Her stomach clenched as Irvin’s plan for her came to mind. “Nay. He thinks Ross will have drunk himself to death within the year. And he’s right.”
“Who then? Certainly not me, or he wouldnae have sent me that letter.”
She gasped and turned to him. “You received his letter? And my note too?”
“Aye.”
“And you came anyway? I thought my note would dissuade you.”
“I knew you’d sent the second missive…and meant it. ’Twas troubling. But Irvin’s note troubled me more for a different reason. If naught else, I had to make sure you were safe. Obviously, you weren’t.”
“I would have been if those blasted wolves hadn’t come after me.”
Both men scoffed at her claim.
“And if you’d come up against some brigands?” Gavin asked.
“Or worse?” Callum added.
“You seem to forget I’m not defenseless. I escaped a wolf pack. I could take out some unsuspecting men.”
They fell silent, and Maggie thought the discussion was over, until Callum said, “You’re not a murderer, Maggie, or you would have taken Irvin’s life to spare your own. You’re capable of killing, but only as a last resort. And by then, it might be too late.”
They spent much of the ride to her home discussing Irvin’s plans, the layout of the castle—including the crawl space under the laird’s solar and any other secret passages of which she was aware—the guards’ rotations and any weaknesses in the castle’s defenses. They also discussed possible escape routes once they were out of the castle.
She added what she could, but mostly, she just listened to Callum and Gavin as they talked through different options and scenarios, more in awe of Callum’s quick mind than ever.
When her home came into view, the castle built within the last hundred years and looking so bonny with the afternoon sun warming the stone, she felt both a lift in her spirits and a drop in her stomach. Her jaw set in anger that Irvin had made her feel that way. He’d taken away the home she loved.
When they passed under the portcullis, it closed and locked behind them like the clanging of a cell door. She prayed they wouldn’t all end up in the dungeon.
They crossed the bailey, and more than half their guard peeled off toward the barracks. She looked up and saw the door at the top of the stairs that led to the great hall, open.
Irvin ran out, wearing a crumpled plaid, his hair unwashed and sticking up in places, and a few days growth on his chin. Maggie let out a surprised gasp. He’d always been as neat and precise as his tiny handwriting.
He barreled halfway down the steps, his loathing-filled eyes on her, looking almost crazed—before he caught sight of Callum and Gavin. Irvin came to an abrupt halt.
It was almost fascinating to watch as his eyes widened, his mouth twisted—before he gained control and pulled himself together. Drawing in all his pincers and poison like a bug, so he no longer looked dangerous.
“Therein lies cunning and madness,” Callum said to her, staring at Irvin, who had folded his hands benignly at his waist and appeared perfectly contained. “We doona have four days. We’ll be lucky to get four hours.”
“Aye,” Maggie said, sliding off her horse. “Let’s make the most of it.”
She handed the reins to a groom and marched, chin high, shoulders back, up the stairs toward Irvin, knowing Callum, Gavin, and the rest of their men would follow.
Irvin stood unmoving in the middle of the step, obviously expecting her to stop, but Maggie glared at him and kept going, until he finally jumped against the railing, sputtering in protest.
She waved him off and said loudly, “We’re going to see my brother, Laird MacDonnell.”
* * *
Callum’s eyes darted around the great hall, knowing surprise was on their side but it wouldn’t last. They moved swiftly in a tight group toward the stairs leading to the upper chambers and the laird’s solar. Callum and Gavin stayed close to Maggie without taking the lead. Drustan brought up the rear.
Irvin would kill every single one of them, despite their alliances. And from the look of hatred on his face as he’d stared at Maggie in the bailey, he would kill her too. He’d have done it already, Callum was sure, if he didn’t need to marry her to confirm his claim on the lairdship.
He still hadn’t figured out what Irvin would hold over her head to make that happen—unless Maggie wasn’t telling him everything. But he was fair certain that if she did have a lover or a friend she couldn’t live without, she would have taken them with her when she ran away the first time.
