Page 64 of A Highland Rogue to Ruin

“We’re no’ running away.” Tormund ran from no man. “I nay want her caught in the middle. I nay knew MacDonald’s women would travel with him when we designed our ambush.”

“Who cares? She’s nay the one who’s going to take a sword,” Ghost retorted.

“Women shouldna’ be retaliations,” he rumbled. If only men could let go of the past, instead of retaliate, and fight, and never let their anger die. “Like ye, Ghost, targeting James’s woman with yer arrow strike over Christmastide.” To this day, Tormund was still furious with Ghost for that. “Brighde will be there. She’ll see it.” And she’d always fear me. And the fragile future they’d hoped to plan would be dashed. “Reaper, Niall, I saw how she affected ye. Can ye do that to her? Can ye think on our womenfolk, keening over their losses, and inflict that on her, too?”

Niall was nodding proudly. Reaper stood silent.

“No lass is worth throwing away seven years of yer life,” Ghost growled, his eyes glittering with a need for vengeance. “Ye’ve tracked, stalked, and nearly succeeded in bringing MacDonald to justice, since the Crown refused to intervene. Let’s slit his throat like we planned. Or have ye grown soft and wish now to kiss MacDonald’s arse now that ye’ve made his sister yer tart—”

“The ambush is off, Brodie!” he thundered, yanking his man forward by his tunic.

Silence descended again. A moment later, Niall’s hand slipped onto his wrist, nudging for him to relinquish his cousin. He shook his uncle away and tightened his fist.

“I am the chief of the MacLeods. And though the world has tried time and again to strip us of our heartbeats, as long as my sire’s blood still lives, I am telling ye this. Ye will never speak of my woman in such a way again. Ye will call off the lads. There’s a better way.”

“If there were a better way, we would have found it by now,” Ghost spat, huffing a sardonic laugh. “Our people deserve justice for Owen.”

“Owen deserves justice. He deserves for us to uncover the truth of what happened to his wife, for therein lies the one we need to target. But Brighde changes everything. And the bairn in Lady Aileana’s belly deserves a better hand than what Goraidh was dealt.” Silence. He’d mentioned that name. He hadn’t breathed it aloud in seven years and yet, secrets long kept brimmed at the surface, needing to cascade over the fall to be set free. “What Owen and I and hell, even ye, Brodie MacLeod, were dealt.”

“James’s urchin will grow just fine without him. We did the same.”

“Did we? Grow fine? Ye’re late for training. Ye were gone last night. Ye’ve defied me. And ye stole my supplies and gave orders to my men without my permission. After this, ye’ll call off the men ye put in place and face discipline. I’ll hear no further arguments. Pick up yer weapon, man, and en garde.” He relinquished his cousin with a jolt, who shrugged smugly to straighten his tunic. Ghost picked up his claymore, swiveled it to find his grip. “Allez.”

Except Ghost didn’t begin the exercise. He stared at Tormund, eyes dead, then sheathed his claymore and stalked through the grasses to his horse.

“Brodie,” he warned.

“Ye’re making a mistake,” Ghost said, mounting and adjusting his reins. “I see everything that’s happening here, and never did I think I’d be betrayed again, least of all by ye.” Then he clicked his tongue and banged his heels, galloping away.

“Should I go after him?” one of his men said, stalking up beside him.

“Nay, let him release his anger.” But Tormund turned back to his men. “Break, and meet me back at the campsite this eve for further orders.”

Something wasn’t right. Ghost’s defiance was unusual, when normally he was the most loyal of men, even if battle-hardened. And betrayed by him? All men who disobeyed their orders faced discipline. He wasn’t flogging them and locking them in the pillory to be nibbled upon by rats. At worst, Ghost would be stripped of some duties for a time, adding in more intensive training.

“Would ye marry her?” Niall asked softly. “If her brother could be convinced? Do ye love her? Are ye willing to lay down yer sword for her? Because if so, the peace might still be achieved.”

There was hope in Niall’s voice that Tormund had not heard until the start of the faire, when Niall’d first discovered his tryst at the horserace, and he finally looked at his bastard uncle who rested a palm upon his shoulder.

Tormund exhaled. He paced. Envisioned his angel, laughing, trusting in him. How he’d allowed her to see the darkest shadow within him, and yet all she’d wanted to do was take his pain away. Pain so far buried it had numbed long ago. A lass who wanted freedom. Wanted a family. Wanted him.

“Aye. I would. If she’d be safe.”

“Then mayhap she holds the key to finally gaining James’s ear.”

But at this, Tormund shook his head. Clenched his jaw. “The problem is, she’s no’ safe. Nor will she be, until I ken for certain the ambush is quelled.”

And even then, there was still the matter of old adversaries coming out of the woodwork to sabotage what a union between him and a MacDonald would build. There was still the issue of the secrets he protected, and the risk of them coming to light. But he could slay only one dragon at a time.

“Then I suppose, lad, we ought to intercept Brodie’s plan.”

Tormund clenched his fist and flashed a subtle look between his two remaining most-trusted men. Spoke under his breath. “Niall, come with me. Reaper…spread the word to our remaining men.” He hated the acrid taste of his next words. “If Ghost approaches any of them, they are to tell me immediately.”

…

Brighde draped the reins over Sunshine’s head. With her documents safely stowed in her saddlebag and her mantle cinched about her, she was ready for her journey.

“Are ye sure ye’re all right?” James asked, then cupped her cheek. “Ye havena been yer normal sunshine self today.”