When Seamus saw his older brother, he hurried over to him…then, he spotted Morna and reflexively recoiled in surprise. Having thus betrayed himself by his reaction, he plastered a wide and insincere grin on his face as he greeted them both. “Morna! Good gracious, lass, this is a surprise! What are ye doing here? It has been so long since I have seen ye!”
Malcolm scowled. “From what Morna has told me, Brother, it has not been long at all since you have seen her. And from the look on your face, you know full well why she has come.”
Seamus feigned innocence. “I dinnae know what ye refer to in either case, I assure ye!”
Morna took a step toward him dangerously. “Your villainy has caught up with you at last, Seamus MacLeod.”
“Morna has told me that you have manipulated events quite shamefully in order to force Isla to wed young Brodie against her will and that you made her a party to it by forcing her to hand over one of her sleeping potions,” Malcolm said darkly. “I did not wish to believe it, but from the guilty look on your face, I see that it is most probably true.”
“If I have a ‘look’ on my face, Brother, it is most likely disappointment and annoyance that this accursed woman has chosen to disrupt my daughter’s special day with a pack of spurious falsehoods!” Seamus huffed indignantly.
“These are not falsehoods!”
Brodie’s voice echoed across the courtyard as he darted toward them with the guards at his heels. The pain in his ribs was so excruciating that he could scarcely breathe. He was pale, trembling, and bathed in sweat from the exertion.
Still, he had made it, by God. Through sheer determination and force of will—and love for Margaret—he had triumphed.
At least momentarily.
Just as he breathlessly reached Malcolm and Morna, the guards caught up with him and seized him by the arms, pulling him backward. He gasped and thrashed like a fish out of water as the agony in his torso became nigh unbearable.
“Sorry for the disruption,” the first guard told Seamus. “We shall return him to his chamber at once so that he may, er, prepare for the ceremony.”
“No, you will release him immediately,” Malcolm commanded them. “His station is far above your own.”
The second guard looked bewildered. “But Laird, Seamus ordered us—”
“And my station is far above my brother’s,” Malcolm reminded them, casting a baleful eye toward Seamus. “Even if he seems to have forgotten that these recent years. Besides, I wish to hear what this young man has to say. Clearly, it is quite urgent if he has gone to so much trouble to free himself.”
Seamus snorted derisively. “‘Free himself?’ He has hardly been a prisoner, Malcolm! He was in his chamber preparing for the wedding, nothing more sinister than that! These young people are prone to such fits of pique and melodrama, especially on a day such as this one! It is best to pay them no heed and simply proceed.”
Malcolm folded his arms menacingly. “‘Pay them no heed?’ You would say such a thing about your daughter and my niece? Dear God, Seamus, while I was nursing my grief over Kenna and my bairn, what sort of man have I allowed you to become?”
“The sort of man who would drug me and his own child so that he might deceive us into believing we had no choice but to marry in the name of her spoiled honor!” Brodie accused. “I have new evidence at hand, sir, beyond even what Morna has already shared with you.”
“Then speak, lad, and be unafraid,” Malcolm told him, his brow furrowing.
By this point, the wedding guests were crowded around to watch and listen to this confrontation. Many were aghast that such scandalous charges had been leveled at Seamus, including Lady MacKenzie, who rushed over to him with a scowl.
“Brodie, what on Earth is the meaning of all this? Do you know how difficult it was for me to arrange this union between our family and the MacLeods? Do you not realize how crucial such a joining of our clans will be for our security and our future? Why must you ruin it so with these wild claims? How have I failed you as a parent that you feel the need to act so willful and selfish?”
“‘Tis not selfishness, dear mother,” he assured her. “Quite the opposite, in fact. Isla loves another, and I see no reason why she should be subjected to a marriage she does not wish for…especially one that has been insisted upon under false pretenses. As I said, I have the proof of it.”
“Then share it with us, child, without further delay,” Morna encouraged.
“You already know that Margaret told Morna about the bottle she discovered in Seamus’s study,” he began. “The one he obtained from Morna…which, she will freely confirm, she gave to him, albeit under duress. He used the contents of that bottle to induce a deep sleep that robbed us of our memories of the night so that we would be inclined to believe the worst when we woke up in bed together. What you do not yet know is that a scullery girl from the kitchens spoke to Margaret and confessed to her involvement as well: Seamus ordered her to plant spots of chicken blood in the sheets so that we would think it was evidence of Isla’s maidenhead being violated.”
There were numerous gasps and exclamations of surprise from the guests.
Brodie knew full well that his tactic was a flimsy one and that it would most probably fail. In attempting it, he realized that he might even destroy the career of the servant girl in question—if she even made herself known, which he highly doubted.
But this was it. The last card up his sleeve. He had no choice left but to play it and hope for the best.
“More preposterous lies!” Seamus insisted. “Can ye not hear how pathetically desperate these stories are? The lad will clearly say anything to impede this ceremony and to tarnish the MacLeod name in the process!”
“Not the MacLeod name, sir, no,” Brodie countered. “Only yours.”
“These are damning accusations indeed,” Malcolm said. “It seems to me that the most logical course of action would be to hear from this scullery girl herself.” He addressed the crowd. “Step forward, child, and fear not Seamus’s wrath at your words, for my authority as laird countermands it thoroughly.”
