Evan nodded, struggling to keep his face expressionless. He pushed off the wall and took a slow step forward. “When can I meet him?”
Key’s eyes glinted. “Not so fast.” He reached inside his coat and withdrew a folded parchment. “Ye dinna simply walk back into his confidence because ye choose to. Trust, as ye well know, has to be earned.”
The two men behind Key shifted slightly, spreading out—not threatening, not overtly—but positioning themselves.
Evan shrugged nonchalantly. “I would expect nothing less.”
Key stepped forward and held out the parchment. “Orders.”
Evan unfolded it slowly and read. The words were succinct.Destabilize surrounding estates. Create unrest. Clear our supply lines.
Evan understood MacInnes’ logic. If unrest broke out in the area, then wagons would pass with less scrutiny. If grain went missing, if fences were cut, if disputes erupted between neighboring tenants, then guards would be distracted.
And chaos was cover.
His gaze flicked back to Key. “He wants noise.”
Key smiled thinly. “He wants opportunity.”
Evan forced himself to smile coldly even though inside his guts were churning. “Then that’s what I’ll give him.”
“Not alone ye willnae.”
“What?”
Key grinned. “We’ll be staying. MacInnes has ordered us to help ye.”
Help? They all knew what that really meant. MacInnes didn’t trust him and these men were to spy on him. Keep him in line.
Evan let a slow, humorless smile curve his mouth. “How delightful.”
He stepped past them and crossed to a rickety table where a bottle sat. He poured what remained into three mismatchedcups, then hesitated a fraction before pouring a fourth for himself. The liquid was thin and sharp—inferior whisky, but drinkable.
He handed one to Key and then each of the others.
“If ye stay here, ye will keep out of sight,” he said. “Ye will keep away from the villagers. The last thing we need is for them to become suspicious, and Hamish MacLaren already knows who ye are.”
“That willnae be a problem if we silence the bastard,” one of the other men growled. “I owe him for the cracked rib he gave me.”
“Are ye deaf?” Evan snapped. “Ye will keep away from Hamish. Ye will keep away from the village. We canna carry out MacInnes’ orders with a bunch of angry villagers breathing down our necks.”
The man scowled. “So I’m just supposed to let him get away with—”
“He’s right,” Fergus Key cut in. “MacInnes wants this quick and clean. No mess. No complications. Clear?” He glared at the other two men until both nodded sullenly. Then Fergus raised his cup. “A toast?”
Evan lifted his cup. “To chaos.”
The whisky burned down his throat, settling heavy in his stomach and doing nothing to ease his tension. The parchment felt heavy in his hand. Already his mind was churning over what he had been ordered to do.
There were holdings near the river. A grain store west of the ridge that supplied three villages. A minor laird whose allegiance had been uncertain of late. They would be small moves. Targeted. Nothing so large as to draw the crown’s immediate attention. Just enough to unsettle—and perhaps win Seoras MacInnes’ trust. It galled him how easily such plans came to him.
It was not brute force that caused unrest, Evan knew. It was doubt. Suspicion. They destroyed foundations faster than fire.
Key set his empty cup down with a sharp click and eyed the stark, bare rooms leading off the hall. “I must say, I was hoping for a little more comfort. Ye are an earl’s brother after all.”
“My apologies,” Evan replied. “Had I known ye were coming I would have had feather beds made up.”
Key laughed at Evan’s sarcasm and the three of them began unrolling rough blankets from their packs and claiming corners. Evan turned back toward the staircase.
“Rest,” Key called after him. “Believe me, ye are going to need it.”
Evan returned to his chamber, closing the door and leaning back against it, briefly shutting his eyes.
Destabilize surrounding estates. Clear our supply routes.
Unbidden, Ruby’s face rose in his thoughts. What was she doing right now? Was she thinking about him?
He lay back down on the hard floor, folding one arm beneath his head, and stared up at the ceiling. So MacInnes wanted chaos, did he? Then he would give it to him. It was time to begin his performance of a lifetime.
