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Gowan watched the guards approach, and he realized that this was not some kind of trick or a joke. Their hands gripped his arms. He could have fought them off, but a slaughter would not have helped his cause. No, there was something more going on here. He had no idea what Maeve was talking about, but he knew who must have sparked the idea in her mind. While he cried out her name to try and get her attention, she continued to hold her back to him, but his gaze was not on her. He looked directly at Harrison. There was a gleam in the man’s eye and a slight curl of the lips that told Gowan all he needed to know.

* * *

The dungeon was damp and dark. A rat scurried in the darkness, the scrape of its claws making sounds against the cold stone. There was an intermittent drip in the background, a sound that was enough to make a man go mad if he was subjected to it for any length of time.

“We should hae fought them,” Karl said. He was sitting hunched against the wall, his head bowed and his arms resting on his knees, while Gowan was pacing around, peering into the darkness to try and see any way out for them.

“It would hae only made us look more guilty.”

“Guilty of what?! We hae nae done anything!” Karl said.

“I know.”

“I thought she loved ye. She haes gone mad. This was a mistake from the beginning. I dinnae think ye should hae got married.”

“It’s nae her fault.”

“Nae her fault? She’s the one who got her guards tae throw us in here! I thought she would hae given ye more credit. She didnae even give ye a chance tae explain.”

“Dinnae speak unkindly about her. She is still my wife.”

“And does every wife toss their husband intae a dungeon?”

Gowan suppressed the anger he felt brewing in his breast. He kept telling himself that it wasn’t her fault. “It’s her uncle. He’s behind this, I’m sure of it. He’s trying tae get me out of the picture sae he can hae the throne for himself.”

“It seems as though his plan is working.”

“I cannae let it. Maeve is in danger. We hae tae get out of here!” Gowan said desperately.

Karl tilted his head up and exhaled deeply, blowing out both his cheeks. It was certainly a task easier said than done, but Gowan knew that every moment he spent in there was another moment where Maeve’s life would be threatened.

Come on, Maeve, he thought. See sense. See the man yer uncle truly is.

15

Harrison was sitting in his own chamber, sipping some wine. It was almost too easy, he thought to himself. His niece had been turned against her husband, and all it had taken was some more coin to buy the lies of a scullery maid! It was almost criminal how simple it had been, and it just went to show that their marriage was not built on anything secure if they lost trust in each other so easily. It was clear that this was the best course of action. If their marriage was so fraught with danger, then it was better it ended sooner rather than later. A brute like Gowan McDouglas could never make a good husband anyway. His life was one of violence, and it would only have been a matter of time before he was out riding again, getting himself into some kind of trouble, and he would have ended up wounded and dying before his time, plunging Maeve into grief again. As a good uncle, Harrison would never want this for his niece, so while this hurt now, it was for the best in the long run.

And after this, he was certain that Maeve would want nothing more to do with being the Lady of the clan. Yes, it had been her father’s last request, but how could one young heart cope with so much grief? She certainly wouldn’t be interested in marrying again after being so betrayed, and with no hope of having an heir, the only sensible thing would be for Harrison to take the throne. Of course, there was the slim possibility that she was with child already. It was something that Harrison would have to keep an eye on, for such a thing could scupper his plans. But even so, there were always ways to get around such things, and if Maeve needed to be put out of her misery at some point, that was a viable option as well. It wasn’t fair that she should live with such suffering, really. If only she knew all that he was doing for her well-being. But that’s what heroes did—the thankless tasks, the tasks that needed doing without reward or glory.

And then the clan would be strong again. With him, he would never allow this crime to pass and would sue for a suitable reparation from the McDouglas clan. After this, he was certain that he could make inroads with the other clans in the territory. He would certainly do a better job of it than Maeve did, and he wouldn’t be getting distracted during the meetings with nonsensical thoughts of romance. It had always been a fool’s ploy to have a young woman as Laird. There was still so much she had to learn from life, and really, it had been her father’s fault for setting her up to fail. There had been far too much pressure placed upon her young shoulders, and it was time for Harrison to take that burden away.

