“The first arrangement proposed,” he said slowly, “was between Drummond and MacGregor.”
Margaret hesitated. “I heard me faither speak of it once. But it was never decided.”
“MacGregor didnae see it that way.”
Margaret looked back up.
“The Crown changed its mind,” Domhnall continued. “They nay longer trusted MacGregor after the attack on me household.”
“The Masquerade. Me faither and MacGregor planned tae make the alliance go ahead anyway. Secretly.” Margaret added, the pieces fully falling into place.
“Aye.”
“And Kenneth…”
Domhnall’s voice hardened. “In his eyes, the Crown took what was already promised tae him and handed it tae his greatest enemy.”
The truth settled heavily in the air.
“He lost his faither tae a Campbell blade,” Domhnall continued quietly. “He answered by killing me wife.”
His gaze held hers.
“And now the woman he believed he would marry sleeps in me bed.”
Margaret did not look away. “He will try again.”
“Let him,” Domhnall replied without a shadow of a doubt.
He watched her for a long moment, with the last of the night’s fear still echoing in his chest. Kenneth MacGregor might come for her again, but next time he would find Domhnall waiting.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Domnhnall was standing beside the narrow window of their chamber, with one hand resting against the stone frame. The loch below lay quiet beneath the mist, its dark surface barely stirring in the early light. From this height the world looked deceptively calm, as though the castle had not nearly burned the night before.
Domhnall knew better.
The scent of smoke still lingered faintly in the corridors. Guards had walked the walls through the night, while patrols searched the woods for any MacGregor stragglers who might have lingered after the retreat.
Kenneth MacGregor had not simply tested the gates. He had tested Domhnall. And he had come far too close to succeeding.
Behind him Margaret shifted beneath the blankets. He turned. She was sitting up now, hair loose around her shoulders,watching him with the quiet attentiveness he had come to recognize.
“Always the laird,” she smiled. That was a smile he wanted to keep only to himself.
“Always,” he smiled back.
She seemed to want to say something, but the sound of footsteps approached the chamber door and she hastily looked up. A knock followed.
“Me laird?” It was Cameron’s voice.
Domhnall crossed the room and opened the door. Cameron was standing outside in full dress leathers. There were shadows beneath his eyes that suggested he had not slept much more than Domhnall had.
“The captains are assembling in the Great Hall,” Cameron informed him quietly. “We need tae speak before the men begin arguing among themselves.”
Domhnall nodded once. “I’ll be there.”
Cameron bowed just once, and disappeared down the corridor. The chamber fell quiet again. Margaret reached for her gown.