He considered that perhaps Irvin had John locked away somewhere. If that were the case, though, she wouldn’t have been running all the way across the Highlands to find him. Not alone, subject to abuse at the hands of robbers, the elements, and—as she’d already encountered—wild animals.
She’d been clear that she wouldn’t marry him, despite the deception he’d begun with Alpin. If he couldn’t provide a secure, happy place for her to live, she would run at the first opportunity.
His chest tightened at the thought, and he pushed it to the back of his mind.
Now was not the time to wallow.
In order to outsmart Irvin, he had to throw out his other plans and start afresh, come up with a new strategy that didn’t rely on Gregor and the rest of the lads. The goal was to keep everyone safe, but if the angels smiled on him, maybe he could reclaim Maggie’s castle at the same time.
He still hadn’t examined the documents she’d given him. He’d had her recount what she could remember, but he didn’t want Irvin tipped off that he had a document of interest on him. He’d hidden it inside a secret pocket in his plaid, but if they searched him for it, they would find it.
He needed to get that information to Gregor.
Of course, he’d thought about who the “friend inside” his clan might be, and whether he or she had had anything to do with his father’s murder. It was the first clue he’d had in a long time. When all this was over, he would search through Irvin’s parchments and talk to his accomplices—starting with Blàr. According to Maggie, he was Irvin’s most trusted confidante.
“Do we have a new plan yet?” Gavin asked softly as they entered a passageway that led to the spiral staircase. “Irvin will kill us at the first opportunity.”
“Aye.” Callum tapped his fingers against his thumb as his mind whirled. “We need to put him at ease, give him some breathing room. And also let him think we’ll be walking into his trap, while we lay one of our own…and then maybe, just maybe, we can recapture the castle for Maggie.”
Gavin let out a huff that Callum took for a silent, disbelieving laugh. “That doesn’t sound difficult at all,” he said. “Any idea how to accomplish it?”
“I’m working on it.” They reached the stairs just after Maggie, who’d lifted her skirts to sprint ahead. Callum hurried after her. “First, we need to talk to Ross, but I’m sure he’s as badly gone as Maggie says. And we’ll need to lock Irvin out for that, which will send him into a rage.”
“He’ll try to kill us as soon as we come out.”
“Not if we give him good news first. He’ll be worried about Maggie marrying me, but we’ll say Ross has delayed the ceremony. That’ll give Irvin hope and make him feel smarter than us—he’ll think we haven’t discovered his deception.”
They reached the upper passageway and were almost at the solar door when Gavin whispered, “Whate’er you do, doona tell Maggie the plan. Her temper’s too hot, and she’s too easy to read. She’ll give us away.”
Callum’s heart sank. He suspected Gavin was right, but Maggie would be furious if she knew they’d withheld information from her. He rubbed his hand across his jaw. He had to weigh their lives against her feeling betrayed—again.
Unfortunately, it was no contest. All of their lives, including Maggie’s
, depended on it.
“Aye. But I’m going to tell her it was your idea.”
“I doona mind taking the blame,” Gavin said, clapping him on the shoulder. “What are brothers for?”
When Maggie knocked and opened the solar door, Irvin pushed his way up from the back of the crowd. The men had formed a barrier in the hallway against the approaching MacDonnells, led by Alpin, and Drustan caught Callum’s eye before letting Irvin through.
Irvin reached them, his demeanor frantic. “The laird is indisposed. You canna speak to him.”
Callum stayed quiet. He wanted Maggie to continue leading on this, let Irvin’s men—who used to be Ross’s men—see her in charge.
Maggie frowned at Irvin. “I can speak to my brother and laird any time I want, Cousin. And I intend to speak to him with my betrothed and his men—alone.”
“He isna well,” Irvin yelled, his face turning red with anger.
“Aye, perhaps seeing Callum and Gavin will rouse his spirits. ’Tis with great mirth I remember him pulling both lairds over in a tug-of-war during the summer festival. None could best him.”
Gavin nodded. “Not even Kerr, and he’s as big as a bloody ox.”
