unfortunate encounter in the woods, and since then Pietro had been putting up with threats and one very convenient accident in the stables that might have crippled him if he hadn’t been faster on his feet.
No one seemed very broken up about his near miss, and Lachlan decided it would be best if he stopped working in the stables. He gave him a combination position as a guard and advisor, having him in on meetings and sending him out with messages.
It was sticky work, making it look as if Pietro was distancing himself from Lachlan, letting the Glens know he wasn’t a Ferguson by any stretch of the imagination. He quietly sowed seeds of discord, harvesting trust for himself after he wormed his way into the groups of men who were against Lachlan. He’d outwardly disagreed with Lachlan at the last meeting he was in, giving a preauthorized suggestion for a better way of running things. Lachlan took note of everyone’s reactions, seeing that it was a well received idea, and then shot it down with disdain.
The Glens had grown so used to being ruled by a tyrant, he knew he had to continue on that way until Pietro could take charge and give the people what they wanted. He knew that after the meeting, some would seek Pietro out and pledge their allegiance, and he’d been right. Lachlan pretended ignorance of it all.
It was imperative that the Glens be able to accept Pietro as their laird one day. Lachlan only needed to figure out how to extricate himself from the bloody heathens and get him properly wed to Bella so that day could come.
Right now he had to contend with Pietro agreeing with any Glen who badmouthed him, and he’d recently heard Pietro throwing out insults of his own, a little too zealously for Lachlan’s taste. He supposed he couldn’t blame him, but it still rankled.
He was pulled from his thoughts by Quinn and Pietro arguing, when they had painstakingly planned this clandestine meeting in his chambers. Quinn’s injury had served to get him up there, and Pietro had wound his way up through the passageways, waiting for Lachlan’s guard to help Bella carry a teetering load of fabric down the stairs. Lachlan didn’t think it would work, but it turned out his Glen guard had far more loyalty to Bella, and made him realize the man was there more as an extra pair of spying eyes than protection for him.
They had precious little time to tell each other any news and strategize, and he turned to them with a deadly glare, almost hoping they would continue bickering so he could knock their fool heads together.
“Are ye consorting with these lot?” Pietro asked, looking horrified. “Are ye not only sleeping with their women, but gambling with them as well? And winning? Mother of God.”
Quinn shrugged. “I can see no end in sight to this— what is it we’re doing here, Lachlan? I canna help getting bored.”
“Bored? Are ye mad? Our lives are in danger and ye’re treating this like a game. Someone stabbed ye today!”
“And I made certain they’ll no’ be doing it again,” he said, ducking Lachlan’s swing.
Pietro wasn’t as quick or as lucky and took most of the swipe full in the face. He released a string of both modern and eighteenth century swear words, earning him a look of begrudging respect from Quinn.
“Are ye two finished?” Lachlan asked, nodding apologetically to Pietro. He turned to Quinn. “Ye must stop it,” he said. “All of it. The gambling, the drinking, the … consorting.”
Quinn grumbled, but didn’t disagree and Lachlan turned to Pietro. “What are they saying?” he asked. “Do they trust ye at all yet?”
“Perhaps a bit. I had to say some pretty nasty things about ye. I’m trying not to get too personal, but they get suspicious if I don’t laugh at their jokes about your land.”
“What could they possibly have to say about our land?” Quinn asked, standing up in his outrage. Lachlan pushed him back into his seat.
“They’re not very clever about it,