Ashcombe approved of the terminology. It was proper, businesslike. Not weighed down by sentiment or foolish notions of morality.
"And your supply?" he asked. "The women you procure for these auctions, how has that been affected?"
"I've had tae be more careful. Cannae hit the same territories as frequently. Some of the smaller clans have started postin’ guards on their outlyin’ farms." Graham poured himself more wine. "It's cuttin’ intae me profits significantly."
"How unfortunate." Ashcombe turned from the window. "What if I told you I could solve both our problems simultaneously?"
Graham set down his goblet, interest sparking in his eyes. "I'm listenin’."
"Your problem is that you need merchandise and can't acquire it as easily as before. My problem is that MacDougal is sheltering my property and building alliances against us." Ashcombe moved back to the table, his mind already working through the details. "What if we were to conduct a raid? Not targeting the girl directly but hurting MacDougal where he's vulnerable."
"His outlyin’ villages," Graham said slowly, understanding dawning. "Hit his people, take the women, show him he cannae protect everyone."
"Exactly. And if we happen to acquire merchandise for your next auction in the process, well, that's simply efficient business." Ashcombe picked up his wine again, taking a small sip despite the taste. "MacDougal fancies himself a protector. Let's remind him of the cost of that protection."
"It would need tae be planned carefully. His patrols are extensive."
"But not infinite. No man has enough warriors to guard every farm, every cottage, every isolated homestead." Ashcombe's voice was calm, rational. "We simply need to identify which locations are most vulnerable and least likely to receive rapid assistance."
Graham was already pulling out maps, spreading them across the table with the eagerness of a man seeing profit within reach. "Here… this village is nearly eight miles from the castle. The patrol route passes through twice daily, but there's a six-hour gap between passes. If we timed it right..."
"How many women could you take in six hours?"
"From that village? Maybe ten, fifteen if we're quick and dinnae encounter resistance." Graham's finger traced other locations on the map. "And here, this farmstead is even more isolated. Family of five, includin’ three daughters of marriageable age. Nay close neighbors, nay guards."
"Perfect." Ashcombe studied the map with the same attention he'd give a military campaign. Because that's what that was, acampaign to reclaim what was rightfully his and punish the man who'd dared to interfere. "When can you organize this?"
"Give me a week. I'll need tae gather men, prepare the routes, ensure we have safe houses ready tae hold the women until the next auction." Graham was already making notes. "Dae ye want tae be present fer the raid?"
"God, no. I'll leave the crude work to you. I will camp nearby with my men." Ashcombe waved a dismissive hand. "I'm paying you to handle such matters. What I want is results. I want MacDougal's people to suffer. I want him to understand that protecting the girl has consequences."
"And if he hands her over tae stop the raids?"
"Then we've achieved our objective without further complications." Though Ashcombe doubted it would be that simple.
From everything he'd learned about Alpin MacDougal, the man was stubborn and idealistic, precisely the type to refuse compromise even when it would serve his interests.
Which was fine. Ashcombe had learned long ago that idealists were predictable. They made choices based on principle rather than practicality, which made them easy to manipulate once you understood their values.
MacDougal valued protecting his people. So Ashcombe would threaten those people until the laird's principles crumbled under the weight of responsibility.
"What about the girl herself?" Graham asked. "If we capture her during one of these raids."
"Then you send word immediately and I'll come collect her." Ashcombe's voice hardened. "But she's not to be sold, not to be touched beyond what's necessary for restraint. She's mine, Graham. Make sure your men understand that."
"Of course, Yer Grace." Graham was already calculating, Ashcombe could see it. Probably wondering if he could get away with selling the girl anyway if the price was high enough.
"I'll know if you try to auction her," Ashcombe said mildly. "And I'll ensure you regret it for whatever brief time remains of your miserable life. Are we clear?"
Graham's throat worked. "Crystal clear, Yer Grace."
"Excellent." Ashcombe finished his wine, grimaced and rose. "I'll expect regular updates on your progress. Every three days, a messenger with details of what villages you've hit, how many women you've acquired, and any response from MacDougal."
"And payment, Yer Grace? Fer organizin’ the raids?"
"You'll take your payment from the auction proceeds, same as always. Consider this an investment in rebuilding your business." Ashcombe moved toward the door. "Though if you manage to create enough chaos that MacDougal actually returns the girl voluntarily, I'll pay a bonus. Shall we say... three hundred pounds?"
Graham's eyes widened. Three hundred pounds was a fortune.
