“Which is exactly why ye’re stayin’ here where it’s safe!”
“Safe?” She laughed, the sound brittle and sharp. “Nothing is safe anymore! They took her from this castle, from her own bed! I should have been with her.”
“If ye’d been with her, they’d have taken ye both.” His hands gripped her shoulders. “And then where would we be?”
“I don’t care! I’m going to that meeting!” She pulled away from him, her chin lifting with stubborn defiance. “My presence might force them to reveal themselves. They’ll have to show us Eloise is alive, have to prove they have her before I hand over anything.”
“She’s right, cousin.” Fraser’s voice cut through their argument. “A distraught mother demandin’ to see her child before payin’ ransom? That’s expected. It might work in our favor.”
“Or it might get her killed.” Declan rounded on Fraser. “This is clearly a trap. Ye said so yerself.”
“Aye, it’s a trap. But we can set our own snare within theirs.” Fraser’s dark eyes were calculating. “We’ll have men hidden at every approach. The moment they reveal Eloise’s location, we strike.”
“And if they see our men? If they panic and hurt her?”
“Then we make sure they daenae see our men.” Fraser’s expression hardened. “We’re Highlanders, Declan. We ken these lands better than any English kidnappers. We’ll ghost them so thoroughly, they’ll think they’re alone right up until our blades find their throats.”
Declan wanted to refuse. Wanted to lock Francesca in her chamber and handle this himself. But the determination in her eyes, the same fierce protectiveness he’d seen when she’d defended Eloise at the ceilidh, told him she’d find a way to follow even if he forbade it.
“Fine,” he bit out. “But ye do exactly as I say. Ye daenae leave me sight for even a moment. Understood?”
“Understood.”
“And if things go wrong, if there’s any danger, ye run. Ye leave Eloise to me and ye run to safety.”
“I willnae.”
“That’s the condition.” His voice dropped to steel. “Ye come with me, but ye swear on everythin’ ye hold dear that if I tell ye to run, ye run. Because I cannae protect both of ye if ye’re being stubborn.”
She hesitated, clearly warring with herself. “I swear.”
“Francesca!” Lady Gretchen’s voice carried across the courtyard as she hurried toward them, her face creased with worry. “I came as soon as I heard they were back! Is there any word yet?”
“They found one of the kidnappers,” Francesca said, her voice steadier now. “And we received another note. They’re demanding ransom tonight at the old kirk.”
“And you’re going?” Lady Gretchen looked between them with sharp eyes. “Both of you?”
“I have to. I can’t sit here.”
“Of course, you can’t.” Her aunt pulled her into a fierce hug. “You’re her mother. You’ll do what mothers do—you’ll fight for your child.”
“I’m tryin’ to keep her safe,” Declan said, frustration bleeding through his controlled tone. “Havin’ Francesca there increases the risk.”
“Having her mother there gives Eloise hope,” her aunt countered. “And hope is powerful, young man. Never underestimate it.” She released Francesca and fixed Declan with a look that reminded him uncomfortably of his own grandmother.
She turned back to Francesca. “You be careful out there. That child has already lost her parents once. She cannot lose them again.”
“We’re not her parents.” Francesca started.
“Aren’t you?” Her aunt’s voice softened. “Blood doesn’t make a parent, child. Love does. And you both love her fiercely. That makes you her parents in every way that matters.”
Declan felt something shift in his chest at those words.
Parents.
“We need to move,” he said roughly, covering the unexpected emotion with action. “Fraser, get the men into position. I want scouts watchin’ every approach to the kirk. If a mouse farts within a mile of that place, I want to ken about it.”
“Aye, cousin.” Fraser’s lips twitched despite the gravity of the situation. “We’ll be ready.”
