“She’s already dead.”
“Harkirk’smenattackedusa sennight after they burned Glen Arrin,” Brochain said. “They took Finian’s daughter, and in return, they wanted your heads.”
Alex tossed a peat brick upon the fire, understanding what the baron had intended. “If Harkirk hired you to kill us, then he’d keep his hands clean.”
“Aye.” Brochain’s gaze tightened. “He’s nearly annihilated our clan. We’ve hardly any men left at all.” Bitterness lined his tone when he added, “My brother took a group of the others, planning to attack Harkirk’s forces and rescue his daughter. He was the only survivor.”
Alex took a sip of ale from the drinking horn he’d brought with him and passed it to Brochain. Thetánaistehesitated a moment—for drinking from it would signify an alliance between them. But eventually he drank, passing it on to each of his men.
“Do the other clans know about the bounty?”
Brochain shrugged. “I don’t know. And now I may not see my brother alive again.” He nodded at the others, who numbered fewer than a dozen. “We can’t attempt another rescue. It would be suicide.”
Alex settled back to think. “Have you spoken to the other clans?”
“They refused to help us.” Brochain rested his wrist upon his knee, staring into the fire. “I fear our only chance of surviving this is to let Finian go.” His hand clenched into a fist. “But he’s my brother.”
“We’ll help you get them back,” Bram spoke up. He eyed Alex and said, “I swore I’d free Harkirk’s remaining prisoners.” He raised his wrists, showing Brochain the scars that remained from the chains he’d worn for seven years. “But we won’t attack them directly. We’ll have to get inside another way.”
Alex read his brother’s mind. “You want the MacLachors to take us in as their prisoners?”
“No. We’ll get help from Nairna’s father.” The chief of the MacPhersons had formed a fragile truce with Harkirk, but it was wearing thin.
Alex began outlining his idea, drawing in the sand. Brochain added his own information that Finian had gathered from his two encounters with Harkirk. They spent hours discussing their plans, and when it was done, Alex felt a sense of satisfaction. If they freed Harkirk’s prisoners, it would diminish his power. Not only that, but when those men returned to their own clans, it would help solidify stronger alliances.
After they finished an evening meal prepared by Brochain’s sister, they heard the sounds of horses approaching. Alex stood, reaching for his shield and weapons as he left the shelter. Outside, the sun was sinking below the horizon and he saw Callum, Laren and two other MacKinloch men approaching.
From the distraught look upon his wife’s face, he knew something terrible had happened.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded.
Her cheeks were ghostly pale and her lips trembled as she spoke. “Adaira was taken hostage by the MacLachors. She’s gone.”
Larenstaredinshockas Alex grabbed one of the MacLachors by his tunic, choking off the man’s air. “You said nothing about seizing my daughter, Brochain.”
Her husband had tightened his grip, hardly caring that his enemy couldn’t answer. Laren dismounted and ran to his side. “Alex. We need answers from him.”
At last he let go and Brochain’s face went from blue to red. He coughed heavily, bending over as he struggled to breathe. “Finian,” was all he could say.
The fury on Alex’s face didn’t diminish, and Laren wrapped her arms around his waist. She held on for a moment as if she could steady the rage.
He took the man by his arm and forced him up. “Did you know about this?”
MacLachor shook his head. “No. But . . . when we attacked Glen Arrin, Finian wanted a hostage. It didn’t work then, but he must have returned.” He sat down, reaching for a cup of ale to clear his throat. “I suppose he thought to trade one daughter for another.”
Laren gripped Alex’s arm for support. A hostage? Her baby? The tenuous thread she had on her own anger was ready to snap. Baron Harkirk was heartless, an Englishman who kept Scots as slaves and worshipped silver. To even imagine her own daughter in the same vicinity as such a monster . . . it made her feel sick to her stomach.
Callum stood next to Bram, and a ruthless air of fury emanated from him. He knew, full well, what Adaira would face in Harkirk’s stronghold. Though his outer scars were healing, no one knew what horrors Callum had witnessed. Though he’d helped the others with the rebuilding, Laren could see the hollowness that haunted him.
“We’ll get her back,” Brochain said. “Finian wasn’t thinking clearly.” He eyed Alex, rubbing his throat. “We’ll leave at dawn.”
AlextookLareninsideone of the abandoned homes and started a fire in the hearth. Laren’s fingers were trembling, her face filled with worry. Alex stood beside her and rested his arm around her. “I’ll find Adaira. I swear it.”
“Wewill find her,“ she corrected. “I’ll not be left behind while my daughter is in the hands of that monster.”
Alex took her hand. “If you think I’ll allow you to endanger yourself, bringing you into Harkirk’s fortress, you’re mistaken.” He brought his hand to her swelling womb. “Or have you forgotten that there’s another child who must be kept safe?”
“I won’t go back without her,” she insisted. Her eyes filled up with tears. “What kind of a man would take a baby and hand her over to the enemy?”
