Page 98 of The Laird’s Sinful Obsession

"Public opinion turns against him."

"Exactly." Torquil finished writing and looked up. "By the time I actually move against him, if it comes tae that, he'll be isolated. Nay allies. Nay support. Just him and his island and a woman he has nay legal right tae keep."

Ross studied the map thoughtfully. "And if the king sides with him? If he rejects yer claim?"

"Then we adjust." Torquil's expression hardened. "But I dinnae think he will. James is practical above all else. He wants stability in the Highlands, wants the clans cooperatin' rather than feudin'. When I present this as a matter of honor, of a betrothal contract being violated, he'll have tae at least investigate."

"And when MacNeil claims there was nay betrothal?"

"It becomes he-said-she-said. Me word against his." Torquil smiled coldly. "And I've been very careful tae establish me interest publicly. Everyone at that ball saw me dancin' with Alba. Saw me tryin' tae court her properly. MacNeil, meanwhile, has been hidin' her away like stolen goods."

Ross nodded slowly. "It's clever, me laird. Risky, but clever."

"It's necessary." Torquil stood, rolling up the map and setting it aside. "I want ye tae begin immediately. Quietly rally the men. Start applyin' pressure tae the merchants. And spread the word about MacNeil's... questionable behavior with his guest."

"It'll take time, me lord."

"Then ye'd better start now." Torquil moved to the window again, looking out toward the west where Barra lay beyond the horizon. "That bastard thinks he's won. Thinks he can keep what's mine simply because he moved faster."

"And he's wrong?"

"He's about tae learn exactly how wrong." Torquil's hands curled into fists on the windowsill. "Alba MacKinnon will be mine, Captain. One way or another. Whether MacNeil surrenders her willingly or I have tae pry her from his dead fingers—she will be mine."

Ross bowed. "I'll begin the preparations, me laird."

"Good. And Ross?"

"Aye, me laird?"

"Fail me in this, and ye'll wish ye'd never been born. Am I clear?"

The captain's face went pale. "Crystal clear, me laird."

"Excellent. Then get out."

Ross left quickly, closing the door behind him.

Alone again, Torquil returned to his desk and spread out the two letters—the one tae the king, and the one he'd begun drafting to potential allies among the other clans.

Everything was falling into place.

The kidnapping had failed, yes. But failure was only permanent if you accepted it. And Torquil MacLean had never accepted failure in his life.

He would have Alba MacKinnon.

He would humiliate Lachlann MacNeil.

And he would show everyone in the Highlands that Torquil MacLean was not a man to be trifled with.

Whatever it took.

Whatever it cost.

He picked up his quill and continued writing, the scratch of pen on parchment filling the silent hall as he planned his war.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Alba stretched on her toes, her fingers just brushing the spine of the scroll she needed. Almost there. Just a few more inches⁠—