Maggie smiled proudly. “Ross also won the caber toss three years in a row.”
Callum saw some of the MacDonnell soldiers grin.
“Well, he’s not that man anymore,” Irvin said. “Your brother needs quiet, Maggie MacDonnell, and I forbid you from disturbing him.”
Maggie grasped one of her daggers. Callum stepped forward to stop her using it, but she didn’t pull out her blade. Instead, she straightened her spine and looked down her nose at her slightly shorter cousin. “’Tis not for you to say, Irvin Sinclair. We stand within MacDonnell castle, surrounded by MacDonnell land, which was claimed hundreds of years ago by the MacDonnell clan—not the Sinclairs.”
Some of the men grunted in agreement, but Callum also heard at least one blade being drawn. They needed to get inside the solar before fighting broke out.
He stepped forward and grasped Irvin by the arms and moved him to the side. “Excuse us, but we doona want to keep Laird MacDonnell waiting.”
They slipped inside quickly, all eleven of them. Drustan, who’d entered last, shut the solid wood door and slid the bar across to keep them out.
Shouts erupted in the hallway before slowly fading away.
Drustan crouched down and stared through the keyhole. “They’re leaving, but not for long, I’d wager.” He rose, his eyes sliding past Callum, before he froze.
Callum turned to see what Drustan had seen. Maggie stood sideways to him behind the desk, her hair tucked under her plaid, her hand on her brother’s shoulder. Ross’s face was bloated and his skin sallow, his eyes bleary from drink. The once muscular body that had bested everyone in the tug-of-war had wasted away, other than a round, protruding belly. He slumped in his chair, an open jug of whisky in front of him, and stared in confusion at the men who’d entered his solar.
Aye, it was a disturbing sight, and Callum felt a profound sadness. He may not be able to save Ross, but he could damn well save Maggie.
He dragged two chairs over to the desk. Ross watched him with a bewildered expression on his face before reaching a shaking hand toward the whisky. Callum waylaid him, gently pulling his arm away before sitting down. Maggie perched in a chair on the other side.
“Ross. Do you recognize me?” he asked.
Ross lifted bleak, tortured eyes to his. “Aye. Have you married my sister, then? ’Tis good you’ve come for her. She’ll need taking care of. I’m done with this life. I will go see Eleanor and our bairn soon. I hear her calling to me sometimes.”
Maggie pressed her fist to her mouth.
“I’ll take care of her, Ross. You doona have to worry about that. And I’ll find John for you. Bring him home.”
“John loved Eleanor too. He willna want to return.”
“I’ll find him anyway.”
Again, Ross reached for his drink, and Callum stopped him. “Ross, we have to talk about Irvin. Eleanor’s brother.”
Ross lifted a hand and rubbed his eyes. “Aye, Maggie told me. He’s…done something.”
“He’s stealing the MacDonnell land and castle. He plans to kill John and marry Maggie—except Maggie willna have him. So he plans to force her. Do you understand what that means, Ross?”
A spark flamed in Ross’s eyes, and he pushed himself upright. He withdrew his hand from the whisky. His gaze quickly returned to the jug, however, and Callum feared Ross’s resurgence was too late.
“He canna have Maggie. Or my home.” He licked his lips, and his hand trembled with the effort to not reach for his drink. “Find John. He ne’er liked Irvin. He’ll force him out.”
“You force him out,” Maggie said through gritted teeth. “Hold on and fight him, Ross. Fight for me, and for John. Fight for Mother and Da’s home, for our clan.”
But his shoulders slumped, and the light died from his eyes. “I canna. I’m done, Maggie. I’m sorry. I doona have your strength.”
“You’re as strong as a bloody bear!”
“Not that kind of strength.” He lifted his hand and tapped Maggie’s chest. “The strength inside. It was always Eleanor for me. When I lost her, I lost everything. I’m sorry, love. Let me go. I doona want to stay.”
“Irvin’s right outside—with your men—ready to cut down everyone and take me.”