He let the thick, fruity liquid linger against his tongue before he swallowed, finding the wine sweet and relaxing. He closed his eyes and leaned back, sighing happily after a job well done. He barely spared a thought for the first maid who had died, not even considering that her “sacrifice” was anything to be mourned. He laced his fingers over his chest as he thought about all he could do. The only other trouble might come from Callum, who had always had ideas above his station, but in time he could be gotten rid of as well. Harrison wouldn’t even have to take the risk of killing him. He could simply send him on his way.

His smile widened at this. Oh, what a joy it would be to watch Callum gather up his meager possessions and be bundled onto a wagon that was going to ride far away from here. The arrogant fool probably thought he had a job for life here. Well, he would get a shock.

Harrison chuckled to himself loudly, and it was so laughable, in fact, that he ended up having to wipe a tear from his eye.

* * *

In a time of strife such as this, Harrison took it upon himself to be seen around the keep, to give a strong presence and remind everyone that a strong leader was still in place. It would be a time of uncertainty for the clan, and they would need his calming presence. He could see the unease in the faces of the servants that were dotted around the keep, but he made sure to nod at them and reassure them that everything was under control. He toured the castle, turning his nose up at some of the paintings and ornaments his dearly departed sister and brother-in-law had chosen to decorate the place with and made mental notes on what he would change when he would finally take full control. He was of the opinion that there needed to be more majesty in the keep and far more imposing paintings. He wanted some portraits of him hung around as well, to properly show the influence he had on the clan and to remind everyone that he, and only he, was in charge.

It had been a long wait for him to take control. His mind turned back to his youth when his sister was being given all the lessons she needed to be Laird, and when her eventual marriage was confirmed, it had been a knife in his heart. He had been offered marriages himself, but the thought of leaving this place was anathema to him. This was his home. His blood ran through the valleys and the rivers and even the bricks of the keep. Taking him away from this would have been tantamount to death. It had been a cruel trick of fate for him to have been born after his sister, as he would have made a far better Laird. It was a shame his parents were so progressive as well (he almost spat as he thought the word) because he had heard of other families where the firstborn son always became Laird, no matter how many daughters preceded him. Well, it had fallen to him to turn fate in his favor, and he was so close to reaching his destiny now. He had no doubt that all of his ancestors would have been proud of him for his ingenuity and his determination, for his perseverance in the face of daunting odds.

Of course, he would have to think about marriage too. An heir would solidify his claim on the throne and provide assurance that Maeve would never wrest it back from him if he decided to spare her life. He would have to choose wisely, though. The last thing he wanted was a wife like Maeve, a woman who would always say what was on her mind. No, he wanted someone far gentler, who would do as she was told and obey the wishes of her husband. That was the duty of a wife anyway.

His stroll took him up the stairs to his niece’s chamber. He stood outside and pressed his ear to the door, listening to the sweet sound of her sobs. The smile broadened on his face. While he did not enjoy hearing her pain like this, it was better that she felt it now rather than later, for it had been inevitable that this was going to happen. Harrison had merely quickened these forces. However, he did not go in to see her on this occasion. It was better that she be alone with her sorrow and let her thoughts twist inside her, dragging her mind down to the dark depths of despair. He could well imagine the horror that was plaguing her as she sat in her chamber alone, the echoing misery forming a cacophony in her mind.

He stepped away, whistling to himself as he returned to his chamber. His hands were clasped behind his back, and his head was held high. With Gowan in the dungeon and Maeve in a prison of her own, making it was only a matter of time before the throne was his. He was the only viable candidate, after all, and it was only fitting that fate should be corrected when an error had been made at his birth. At least he still had plenty of time to enjoy the fruits of his labor as well. Everyone would benefit from his actions; at least, that was what he told himself.