Mairead faltered then, just for a moment, the first crack in her composure. “James…” she began, her voice softening, pleading now.
But he cut her off with a sharp motion of his hand. “From this day forth, ye have nay place here,” he declared coldly. “I strip ye of any influence within this castle, within this clan.”
Her eyes widened, panic flashing across her face. “Ye cannae mean that,” she said, her voice breaking. “This is me home.”
“Nay,” James replied, “It was.”
“And more than that,” he continued, his gaze hard as stone, “I should throw ye into the dungeon for what ye have done.”
Mairead’s breath caught, fear now fully taking hold. “Please,” she said quickly, stepping toward him. “Daenae do that. Send me away instead. Send me back to me family.”
James studied her for a long moment, his silence heavy. “I will consider banishment,” he said at last, his voice measured. “But only if ye tell me where she is.”
Mairead hesitated, her lips pressing together as her eyes flickered with conflict. James took another step closer, his patience gone.
“Speak,” he demanded. “Or I will have ye dragged to the dungeon before the next bell tolls.”
She flinched, her resolve crumbling under the weight of his fury.
“Drummond,” she said finally, the word barely more than a whisper.
James went still.
Nay. Anyone but him.
“I helped deliver her to him,” Mairead added, her voice trembling now. “His men came in the night.”
For a moment, the world seemed to fall silent around him. James felt it all at once, the fear, the rage, the crushing weight of memory. Jenny’s face flashed in his mind, followed by Eloise’s, pale and still. His heart pounded painfully, his breath coming sharp and unsteady.
“Nay. How could ye be so cruel?” he muttered, more to himself than to her. He turned away abruptly, running a hand through his hair as fury surged through him like fire.
“I will nae lose her,” he said, his voice low and shaking with restrained violence. “Nae to him. Nae again.” He turned back to Mairead, his eyes blazing. “If any harm comes to her…” He did not finish the threat, but the promise in his gaze was unmistakable.
Mairead lowered her eyes, unable to meet it.
James strode from Mairead’s chamber with purpose carved into every line of his body, his anger held tight beneath iron control.A guard rounded the corridor corner just as he emerged, and James seized the man’s attention with a sharp look.
“Ye,” he commanded, his voice cutting. “Stand at that door.”
The guard straightened at once, eyes flicking nervously toward Mairead’s chamber.
“Aye, me Laird,” he replied.
James stepped closer, his tone lowering into something deadly serious. “She doesnae leave that room. Ye daenae take food or drink from her. Nae for any reason. If she tries to leave, ye stop her.”
The guard swallowed but nodded firmly. “Aye, me Laird. I will nae fail ye.” James held his gaze a moment longer, ensuring the command was understood, before turning away.
He moved down the corridor and stopped at a narrow window overlooking the courtyard below. Chaos had already begun to take hold, the alarm bells still ringing as men rushed to and fro, voices raised in urgency. Servants scattered, guards armed themselves, and the entire castle seemed to pulse with rising tension.
“Callum!” he roared, his voice carrying down into the courtyard like thunder. Heads turned below, and a moment later Callum stepped forward, shielding his eyes as he looked up.
“Here, me Laird,” Callum shouted.
“Fifty men,” James shouted, his tone leaving no room for delay. “Armed and ready to ride for battle, now!”
Callum did not hesitate. “Aye, me Laird!” he called back, already turning to bark orders of his own.
James did not linger. He turned sharply and made his way to his chamber, his strides swift and unrelenting. Inside, he moved with practiced efficiency, strapping his sword belt tight around his waist. The familiar weight of steel settled against his hip, grounding him even as fury burned beneath the surface. He reached for his dirk, sliding it into his boot with a firm motion. Grabbing his heavy cloak, he swung it over his shoulders, fastening it without pause. Every movement was sharp, deliberate, driven by the need to act.
