But damnation, he couldn’t.
MacDonald had made him an offer he couldn’t refuse, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t turn it to his advantage. “Call off your dogs.”
MacDonald’s brows gathered in genuine confusion. “Dogs?”
“Your cateran kin, the MacRuairis.”
“Ah …” A long, slow smile spread across MacDonald’s face.
“You find something amusing?” Tor asked.
“You never asked about the warriors who will make up the secret guard.”
MacDonald recited a list of ten names. Tor frowned at a few of them, but when MacDonald reached the last name, Tor returned his smile with one that was much more devious.Lachlan MacRuairi. “Why didn’t you say that in the first place?” Having MacRuairi under his heel alone would almost be worth it. “What’s his special skill, cutting throats?”
MacDonald laughed. “Something to that effect.”
“And you trust him with this?” MacRuairi’s loyalty was suspect at best, nonexistent at worst. “How can you be sure he won’t go running to Edward or MacDougall the first chance he gets?”
MacDonald nodded. “He won’t. You’ll have to trust me.”
It was a lot to ask. He knew the blackguard. After a long pause he nodded.
“Then you agree?”
Tor thought for a moment. Though everything MacDonald said made sense, something about marrying the lass still bothered him. But so did the idea of leaving her to an uncertain fate. “I do, for what it’s worth. But what you ask may be impossible. These men are more enemies than a fighting force.”
Hell, there was even a bloody Englishman among the names.
“They will follow you,” MacDonald said confidently. “Your reputation is well known, even in the borders. Men line up for the opportunity to fight with you despite the knowledge that only a very few of the toughest will survive what is it called … perdition?” Tor nodded, amused by the name given the two-week period of grueling training all his men endured—or, more often, didn’t. “What is it they say? You’re a man who could turn a group of ten-year-old lasses into toughened warriors.” He grinned at the jest. “Why do you think we wanted you so badly?”
One side of Tor’s mouth lifted. Ten-year-old lasses would be easier than this bunch. “I know how to train soldiers, not make miracles.”
MacDonald guffawed and slapped him on the back. “There’s always a first.” He stood and went to the sideboard, pouring a cup ofuisge-beathafor each of them. Handing one to Tor, he lifted his glass. “To new alliances.”
Tor returned the gesture and drank. But it did nothing to warm the chill that swept behind his neck. Getting the Nicolsons and MacRuairis off his back was worth the risk for now, but he hoped he didn’t come to regret his decision. He knew well what was at stake if his involvement with Bruce was discovered.
He’d bought peace, but at what cost?
