While he hunkered down to wait, he thought about Alison’s parents. He hoped his in-laws had left the castle as promised. He didn’t want Ismay’s ears to hear the things the MacMillans spewed about him. He didn’t want to think of them now. In fact, it had been some time since their accusing, hateful eyes haunted his wakefulthoughts. Since he met Miss Drummond, he hardly thought of anyone else.
“Lochiel!” Geoffry ran toward him from across the glen. His face was red and his breath, short. “MacKintosh must have discovered that we blocked the ford. He has moved his men, aboot a thousand strong, two miles west of here.”
“Gather the men,” Constantine ordered. “Tell Rauf MacDonald to remain here with fifty of his best men to keep the ford secured.” He looked around for his messenger and called him over. “Find Ennis Cameron of Erracht. Tell him to take a number of his men, via boats, to the northern side of Loch Arkaig. They are to take down the MacKintosh’s rear force.”
“What of us?” Geoffry asked, ready to gather the men.
Constantine couldn’t deny that his blood rushed through his blood like liquid fire bursting through a mountaintop. He might not enjoy taking lives, but he was born for battle. “We will make the eighteen-mile march around the head of Loch Arkaig. There, we will outflank the enemy and attack from the west. We will have him covered on every side.”
Geoffry smiled. “A good plan, Lochiel.”
Lachlan appeared hurrying toward them before Geoffry set off to his task. “Lochiel, the Baron of Argyll has arrived in the camps, bringing with him about three hundred Campbells. He seeks a word with ye.”
What the hell were the Campbells doing here? They were rumored to be part of the Chattan. If they had come to fight for the MacKintoshes, Constantine would put the MacGregors to the enemy’s arses. The two clans were fierce enemies. Even more so than the Camerons and MacKintoshes. The Campbells tried to have the MacGregor name abolished in the proscriptive acts of the MacGregors fifty-four years ago under King Charles l. If the baron saw even a trace of the MacGregors here, on the side of the Camerons, war would break out and it would take him longer to get back to Tor Castle.
He would soon find out why they were here by granting the Campbell lord an audience. Only Geoffry and Lewis went with him. If the Campbells committed any treachery after calling for an audience, his two cousins were all he needed.
When they arrived in the Campbell camp, the baron promptly informed him why he was there. A good thing too, it gave Constantine time to call off his forces.
“I have arrived with three hundred of my most skilled men,” the baron boasted. “I advise ye, as I will advise the MacKintosh chief, that I will add my forces to the battle and fight against whomever initiates this fight.”
Aye, Constantine was born for war. And he’d fought his share. He was also born to love Ismay Drummond and he wanted to do that in peace. “Why?” he asked Campbell.
“Why question it. Just agree to peaceful terms and this feud will end.”
“What terms?”
“The MacKintoshes must agree to sell the disputed territory. Ye must agree to purchase it.”
Constantine didn’t flinch. If the terms weren’t fair, he wouldn’t agree to them. “Purchase what is already mine?”
The baron cast him a sly smile. “The land was never yers. Yer kin took it. Aye, it had been seemingly abandoned by the MacKintoshes. But they have the deeds. They own the land.”
“How much?” Constantine asked, wanting to be done here and either fight or go home.
“Pay MacKintosh 25,000 merks.”
Constantine was a bit surprised by the fair amount. He narrowed his eyes on the Campbell. “What of his sons and his cattle? He made demands that I will never agree to.”
The baron smiled and nodded. “Aye, I’ve heard aboot his sons and his cattle. His first son is dead due to consequences hebrought upon himself. His second son stabbed ye with a dirk. And the cattle…well, seeing we are in Lochaber, ye have protection and there is nothing he can do about his herd.” He stopped for a moment and looked Constantine over. “Ye are a formidable enemy, Cameron.”
Constantine nodded. “An enemy neither John MacKintosh nor ye wants opposin’ ye.”
Campbell let out a boisterous laugh but nodded. “Ye agree then?”
“I do,” Constantine let him know.
“Verra well. I am certain MacKintosh will agree, as well. He doesna want to face my men.” Campbell motioned one of his men forward and instructed him to send for John MacKintosh. “The exchange will take place in Clunes,” he advised Constantine. “Three days from now the Cameron/MacKintosh feud will end.”
They wouldn’t be fighting. A sense of relief washed over Constantine. He didn’t want to pay for the land the MacKintoshes had practically given up. But if it ended the long feud, he would buy the land and shut them all up.
*
Constantine sent mostof his men back to their homes, and rode toward Clunes with his four cousins by his side. He would rather be heading home to Tor and…to Miss Drummond. Ismay. He’d kept her kiss from his thoughts all day, else the memory of her soft sweet lips would consume him and compel him to think on nothing else. Which would not have gone well with the Baron of Argyll.
But now, riding in silence, he let himself remember the sight of her, the scent of her coming close, stretching upward to kiss him. His heart crashed against his ribs like a fishing boat caught on the tumultuous sea, shattering from a power against which he was helpless.
When she had clutched his plaid and pulled him down, he felt the power of lightning go through him, stilling his blood flowing throughhis veins and turning it into liquid fire.
