Roderick's hands clenched. "I'm nae afraid of war."
"Nay. But ye're smart enough tae ken ye cannae win one. Nae against MacDonald on his own lands, with his clan united behind him." Campbell's voice carried brutal honesty. "He's younger, stronger, and his warriors love him. They'd die fer him without question. Can ye say the same about yer own men?"
The silence was answer enough.
"So we infiltrate his keep," Roderick said. "But that still leaves the question of how. Poison? An accident?"
"All of the above. Multiple possibilities, multiple chances fer success." Campbell's smile was thin and cold. "The beauty of havin' men inside is that they can wait fer opportunities. A hunt where MacDonald rides ahead of his guards. A late night in his chambers. A meal where poison can be slipped intae his cup."
"And if it fails? If our men are caught?"
"Then they ken naethin' that can be traced back tae us. They're mercenaries, hired through intermediaries, paid in coin that cannae be connected tae Munro or the Pact."
Roderick moved tae the sideboard, pourin' himself fresh wine. "Who dae ye have in mind?"
"I have people. Men who've done this kind of work before." Campbell's expression gave nothin' away. "Displaced warriors who've lost lands or position and need coin tae survive. They're nae loyal tae any clan, which makes them perfect."
"And ye trust them?"
"I trust their greed. And their fear of what happens if they fail or talk."
"From Pact funds or yer own coffers?"
"Daes it matter? The result is the same—MacDonald dead, yer daughter available fer remarriage, and the western trade routes firmly under our control."
Roderick barked a laugh. "Nay. I left morality behind when I decided tae sell me daughters at auction. This is just the next logical step."
"Good. Then we're agreed." Campbell moved to the window. Rain still fell in sheets. "I'll make the arrangements. Within a month, maybe two, we'll have people inside Keppoch who can strike when ready."
"I want updates. Regular reports."
"Ye'll have them. But ye need tae trust me tae handle the details." Campbell's pale eyes were sharp. "The less ye ken about specifics, the better. If this goes wrong, ye need tae honestly say ye kent naethin' about the particulars."
"Plausible deniability."
"Exactly." Campbell moved toward the door, then paused. "When MacDonald dies, there'll be questions. So make sure ye're visible, surrounded by people, far from Keppoch when the deed is done."
"I ken how this works, Campbell."
"Good. Then we understand each other. I'll send word when the first men are in position. Until then, maintain appearances. Be the concerned faither willin' tae accept an unfortunate situation fer the sake of peace."
After Campbell left, Roderick stood alone in his solar, starin' into the fire. MacDonald dead. Liliane returned. The marriage to Ross secured. His position within the Pact restored. All the pieces fallin' into place exactly as they should have.
And if a few more bodies had to fall to make that happen? Well. That was simply the cost of power.
A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. "Enter."
One of his guards stepped inside. "Me laird, there's a messenger arrived. From the village. Says there's been sightings of MacDonald men near our western borders."
"MacDonald men? Here?" Roderick's attention sharpened. "How many?"
"The messenger wasnae certain. Said they were seen in the forest, movin' quiet-like."
"Double the guard on the keep. I want patrols along all our borders, especially the western approaches." Roderick's mind was already working through possibilities. "And send someone tae fetch Campbell back. He needs tae hear this."
After the guard left, Roderick moved back to the window, his eyes scanin' the rain-soaked landscape. MacDonald men on his borders. That suggested MacDonald wasn't content to simply hold onto Liliane and wait. He was planning something.
The question was what.
