“It’s a chance for Scotland to have a king again,” Murdoch insisted.
Angus looked him up and down from head to foot. “Nay, it’s a chance for you to wear a coronet on your head. That’s right. I learned of your treachery just this morning. You’re dreaming if you think you’ll ever be a duke, and I won’t let you use Kinloch, and the blood of my clansmen, to seek your fortune.”
Angus touched the point of his sword to Murdoch’s chest.
His brother-in-law frowned at him. “If you’re going to do it, do it now. Then everyone will know which side of the borderyoursword falls on.”
Angus clenched his jaw and felt the old familiar fires of violence and vengeance burning through his body. It was a darkness unlike any other, and he wondered suddenly how many men he had killed in his lifetime, without a single thought to repercussions. The death of one man had never mattered to him before, because he had had no regard for human life, not even his own.Especiallynot his own.
But this man was Gwendolen’s brother. He was Onora’s son.
Without lowering his sword or taking his eyes off Murdoch’s, he stepped back and said to his men, “Lock him up. But take him to the West Tower. I don’t want him anywhere near his sister.”
Murdoch offered no resistance as three clansmen quickly escorted him out. He looked as if he fully expected to triumph in the end.
Angus secured the powder magazine, then returned to the bailey where dozens of clansmen—MacEwens, MacLeans, and MacDonalds alike—all stood in fearful silence, staring at him.
Were they judging him? he wondered, as he moved to the center of the crowd. Did they think him weak for sparing the life of his enemy?
He stood before all the men and said nothing for a long time as he looked into their eyes. He turned a full circle, scrutinizing each one of them individually, challenging anyone to voice disapproval, or raise a sword against him.
No one uttered a word. They simply watched him, waiting for something to happen.
He looked up at the morning sky, then at the four corner towers of Kinloch, and thrust his sword into the dirt.
“I am Angus Bradach MacDonald,”he shouted,“and I am chief and laird here!If anyone standing in this bailey is a Jacobite, so be it. You may fight for the Stuart King if that is your choice. But Kinloch is neutral ground. All wars will be fought on distant battlefields. Not here.” He turned around. “Men of Moncrieffe! I thank you for joining me in this fight today! Remain and feast with us tonight, then you may go home to your own laird, your wives and your children, knowing that you have an ally in me, Laird of Kinloch. Everyone else—pledge loyalty to me now, or begone!”
The Moncrieffe clansmen began to back away while all those who remained got down on one knee. There were none who were willing to fight him, nor did anyone turn away.
Angus spotted Gordon MacEwen standing in the arched doorway to the Great Hall. The old steward met his gaze, nodded at him, then dropped to one knee.
Afterward, Angus pulled his sword from the ground and moved through the crowd to address Gordon. “You’re that quick to desert your MacEwen chief, when I locked you up like a turncoat and accused you of treachery?”
Gordon met his gaze directly. “Murdoch MacEwen wanted to drag us all into the war between England and Spain. Even me. He told me I had to fight, or he’d have my head.”
Angus studied the man’s stricken face. “Your head has better uses elsewhere, Gordon. You’re a good steward. You work well with numbers. The treasury needs you, and I’ll have you back in that position if you’re willing.”
Gordon’s eyes warmed to him. “I am, sir.”
Angus rested a hand on his shoulder. “Good. Now tell me something. Where is Onora?”
He needed to know the situation here at Kinloch and make certain that she would not try to free her son, or seduce other men into doing it for her.
Gordon’s face paled. “I’m afraid you won’t find her.”
“Why not?”
“She fled the castle two days ago. She ran off to marry your cousin and Laird of War.”
Angus dropped his hand to his side and regarded Gordon questioningly. “Lachlan is alive? And you say he intends to marry Onora?”
No, that was not possible. It was a trick. Angus knew Lachlan too well. He would never marry Onora, or any other woman. Marriage was not for him. Never again in this lifetime.
“Aye, it’s true,” Gordon insisted. “Onora freed him from the prison and wrote a long, poignant message to her son, informing him of their love for each other and begging him not to come after them. She said her happiness depended on it and promised they would not interfere with his plans. Imagine that.”
Angus was exceptionally pleased to hear that his cousin and friend was alive.
As for his unlikely marriage—it was a clever ruse and means of escape, nothing more. Angus was confident that time would soon prove him right.
