“Dinna fash, Rab. I’m marrying her.”
“Good.”
The two men looked at one another, and Rab smiled. “I hope we can feast together and celebrate both marriages. We didna ken what else to do, but neither of us likes how we didna have our families with us at our wedding.”
“We dinna like it, but I ken ma father understands as well as I do why ye did it. Things would be sitting quite differently right now if ye hadnae. I will always be protective of Catherine. I canna change that, and I dinna wish to. But I have never doubted how much ye love her and that she’s happiest with ye. I can admit when I’ve been wrong, and I’ve erred more times than I like to say aloud. I misjudged ye both on more than one account. For that, I’m sorry.”
Rab nodded, his appreciation silent but heartfelt.
“There,” Caelan said as he pointed toward the woods far to the left. Barely visible through the low hanging limbs, the MacLarens, MacFarlanes, and Dominic could make out movement. “A bluidy surprise they’re in for.”
The combined forces watched as leaves rustled before a wave of Douglases emerged, prepared to race forward, only to rein to a halt. Caelan chuckled as he nudged his horse forward. The animal plodded as Andrew Mòr’s steed matched pace.
“Do ye spy Maxwell?” Andrew chuckled. “Dare I ride close enough to discover if he piddled in his plaid?”
“Ye’ll be able to smell him before ye see it,” Caelan remarked. He and Andrew stopped halfway across the expanse. “Do ye recall the year we were likely seven-and-ten and Maxwell was twenty? Ye and I tied in the foot race. We were so determined to beat one another that I tripped him by accident, and ye stepped on him.”
Andrew hooted with laughter, making many behind the two lairds wonder what could have taken two men who’d been mortal enemies that morning to being old chums. “I do. He protested and said we’d cheated. We’d helped each other to beat him.”
“Helped each other,” Caelan scoffed. “I didna dislike ye back then, auld mon. But I wasna interested in helping ye win. I was hopping mad that we tied.”
“I didna dislike ye either. I ken our clans have always debated our boundaries, and I understand how our alliance with the Campbells made things harder for ye once the MacGregors started encroaching on ye. But until the last raid, I respected ye.”
“And I ken why ye dinna now. I dinna fault ye for that.”
“The Bruce’s missive did more than tell me that Catherine and Rab likely ran away to marry. It detailed what Rab did.”
Caelan glanced back over his shoulder as he nudged his horse a few steps forward as three Douglas representatives walked their horses toward them. “He’s nae proud of that. But he doesnae lose sleep over it, and neither do I.”
“The Bruce believes he did it for Catherine’s sake, something aboot him making sure the three of them could never get to her.”
“That and because he kens what they took from yer family. Our clan will always be important to Rab, and he will always put them first, but the mon believes family is everything. That’s why he’s protective of Catherine and why he couldnae allow members of his own to draw breath while members of yers didna.”
Andrew nodded and turned his attention to the approaching force. His eyes narrowed as they locked on Maxwell Douglas. Caelan watched James “the Black” Douglas and his other brother, who was Catriona’s father, ignore Maxwell. Nigel Douglas had passed his fiery curls to his daughter while his two brothers shared ebony heads of hair. But their faces announced their familial connection louder than any greeting.
“Go home,” Caelan announced. “Turns out we dinna need yer help. Turns out ye dinna offer help.”
“MacLaren,” the Black started.
“Nay.” Caelan held up his hand. “We already ken. Turn around and go home or turn him over to us.”
“Ye ken I’m nae doing that,” the Black responded, even as he scowled at his brother Maxwell.
“Do ye intend to fight the clan ye came to save?” Andrew Mòr asked. “Like MacLaren said, we ken. We all ken.” Andrew pointed over his shoulder. “And soon Brodie will ken too. We’ve made our peace and have formed our own alliance.”
“What?” Maxwell spluttered. He searched beyond Andrew and Caelan. “Where is that little tart?”
“Maxwell,” Nigel growled. “Ye have never been ma favorite brother. I’ve never seen why I needed two. She’s ma daughter.”
“And she betrayed us,” Maxwell argued.
“Enough,” the Black snapped. “So ye learned of our role in yer feud. What now?”
“Ye’re letting us decide?” Caelan pretended to perk up. “If that’s the case, hand him over after all.”
“So yer butcher of a son can do to me what he did to yer own nephews? Och, aye. I heard aboot that,” Maxwell snarled.
“So did I,” Andrew cut in. “And auld rivalries die hard. I’m certain ma Andrew can do far worse than his Rab ever did.” The cold steel lacing the older Andrew’s voice didn’t leave any man in doubt that the younger Andrew could be ruthless too.
