Yield to the Highlander. Terri Brisbin

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      Chapter Seven

      Aidan answered his father’s summons when it came. Though he had expected to be called to answer for the rumoured actions long before this, he knew it would happen sooner rather than later. Knocking and then opening the door, he found his father, grim-faced, sitting in the chair he called his. His mother stood apart from him—not a good sign. Strife between the Beast and his mate was never good. Closing the door, he walked forward, kissing his mother and nodding and standing before his father.

      The silence grew, stronger and more uncomfortable by the moment. It was a strategy, used by his father many times, and a successful one at that. He waited, as practised at this as his parents were. Oh, his sister Lilidh would crumble in tears after a few moments of her father’s hard stare. And Sheena, the youngest, would have trembled by now and admitted all sorts of sins, both real and imagined or planned. But he was the eldest and could play this game.

      ‘A married woman, Aidan,’ his father finally said. Not a question as most would ask, but a statement, a judgement against him already.

      ‘You have never taken an interest in the women I take to my bed before, Father,’ he said, choosing not to answer the question even if it wasn’t asked yet. At his mother’s gasp, he realised his error. ‘I beg your pardon, Mother.’ He faced his father again. ‘She said no.’

      He’d never lied to his parents before. Oh, he’d told wild tales and twisted the truth when it suited his needs, but he had never lied. Would his father accept his word as truth now?

      ‘There are problems now, Aidan. Gowan carries out his duties well. He accepted whatever tasks or assignments I set before him. If others see that their wives could become the target of your efforts to fill your empty bed with a new lover...’ His mother gasped again and Aidan steeled himself for her displeasure even as his father attempted an apology of sorts.

      ‘I told you this was not a suitable matter for you to attend, Jocelyn. I said I would handle this myself.’ His father stood and approached his mother. ‘Your son is a man now and makes his own decisions. And he must stand by his actions as well.’

      Jocelyn MacCallum, Lady MacLerie, was not a woman to be told her place. As a matter of fact, Aidan could not remember a place or a discussion where she did not go when the need or interest rose in her. Whether matters of kith and kin or king and country, she freely offered and sometimes forced her opinions into the decisions his father considered. Telling her that it was not her place was a challenge, plain and simple, and, from the dark expression on her face, one she was not going to let pass.

      ‘Not suitable for me, Connor? Truly, did you say that?’ His mother approached, finger pointing at him. She stood only as tall as his chest and he would like to say that he did not fear her. But he did, as did his father when her eyes flashed and her finger pointed. ‘He is still my son and if he has dishonoured a married woman in seeking to fill his bed, I would have my say.’

      Aidan prepared for her stinging words and then he would speak privately to his father. It was the way they handled things between them. ‘Before you begin, let me repeat—she said no.’

      He watched as doubt and then suspicion filled her expressive eyes, the colour his sister had inherited, and then as she realised what he’d said. ‘So you did not bed her?’