He roared the last word and snatched a bottle of expensiveaqua vitaefrom the table, throwing it violently across the room. Morag flinched away as the distilled alcohol hit the fire pit with a loud pop and a flare of flames that caused those nearby to rush backward to avoid getting burned. She was far from the fire, but she still felt the heat rise in the room.
The only person who did not move was the man sitting by Alistair's side while the father paced back and forth in fury. Ian Campbell perched at the edge of his seat, his eyes cold and alert, his body held with a predator's stillness as he took in the events.
As a child, when she had first met Ian, Morag had thought him quite handsome, retaining all the looks his father had lost and taking more from his mother. She'd assumed she'd marry him one day, enjoying his tall stature and dark blonde curls, enchanted by his hazel eyes. But his beauty was overwhelmed by his menace, and as they'd grown, Morag had avoided him as a deer avoided any sign of a wolf in the woods, knowing that he could easily make her his next meal.
Robert cleared his throat into the short silence that followed the small explosion. "Would that we could set them aflame aseasily, me Laird," he growled. "I'd watch every Murray torn apart in front of me and smile."
Morag wished she could vanish as all eyes, including Alistair's and Ian's, turned to the Caindachs. Nevertheless, she sat proud and tall, knowing she'd be punished harshly for any sign of disagreement with her father's words.
Alistair's lips uncurled in a malicious grin. "Nice tae see ye're finally loyal, Robert. Yer blood gave us nothin', but at least we have yer bloody conviction."
A few men chuckled, but Robert did not even react to the implicit mockery. Instead, he gave an earnest nod. "Bloody and well-earned. The only Murray who lies dead is Gregor, who at least saw sense. The animals saw nae reason nae tae slay their own kin. They need tae be put down."
"Gregor Murray was nothin' but a rabid hound. He'd served his purpose," Alistair snorted. "But nevertheless?—"
He cut off as the doors burst open and one of Alistair's men rushed in. Morag recognized him as one of the leaders of the guard, though she did not know his name. The guard was pale and wide-eyed, and he rushed to Alistair's side and whispered something in his ear.
Alistair stilled, so much that he was as frozen as his son, and Morag caught herself as she leaned forward, her stomach tightening with unease at what could possibly have happened.
"Ye'resure?" Alistair barked. The guard said something else, and Alistair clenched his fists. "And he came willingly? Alone?"
The guard nodded.
"Bring him.Now!" Alistair howled, his voice raised like a man unhinged.
Morag held her breath as the guard left again, then returned a moment later with three other uniformed guards. Between them, the four Campbell men escorted a tall man with hair the color of dark honey harvested at the beginning of winter. Hisresemblance to Ian was immediately clear, though the sharpness of his features was less prominent, and his eyes, though clearly the same hazel, did not hold the same coldness.
Morag could not help but stare at this young man, stricken by both his handsomeness and the eerie sense of familiarity she felt. She knew it must be because of his resemblance to the Campbell heir, but something else nagged at the back of her mind. The newcomer remained surrounded by the guards, so Morag could not see properly how he was dressed or make out any details beyond his face.
Alistair moved forward toward the man. Ian's eyes narrowed slightly, but it was his only movement. When the elder Campbell reached the guards, they parted to let him through, and the newcomer swept into a deep, formal bow.
"Lad," the Laird said in a deceptively soft tone. "Ye've come awfully far tae be slain."
"If slayin' me would aid yer cause, then do it," the man said softly. He straightened up, meeting Alistair's gaze steadily. "But I hope that isnae the route we take, me Laird. Father."
The room exploded in murmurs at the final word, but Alistair let out a wordless yell and silence fell again. The tightness in Morag's stomach grew almost painful and she clenched her fists, digging her nails into her hands as she stared at the scene in front of her, the strange recognition drumming so loudly at her head she could barely focus.
"I am Murdoch Campbell, the youngest son of Alistair and the brother of Ian! I was stolen away from me family as a bairn and torn from the bloodright that was meant for me!" the newcomer declared with a reverberating boom. "Nae more will I allow me life tae be led by inferiors. I am here tae find me family. Tae reclaim me name. Tae swear loyalty tae me father!" He bowed his head to Alistair again, then straightened once more."I'm here tae finally reclaim the blood that made me. Nae matter what."
At a gesture from Alistair, the guards moved away, leaving the man who claimed to be Murdoch Campbell alone with their laird. As they did, Morag saw the dirtied but still clear colors on his tartan and bit her lip hard to smother her gasp. She knew those colors—the colors of the Kincaids. And all of a sudden, she knew how she recognized this stranger.
He reminded her of Elsie Kincaid. Here he was, to upheave Morag's life just as Elsie had done. And there was nothing she could do about it. Still and stiff, it was all Morag could do to not dissolve into terror.
CHAPTER TWO
Chaos erupted in the hall as Murdoch had predicted it would as soon as he was finished speaking. His instincts urged him to look around and take in as many of the others present as he could, but instead, he kept his eyes trained on Alistair Campbell, knowing that it was his only chance now.
It was warm, even hot, in this smoky room, but he clung tight to the coldness of the outside in his heart to keep his mask intact. He felt surrounded on all sides, as if the crowd of people were closing in on him, pushing in closer to the flames. Some of those muttering were clearly speculating with fascination. He heard the namesFenellaandMurdochand evenIslawhispered around the room over and over again.
But then the shouting began. "Kincaid spy!" someone howled. "How can ye let yerself be fooled!"
"Kill him now!" another roared. "Fenella was a rat, and her bairns drowned with her!"
"Imposter! Manipulator!"
Murdoch took their words like blows, standing stock-still and as tall as he could, refusing to react until he got a signal from the Laird. But as the hubbub mounted enough that part of him feared it would erupt into violence, a sharpslamcut across theroom, echoing off the stone walls with the force of an exploding fireball. Silence fell so abruptly it almost seemed like a flame smothered by a blanket, and even Alistair paused for a moment.
"Enough!" a deep voice lashed out like a whip.
