Page 97 of The Laird’s Sinful Obsession

Captain Ross stepped inside—a solid, reliable man in his forties with the scarred hands of someone who'd spent decades holding a sword. He bowed briefly.

"Ye sent fer me, me laird?"

"Aye." Torquil wasted no time. "I want ye tae rally the men. I want two hundred fully armed and provisioned within the fortnight. We'll need supplies fer a sustained campaign—weapons, food, medical provisions. Begin scouting the waters around Barra fer weak points in their coastal defenses.

Also, send word tae our allies. Anyone who owes us favor or has grievance with MacNeil. I want tae ken who we can count on when the time comes.

Dae this quietly. Nay public announcements. Nay obvious preparations that might draw attention. But be ready. When I give the order, I want us able tae move immediately."

Ross remained neutral while listening to his orders. When he finished, he looked up.

"Two hundred men, fully equipped? Two weeks is tight, me laird. We'd need tae call in the outer holdings, which means⁠—"

"I dinnae care what it means. Can it be done?"

"Aye." Ross nodded slowly. "It can be done. Though it'll cost us, supplies aren't cheap and pullin' that many men from their lands will impact the harvest."

"The harvest is irrelevant if we cannae secure what's rightfully ours." Torquil stood, moving to the map mounted on his wall. "MacNeil thinks he's won because he stopped one attempt. He thinks I'll back down now, accept defeat like some whipped dog."

"And ye willnae?"

"I never back down, Captain. Surely ye ken that by now." Torquil's finger traced the outline of Barra on the map. "The girl should have been mine from the start. I declared me interest openly. I made me intentions clear. And that bastard stepped in as if he had any right."

"He claims he's protectin' her, me laird. From the attempted kidnappin’ at Dunstaffnage."

"Protectin'." Torquil's lip curled. "Is that what they're callin' it? Because from where I'm standin', it looks more like theft. He saw somethin' he wanted and took it, Covenant be damned."

Ross said nothing, which was probably wise.

Torquil studied the map, his mind working through possibilities.

A direct assault on Barra would be difficult—the island's natural defenses were formidable, and MacNeil's reputation as a strategist was well-earned. But there were other approaches. Other pressures that could be brought to bear.

"What about the supply lines?" he asked. "How daes MacNeil provision his island?"

"Mainland trade, mostly. Ships comin' from Oban and the surrounding ports."

"And if those ships... encountered difficulties?"

Ross's eyes narrowed. "Ye're talkin' about a blockade."

"I'm talkin' about makin' life uncomfortable fer anyone who supports MacNeil. Merchants lose ships tae storms all the time, Captain. Tragic, really. But these things happen."

"That would be an act of war, me laird."

"Only if we're caught." Torquil turned from the map. "And even then, only if MacNeil can prove it. Which he cannae, if we're careful."

"It's a risk."

"Everythin' worth havin' is a risk." Torquil moved back to his desk, pulling out a third sheet of parchment. "Here's what we're goin' tae dae. Ye rally the men as I instructed—that's our primary force, held in reserve fer when we need it. Meanwhile, we apply pressure through other means."

He began writing again, his hand moving quickly across the page.

"Merchants who trade with Barra will receive... warnings. Friendly suggestions that their business might be better conducted elsewhere. Ships that ignore those warnings might encounter unfortunate accidents. Nothing obviously connected tae us, ye understand."

"Aye, me laird."

"At the same time, we spread word about MacNeil's... unusual interest in his guest. The way he's keepin' her isolated on his island. How he refuses tae let her go despite her rightful betrothal tae another." Torquil's mouth curved without humor. "Gossip spreads faster than any army, Captain. And once people start questionin' MacNeil's motives, once they start wonderin' if maybe the great laird isn't quite as honorable as he pretends⁠—"