Ross shifted his gaze to Callum’s. “You canna let that happen.”
“I won’t. I’ll be dead before he hurts her, I promise you that,” Callum said.
Ross nodded and reached for his jug, then poured some whisky into an empty cup. Maggie looked stricken, and Callum wanted to go to her, hold her, but he knew she wouldn’t welcome his comfort. She’d see it as pity and mistakenly believe he thought her weak.
She couldn’t be more wrong.
Gavin stepped forward and Ross looked at him, confused.
Maggie put an arm around her brother’s shoulders and leaned in. “It’s Gavin MacKinnon, Ross. He’s here to help us. He lost his wife and bairn too—during the pestilence that hit the summer festival two years ago.”
Gavin’s eyes were filled with understanding and pity. He’d spent many nights lost in drink when Ewan had first disappeared.
“Good day to you, Ross,” he said. “’Tis a long time since we wrestled together as lads. Although I think I did all the wrestling and you just held me down.”
Ross nodded, and a glimmer of light filled his eyes. “That I did. I barely recognized you, Gavin. You no longer look like a lass.”
Gavin rubbed his spiky hair and smiled. “Even without my long locks, I’m still as lovely as a girl, aye?”
“I’m sure some men think so,” Ross said, and Gavin laughed.
Reaching across the desk, Gavin placed a commiserating hand on Ross’s head. Ross closed his eyes and leaned into his touch. Callum could almost see the pain radiating from both men, and his heart hurt for them.
“I am sorry to see you so distraught, old friend. I know that state well. But right now, we need to attend to the living.” Gavin’s voice broke when he said “living,” and he cleared his throat before he continued. “Can you still write, Ross?”
Ross looked down at the pile of parchments in front of him and picked up a quill. His hand shook. “Aye, if I press hard enough.”
Callum placed a piece of parchment in front of him and helped Ross dip his quill in the ink. “Will you help Maggie by writing a letter? I think you should state that upon your death, the lairdship passes to John. And that if John dies or canna be found within two years, it passes to a MacDonnell of age who has the majority vote from your clan. That’ll eliminate Irvin altogether and protect Maggie.” He looked at Maggie. “Is that agreeable to you? Or do you want your sons to be next in line?”
> “Nay. I want naught to do with the lairdship. But maybe give me some land in case John is killed.” She stroked her knuckles across Ross’s cheek. “How about Nan’s old farm? ’Twas our favorite place when we were small.”
“Aye, lass. ’Tis yours. Da meant for you to have it anyway. In this, I willna fail you.”
Maggie pressed her forehead to Ross’s, then she whispered something in his ear before wrapping her arms around his neck. When she let go, she walked briskly to the window and looked out. Callum suspected her face would be wet with tears.
Ross concentrated on writing the decree that would in effect become his last will and testament. Callum saw that he included all the personal wealth of their family in his bequest to John and Maggie. And if John was already dead or died without issue, his wealth passed on to Maggie in turn.
When Ross finished, Callum, Gavin, Maggie, and Father Lundie all witnessed his signature.
“One more,” Callum said as Ross reached for his drink. “Irvin terminated the marriage contract between myself and Maggie—and he did it in your name. To be safe, I’d like you to reinstate the contract.”
He could see Ross was fading and they had little time—especially after he took a big swig of whisky. The wretch couldn’t hold it together much longer, but he managed to write another letter, stating he wanted Callum to marry Maggie, as their fathers had wished for them so many years ago.
Father Lundie and Gavin witnessed the signature this time, and then the priest took Maggie’s chair and sat down beside Ross to give as much solace and guidance to the grief-stricken man as he could.
“We’ll have to leave without Maggie,” Gavin whispered in Callum’s ear, “and by the grim look on your face, you already know that.”
Callum squeezed the bridge of his nose and nodded. “I fear she’ll ne’er forgive me.” But he couldn’t see any other way.
Maggie straightened from the window and called out to him over her shoulder, “Callum, they’re coming!”
Highland Betrayal Page 5
