Campbell's smile was thin. "Still think of me as yer conscience, Munro. The voice of reason temperin’ yer more... impulsive instincts."
Roderick drained his whisky, the burn doing nothing to cool his temper. "I want tae send that letter within the week."
"Ye shall."
"And I want assurances that when MacDonald refuses, and he will refuse, we'll have a plan fer the next step."
"We'll have several plans. Contingencies upon contingencies." Campbell stood, signaling the meeting was over. "But they all require one thing from ye, Munro."
"What's that?"
"Patience. Can ye manage that? Or will ye charge off half-cocked and ruin everythin’?"
Roderick rose as well, his muscles taut with suppressed fury. "I can be patient. When I ken there's a purpose tae the waitin’."
"The purpose is victory. Nae immediate, nae flashy, but inevitable." Campbell walked him toward the door. "Trust in that. Trust in me. And most importantly, trust that MacDonald has made more enemies than he realizes. Men who will remember his defiance when the time comes tae choose sides."
"And me daughter? What happens tae her while we're being patient?"
"She becomes MacDonald's problem, nae yers." Campbell's voice was matter-of-fact. "If he treats her poorly, it reflects badly on him. If he fails tae consummate the marriage, we have legal grounds tae challenge. And if she's miserable enough, she might even provide us with information we can use."
"Ye want me tae use me own daughter as a spy?"
"I want ye tae use every resource available tae achieve yer goals." Campbell opened the door. "That's what leaders dae, Munro. They make hard choices. They sacrifice what they must tae win what matters."
Roderick stepped into the corridor, his mind churning with plans and contingencies and the bitter taste of political necessity.
"One more thing," Campbell said from the doorway. "Yer other daughter. Nessa, was it?"
"Aye. What about her?"
"Keep her close. Keep her safe. Keep her available." Campbell's eyes glinted. "If we need tae make new arrangements down the road, it's best tae have options ready."
"I thought ye said nae tae rush."
"I said nae tae offer her yet. But being prepared is different from being hasty." Campbell's smile was cold. "After all, we never ken when opportunity might knock. And when it daes, we'd best be ready tae answer."
He closed the door, leaving Roderick alone in the dim corridor.
One daughter lost to MacDonald. Another waiting at Foulis, young and biddable and potentially useful. Roderick's hands clenched into fists as he walked toward the castle exit where his men waited.
Patience, Campbell had said. Strategy. Political maneuvering.
But how long could a man be patient while his position crumbled? How long could he wait while MacDonald enjoyed what should have been Ross's prize?
Not forever. That much was certain. And when his patience ran out, when Campbell's careful plans moved too slowly, Roderick would act on his own. Let MacDonald enjoy his stolen bride while he could. Nothing lasted forever in the Highlands, especially not happiness built on other men's humiliation.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
"The sky's finally clear."
Liliane looked up from the book she'd been pretending to read, finding Tòrr in the doorway of their chamber. He was still dressed in training clothes, his shirt clinging to his shoulders with sweat, his damp, dark hair damp.
"So it is," she said carefully.
"I thought we might take that ride, if ye're still willin’."
She set down the book, her heart beginning to race. Two days had passed since their conversation in the portrait gallery, two days of careful politeness, of meals shared with his family, of sleeping in his bed while he remained in that damned chair.
