“The rumors were right. They mean to bring the French here,” Joseph muttered, his voice low and taut. “To land troops on Scottish soil and put a Stewart claimant on the throne.”
Niall exhaled sharply, leaning back in his chair. The weight of what they had just uncovered settled heavily in his chest.
“This is it,” he whispered. “This is treason, right here. We’ve got him.”
“Wait,” Joseph said suddenly, his voice sharp with urgency. “There’s more.”
Niall looked up as Joseph slid another letter toward him, the parchment slightly crumpled from the way Joseph had gripped it. Niall snatched it up, scanning the contents quickly, his eyes narrowing.
Then he saw it.
His own name. Campbell.
His pulse slammed against his ribs, and for a brief, wild moment, he thought MacAllister had somehow known about him, about his infiltration of the rebellion, of his covert spying for the crown. But as his eyes traced the words again, realization struck him: the letter wasn’t talking about him.
It was talking about Bryce. His older brother.
Niall’s fingers tightened on the parchment as he read Joseph’s translation.
The funds have been secured. Bryce Campbell believes it to be an investment in the wool trade. He will take the blame should anything go wrong, and his lands will be forfeit. With his downfall, all Campbell territory will be divided among the rightful loyalists.
Niall felt as if the floor had shifted beneath him. His brother had been unknowingly funding MacAllister’s treason. Bryce, who had always believed in law and order, was being set up to take the fall.
“God’s blood,” Niall muttered. He looked up, meeting Joseph’s grim gaze before turning to Charlotte, whose face had gone pale. “He’s going to ruin my brother. He’s going to ruin us all.”
Joseph exhaled through his nose, his expression tight. “Aye. And if Bryce’s involvement becomes known, he’ll be accused of treason. There’ll be no saving him.”
Niall’s grip on the parchment nearly tore it in two. Fury rose in him, white-hot and blinding. This wasn’t just politics anymore. This wasn’t just war. This waspersonal.
Charlotte leaned forward, her voice urgent. “We have to stop him.”
Niall nodded, his jaw clenched. Bryce wasn’t involved in the rebellion. He hadn’t been working with MacAllister. Instead, he’d been an unwitting partner in MacAllister’s schemes. An odd sense of relief filled him at that. He and his brother had been estranged for a long time but he’d always harbored the hope that one day they would be reconciled. That hope would have died had it turned out Bryce was a rebel. But now? There was still hope. As long as they got to Bryce in time.
“We have to warn Bryce. Now.”
Niall pushed back from the table, rolling up the incriminating letters and securing them inside his plaid.
Joseph stood as well, his expression grim but steady. “I’ll turn out the guard,” he said, already striding for the door. “I’ll have every man armed and ready. If MacAllister gets wind that we’ve discovered his plans, there’s a chance he’ll strike tonight.”
Niall nodded sharply. “Aye. Do it.”
Charlotte was already moving towards the door, her gaze determined as she looked at him. “Don’t even try telling me to stay behind. I’m coming with you.”
Niall’s stomach twisted at the thought of taking her with him, but there was no time to argue, and truth be told, he didn’t want to leave her behind. Not when MacAllister might be coming for them. Not when the thought of her out of his sight terrified him.
“Stay close to me,” he murmured as they hurried through the house and stepped out into the courtyard. The air was thick with the coming night, the sky bruising into darkness.
The grooms ran to ready his horse, sensing the urgency in Niall’s stance, the tightness of his voice as he issued commands. He swung up into the saddle, gripping the reins tightly, then reached a hand down to help Charlotte up.
She settled against him without hesitation, her hands gripping the saddle. He felt the warmth of her, solid and real, and it steadied him.
With a final glance toward Joseph, who stood watching with a grim expression, Niall gave a short nod.
“Hold Glennoch,” he ordered. “No one in or out unless they’re known.”
Joseph nodded. “Godspeed.”
Niall dug his heels into the horse’s sides, and they surged forward, hooves striking hard against the packed earth as they galloped into the gathering dark.
