Page 89 of The Highlander’s Savage Vow

CHAPTER THIRTY

MacNab Castle

"The damned MacNeill whore played right intae our hands," Murray MacNab said with satisfaction, leaning back in his chair by the fire. "By the time the king finishes questioning her testimony, she'll be exposed as the lying thief she truly is."

Bruce, a second degree cousin of his, nodded from his position across the chamber, though something in his expression suggested less certainty than his laird displayed. "The forged letters were convincing, but what if she has other evidence? Something we haven't accounted fer?"

Murray's laugh was harsh and confident. "It will be easy tae deny it came from me. All she has is a desperate woman's word against mine. The king will see through her lies soon enough, and then MacDuff will have tae answer fer harboring a known traitor."

The sound of boots in the corridor outside made both men look toward the door. A sharp knock followed, and Murray called out with obvious pleasure, "Enter!"

A guard stepped in, his face carefully neutral as he approached with a sealed letter bearing the royal arms. "From His Majesty's court, me lord. Urgent dispatch."

Murray's eyes gleamed as he reached for the parchment. "At last. Nay doubt the king requires me testimony tae complete the case against that MacDuff bastard and his treacherous bride." He broke the seal with eager fingers, his smile widening as he prepared tae read his vindication. But as his eyes moved across the royal summons, his expression shifted. The confident smirk faded, replaced first by confusion, then by dawning horror, and finally by a rage so pure and violent that Bruce instinctively shifted in his chair.

"What daes it say?" Bruce asked quietly.

Murray's face had gone white except for two spots of livid color high on his cheekbones. His hands began tae shake as he read the letter again, as if hoping the words would somehow change.

"They... she..." His voice came out strangled. "They believed the bitch’s evidence. A letter from me own hand. They're summoning me tae court tae answer charges of blackmail and treason."

The silence that followed was deafening. The guard remained frozen by the door, clearly sensing the dangerous shift in the room's atmosphere.

Suddenly Murray surged tae his feet, his dirk flashing as he drew it from his belt. "Ye!" he snarled at the messenger. "What did ye hear from the soldier that delivered this? What lies are they spreading?"

The guard's eyes went wide with terror as Murray advanced on him, the blade gleaming in the firelight. "N-naething, me lord! I only carried the message⁠—"

"Lies! All of ye, spreading poison about me!" Murray raised the dirk, his face twisted with murderous fury. "I'll cut the tongue from yer head before I let ye⁠—"

"Murray!" Bruce's sharp voice cut through the madness. "The guard is nae yer enemy. He's one of our own men."

Murray paused, the blade hovering inches from the guard's throat, his breathing ragged. For a moment, it seemed he might strike anyway, lost completely to his rage.

"Think," Bruce continued urgently. "Killing our own men serves nae purpose. Let him go."

Slowly, reluctantly, Murray lowered the dirk. The guard stumbled backward, his face pale with terror, clearly understanding how close he'd come tae death.

"Get out," Murray said quietly, his voice more dangerous in its control than his earlier shouting had been. "Get out before I change me mind."

The guard fled without a word, his boots echoing frantically down the corridor. Murray remained standing, the dirk still in his white-knuckled grip, his chest rising and falling with the effort tae control his fury.

Bruce waited until the footsteps faded before speaking. "What will we dae?"

Murray turned toward him, and Bruce was struck by how his laird's face had changed. Gone was the confident schemer who'd played Highland politics like a master chess player. In his place stood a man driven tae the edge of madness by desperation and wounded pride.

"Dae?" Murray's laugh was bitter. "What will we dae Bruce? We'll nae crawl tae Stirling like whipped dogs tae face their mock trial."

"But if we ignore the royal summons⁠—"

"Then we'll be outlaws." Murray's voice carried a strange satisfaction, as if the prospect of casting off all pretense freed him from some burden. "But at least we'll be free tae deal with our enemies as they deserve."

He moved to the window, staring out at his lands with eyes that seemed to see far beyond the familiar landscape. "The MacNeill whore thinks she's won. Thinks she can destroy me with stolen letters and tearful testimony before the king."

"Murray—"

"She's forgotten something important." Murray turned back, his eyes blazing with renewed purpose. "Kings may pass judgment, but justice belongs tae those with the strength tae take it. And I intend tae take mine."

Bruce felt a chill run down his spine at the tone in his laird's voice. "What are ye planning?"