abandoned building where the asylum seekers were housed had been transformed during the winter. True to his word, Lennox and his men had made extensive repairs to the walls and roof restoring the house to its former state. There was even a garden on one side that a man was tilling when they rode up.

  The night they’d first discovered strangers on the shore, twenty men had set up a meager camp. Once settled into the current building, nine made the choice to leave before the weather turned any colder and had traveled south to seek a home with another clan. The eleven that remained seemed content with their new living arrangements.

  Upon Stuart and the warriors nearing the house, Lennox came out, his gaze wary.

  “Has the Maclean arrived then?” he asked.

  “Aye,” Stuart said dismounting along with Artair. “He and my brother are at the keep now.”

  “Is he demanding we be turned over to him?” the man who’d been tilling asked, as he walked over and joined Lennox. Another pair of men came from the house and listened with interest as well.

  When Stuart hesitated, Lennox motioned to the door. “Should we discuss this inside?”

  He and Artair walked inside what had been a dilapidated structure. Stuart was impressed with all the work they had done. The interior had been transformed into a beautiful home.

  Support beams had been replaced, and furniture built. A long table with benches filled half of the large room. There were a pair of chairs by the large hearth, and cots lined two opposite walls. Five on one side, six on the other.

  The men gathered and Stuart motioned to the table. Understanding their worry, he had to tell them something, but there wasn’t really any information to impart.

  “Laird Maclean, along with a small contingent came to shore today. He and my brother are to have a private conversation upon their arrival at the keep.”

  The men murmured among themselves, several looking toward the cots, probably mentally deciding what to take. They had not come this far only to give up.

  “We can leave.” The statement from Lennox was soft, but resolute.

  “Nay. My brother wishes to speak to ye. He asked that ye come to the keep with me. We are to enter through a secret entrance so ye are not seen by the Maclean men.”

  “How do we know ye will not take us captive and turn us over to the Maclean?” one of the men asked.

  “If we wished to imprison ye, we would have done so by now,” Artair snapped. “Ye should have expected that sooner or later, Clan Maclean would come in search of ye.”

  Lennox looked to the men who seemed to consider him their leader. “Laird Ross has been a kind host and I trust him. I will go and see what the Maclean wants. Remain here. I will send word.”

  “I can assure ye that my brother is not inclined to turn ye away,” Stuart informed the men. “Ye have posed no threat to our clan and we hold ye in high esteem.”

  The men seemed to take in what he said, but still exchanged looks as if considering whether to flee or remain. Stuart did not blame them.

  As they rode toward the keep, Lennox gave Stuart a curious look. “Who came with the Maclean?”

  “Just the small contingent of warriors. There are four bìrlinns. Two men remained with each one.”

  Lennox frowned. “Ye were with yer brother? Ye know what was said?”

  “Nay, I was on the ridge a distance away. I could not hear anything.” He did not mention that Artair had heard the conversation.

  “But yet ye could see everything so clearly?”

  Stuart shrugged. “I have very good eyesight.”

  They rode a bit longer before Lennox spoke.

  “Ye and the laird look nothing alike.” Lennox seemed eager to make conversation. It was probable he was nervous about what awaited.

  “Darach is son to my father’s first wife. The rest of us are sons to his second wife, except for Caelan, who is bastard born.”

  “I see,” Lennox said. “Yer brother Caelan comes often and gives us work.”

  “Aye, I am aware,” Stuart said. “He has a lot of land to maintain around his house. I am glad that ye and yer men have been able to earn a living.”

  The warrior was quiet for a few minutes. “Five of my men wish to work as Laird Ross’ guards. Do ye think it will be possible?”

  Stuart understood the need to find work doing what one knew best. He would always prefer to be an archer over anything else. “Let us see how this visit goes and then we can speak to my brother.”

  The man nodded and let out a sigh. “I do not understand why the Maclean would wish for us to return. There is nothing to be gained from men who are not loyal to the one in charge.”

  “It could be a matter of pride?”

  Lennox nodded. “Aye, perhaps.”

  Upon arriving at the keep and stowing Lennox in a room near the maid’s quarters, Stuart went to seek out his eldest brother.

  Darach and the Maclean were in the great ro
om. It seemed the hospitality portion of the visit continued.

  When Stuart walked closer, Darach motioned to him. “This is Stuart, third-born son.”

  The Maclean looked to him with disinterest, but he managed a nod and a slight lift to the corners of his lips. If Stuart was to guess between a smile and a sneer, he would guess the latter.

  Upon closer inspection, he saw the man’s gray hair was actually quite thin. It was more likely his scalp Stuart had seen shining in the sunlight earlier, as it was showing between the limp strands of remaining hair that for whatever reason the man chose to wear long, hanging well past his chin. There was also a yellowing to the Maclean’s skin that told of failing health. At the same time, by the narrowed eyes and pinched brow, he fought to not show the pain he was in.

  Stuart recognized the gleam in the Maclean’s eyes. He should, he’d seen it often enough in his late father’s gaze. It could be that the man was not there so much for the men who he called traitors, but to see what he could gain as recompense for what he considered an insult.

  When he met Darach’s gaze, it was obvious his brother saw it as well.

  The Maclean had not brought his wife, nor did any other women accompany him. Therefore, Isobel, Darach’s wife, and the other women of the keep were not present. Instead, the long tables in the great room were filled with the warriors who’d come with the laird. The men ate and drank, speaking in low tones. From their wariness, the Maclean must have warned them to be on guard, or something of the like.

  To ensure the family was well protected, Darach had stationed his guardsmen—double the number the Maclean had brought—throughout the hall. Some sat at tables, separate from the other clan, with their own tankards and platters of bread and cheese to share, while other warriors were on duty guarding the entrance. Further assurance was provided by Darach’s personal attendants, who stood at his back.

  Stuart reluctantly went to the high board and sat next to a man who’d accompanied the Maclean. The man looked to be close to his own age of two and thirty. Unlike the Maclean, this man had the bored look of someone who wished to be anywhere but there.