He wondered at the fate she’d Seen while stricken by the Vision.
He did not know what he should do next. His threat to harm Saerla if her sister did not surrender MacBeith’s lands to him was entirely hollow. He’d threatened Saerla’s life, and she’d threatened his. It meant nothing when they touched one another.
But what did that make of him? A man who backed down from his intentions. His sworn purpose.
Moira did not know he wouldn’t slit her sister’s throat—unless Farlan, traitor that he was, had given that as his opinion. Saerla’s letter had begged Moira to refrain from a rescue. Had, in essence, begged her to let Saerla die here.
Rory could quite see how Moira would be unable to do that. How her folk, including that monster of a war chief, Alasdair, could not allow it. They, even more than he, knew what Saerla was.
But neither could he back down in front of his own people. He could not surrender this fight. What kind of chief would that make him?
He wished suddenly he could speak with his da, if only for a short time. Camraith MacLeod had been a very different sort of chief than he. Strong he might be, but he could show love—to his people and particularly to the young son of his slain comrade, whom he’d taken in and raised as his own. Da had loved Farlan full well.
What would he say about Rory having cast him off?
Nay, perhaps Rory did not want to hear what his father might say.
For a good portion of Rory’s life, he had looked down on what he considered his da’s weakness. He knew full well that Da, with the stronger tribe, could have crushed MacBeith any time he chose over the years. He couldn’t understand quite why he had not followed through with the intentions of their ancestors who came to claim this glen so long ago.
Glen Bronach. The glen of sorrows.
As soon as Da died, before Rory had even resolved his own grief, he’d determined to accomplish what Da had not.
Was his grief resolved even now?
Nay.
What would Da have made of Saerla MacBeith? Ah, he would adore her.
He remembered Da throwing back his head and laughing right along when Leith would crack some joke. He remembered the fondness in Da’s eyes when he looked upon Farlan. He would doubtless consider Saerla MacBeith to be one of the most precious beings he’d ever beheld.
As did Rory.
But he’d set himself up as a strong chief. A man who did not bow or bend. He had more or less promised the people who followed him a victory. He could not back down.
For the sake of a woman.
Not that she would ever have him.
That thought followed so swiftly on the heels of the other that it near ran him over. Aye, she’dhadhim. But their physical union had been a thing apart. An agreed-upon setting aside of differences. Lust.
He’d wanted her beyond all reason. She’d wanted him. What followed had been as inevitable as his next breath.
He argued it with himself until dark. He went out and spoke with the guards, climbed up and stalked the battlements. There was no sign of movement from MacBeith.
Yet.
He was beginning to understand Moira MacBeith as he understood Farlan, who advised her. A woman of some deliberation, she would act with care. But shewouldact. And it would come before the ten days he had set for Saerla to live expired. For she could not be sure he would not harm her sister.
Even if Farlan told her so.
Before dark fell, he took himself to Leith’s quarters and pounded on the door. When Leith admitted him, he could see Rhian sitting on the side of the bed refastening her gown. Had the two of them been in each other’s arms all this while?
The thought made him surly, and he scowled into his cousin’s face. “I ha’ a question.”
“Aye?” Leith looked cautious. Rory wondered what had happened to the old sense of camaraderie between them. The ease and the laughter. Leith had been one of the people with whom Rory had been most comfortable.
What had become of his life?
