Page 53 of Promised to the Forbidden Laird

“Donaldina leaves the walls. She visits the cottages, the chapel and those cursed hives near the cliff. MacIver cannae keep her locked within Dun Ard without proving every charge I made against him.”

Alasdair studied the drawing. “Ye mean tae seize her upon the road.”

“Quietly.”

“She called for help the last time.”

“There will be nae crowd tae hear her.”

The fire shifted, sending sparks upward through the broken roof.

Tormod’s face had grown wary. “What of her escort?”

Cormac looked at him. The answer required no words. Tormod glanced away first. Alasdair did not.

“Dead guards draw attention,” he concluded.

“Living witnesses draw soldiers.”

“And MacIver?”

“He must be separated from her, drawn toward some threat elsewhere, something serious enough that he rides with his strongest men.”

“A raid?” Tormod asked.

“Perhaps. A fire. Missing cattle. An attack upon one of the northern posts.”

Cormac had not decided on the lure yet, he only knew that Roy’s strongest skill could be used against him. MacIver confronted danger head-on, positioning himself between the threat and what he aimed to defend. By creating two points of danger, even Roy MacIver would have to make a difficult choice.

“When Donaldina is taken,” Alasdair inquired further, “what then?”

Cormac looked toward the dark opening where a doorway once stood.

“Without her, MacIver has nae claim tae Dun Ard.”

“The decree still exists.”

“A decree joining a laird tae a missing woman is only parchment.”

“And if she refuses tae support ye?”

The question stirred his anger again. Donaldina would refuse at first. She always did. But refusal required alternatives. Once Roy was gone, once Dun Ard understood that the Crown could not protect it and the lesser clans stood behind Cormac, she would see what necessity demanded… or she would be made to see it.

“She will understand,” he nodded.

Alasdair watched him too closely. Cormac folded the map before the older man could find more than he had been offered.

Tormod held his hands toward the fire. “How many men?”

“Ten from each of ye. Men who can remain silent and whose loyalty isnae purchased by the first MacIver coin they see.”

“Twelve,” Tormod said. “I will bring twelve.”

Cormac looked to Alasdair.

The older chief remained silent for so long that rain began falling again beyond the tower, hissing against the dying fire where the broken roof admitted it.

At last, Alasdair placed one hand upon the folded map. “The western glen returns tae me clan.”