Read The Chieftain Needs an Heir - a Highland ménage novella (Clan MacKrannan's Secret Traditions) for Free Online Page B

here to do deed in the aforementioned Tradition."
    Hector had already worked out the kinsmanship for himself, for he'd had a few Summonses over the years because of it.  What in hell's name was this all about?  What deed could himself and Ruaridh be asked to perform that his age would matter?
    T raining in the king's army should have made him let the need for reasoning go, for he was so accustomed to carrying out bizarre royal orders that he had learned not to question his superiors' decisions.  This was different.  His forebodings had served him well since his return and it took work to suppress their rising within him now.
    His mind was completely focussed on the wellbeing of the clan. Whatever the deed was, he would do it – and do it well.  Trust was everything with the MacKrannans.  He squirmed in his chair a little, it being so small for a man of his height that his knees were near at his shoulders, and his thoughts turned to working out who was the Too Tall Wife.  It could only be Niall's wife Sorcha.  And since she had not been Summoned to the Vault, there didn't seem much to be done for her except chant the incantations and the like.
    Was it her height they planned to remedy?  He squirmed all the more, aware that at eight inches over six feet he was taller than any he knew, and hoping to hell they did no' think he needed remedied himself.
    The Bard broke the silence again and Hector had another piece of the puzzle.
    " NIALL MACKRANNAN, chieftain of Clan MacKrannan, son of the Chief of the Name of MacKrannan – I address ye.  Seven and twenty moons have waxed and waned since ye took Sorcha to wife, and no bairns born to her, and upon that marker the Green Book of MacKrannan Fertility Traditions was opened for the first in over a hundred years..."
    It seemed an age to Niall since he had sat in this very seat and heard the same damning words from the Bard.  The mead was different this time, though.  A purer taste of ambrosia and royal jelly.  An effect of heightening the senses rather than dulling the reactions.  The warrior in him felt the charge run through his body.  The responsibility to the clan, the fealty to his king, the vision of victory now Sorcha with their hoped-for babe.  He was ready, whatever the Bard might ask of him.
    Hector listened to the 'no bairns born' being topped with 'Fertility', and the penny dropped with a stupendous clatter.  He took his eyes off the fire, stared at the Bard, and tried to work out what the hell was going on here.
    The Bard sat wondering if he had lost track of who knew what, because so many people were directly involved in this Tradition and all in different ways.  Hector's reaction to the mention of Fertility bade him realise that no, neither the Wisewomen nor the Summons nor himself had even mentioned the Tradition's main theme. Indeed, the only one arriving at the Vault with some idea that intimacy might be involved was Niall, and all he knew was the remedy's full title
    Should he fix that now?  Maybe better to wait until the Wisewomen had Sorcha all ready.  Explaining it all twice was the route to confusion.
    The fidgeting and the unasked questions now sparkled around the Vault.  More of a fizzing undercurrent of edginess, if truth be told.  He wished the Wisewomen would bloody well hurry up.
    There was one task would keep the present company occupied a minute and break the tension.
    "This is a barefoot Traditio n.  All o' ye…"
    And he took off his own boots and hose and laid them under his chair to set the example.

    Sorcha was being toured barefoot around a rather large circular room she had not known existed, and once the door was closed she could hardly see where it was amongst the rich carvings.  The Chamber of the Green Man had no windows and the only light came from the blazing fire, surrounded by a grand arch of carved wood trimmed on the outside with leaves and blossoms and berries.  The Wisewomen walked her round contrary to the sun's