Page 64 of The Highlander’s Savage Vow

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

MacNab castle

"Failure."

The word hung in the air of Castle MacNab's great hall like the stench of rotting meat. Murray MacNab stood with his back to the trembling messenger, his hands clasped behind him as he stared out at the grey waters of the loch beyond his walls.

"Say it again," he commanded, his voice deceptively calm.

The messenger's voice cracked. "The... the infiltration failed, me laird. All our men are dead or captured. Lady MacDuff survived."

Murray's knuckles went white where his hands gripped each other. Weeks of planning and careful infiltration. Men he'd trained personally, positioned perfectly within MacDuff walls. All of it undone by one Highland bastard's protective instincts.

"And Dougal?"

"Nay news, me laird. We think they may still be holding him in the castle."

"Leave me," Murray said quietly.

The messenger fled with unseemly haste, his boots echoing off the stone walls as he escaped to spread word of their laird's black mood. Smart man. Murray's rages were legendary, and today's news would test even the most considerable restraint.

He moved to his desk, spreading out maps of the MacDuff lands he'd studied until he could navigate them in his sleep. Every path, every watchtower, every weakness in their defenses. But none of it mattered if Ruaridh MacDuff had taken to guarding his wife like a rabid dog with a bone.

A knock at his solar door interrupted his brooding. "Enter."

Bruce MacNab slipped inside—a thin, clever man whose loyalty had been purchased with gold and threats in equal measure. Murray's most trusted strategist, though trust was perhaps too strong a word for their relationship.

"I heard about the garden," Bruce said carefully.

"Aye. Twenty men lost, and the bitch still draws breath." Murray turned from the map, his pale eyes cold as winter stone. "But perhaps it's time fer a more... subtle approach."

"What did ye have in mind?"

Murray moved to a locked chest in the corner, withdrawing a small leather pouch that clinked softly with its contents. "A gift. Something special fer the newly wedded couple."

Bruce's eyebrows rose. "What kind of gift?"

"The kind that ensures their marriage is cut tragically short." Murray's smile was sharp as a blade. "I want ye tae commission something from our friends in the south. Something that looks innocent, festive even. Perfect fer a solstice celebration."

"And what should this gift accomplish?"

"It should make certain that the MacNeill bitch never lives to see another sunrise. And if her devoted husband gets caught in the same fate..." Murray shrugged. "Well, that would be a tragedy indeed."

Bruce shifted uncomfortably. "Me lord, if this fails⁠—"

"It willnae fail." Murray's voice carried absolute certainty. "Because if it daes, I'll have nay choice but tae take more extreme measures. And I assure ye, Bruce, extreme measures would be... unpleasant fer everyone involved."

The threat was clear. Bruce had seen what Murray did to those who disappointed him, had helped dispose of the evidence more than once.

"What kind of extreme measures?" Bruce asked, though he looked like he'd rather not know.

Murray returned to his maps, his finger tracing the borders between MacNab and MacDuff lands. "Open war. Every clan I have compromising information on called to arms. A Highland-wide conflict that would make the last rebellion look like a children's game."

"That would bring the king's attention⁠—"

"Aye, it would. And in the chaos of such a war, many inconvenient truths might be lost forever. Along with anyone who might speak them." Murray's pale eyes found Bruce's. "Including the MacNeill whore and anyone fool enough to protect her."

The strategist swallowed hard. He'd always known Murray was ruthless, but this... this was madness. The kind of scorched-earth thinking that destroyed everything in its path.