Page 95 of The Laird’s Sinful Secret

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Blood pooled on the deck where Euan’s men threw the prisoner down at his feet.

The MacKenzie warrior was young—barely past twenty, with terror warring against defiance in his eyes as rough hands forced him to his knees. His face was a mess of bruises and cuts, but he lifted his chin with stubborn pride.

“Talk.” Euan’s voice cut through the salt wind like a blade. He stood over the prisoner, sword still drawn, the weapon’s edge dark with MacKenzie blood. “Who sent ye? What were yer orders?”

The young warrior’s mouth twisted. Then he spat—a glob of blood and saliva that splattered across Euan’s boot.

Niall moved forward, fist clenched, but Euan raised a hand. “Leave him.”

“Me laird⁠—”

“I said leave him.” Euan crouched down, bringing himself eye-level with the prisoner. “Ye’re brave. I’ll give ye that. But bravery willnae save ye now. Yer ship is taken. Yer men are dead or captured. And ye’re going tae tell me what I want tae ken, one way or another.”

“I’ll tell ye naething, MacLeod.” The defiance didn’t quite hide the fear beneath. “Kill me and be done with it.”

“Oh, I will.” Euan kept his tone conversational. “But first, ye’re going tae answer me questions. Starting with why Keith MacKenzie sent a single ship tae test me defenses.”

The prisoner’s jaw clenched. “Go tae hell.”

“Already been there.” Euan straightened, gesturing to Niall. “Strip him. Check fer anything useful. Then throw him in the hold with the others.”

“Wait!” The word burst out. “Wait, ye—ye cannae⁠—”

“Cannae what?” Euan turned back. “Cannae treat ye the same way yer laird treated me people? The same way he burned villages and murdered children?”

“That wasnae me! I didnae⁠—”

“But ye followed orders, didnae ye?” Euan’s voice hardened. “Ye sailed here tae scout our defenses. So aye, lad—ye’re complicit in every death. And unless ye give me a reason nae tae, I’ll see ye hang fer it.”

The prisoner’s face went grey. “This was just the beginning. The beginning, ye understand? Laird MacKenzie—he’s nae coming with one ship.”

Euan’s blood went cold. “How many?”

“Ten. Maybe more.” The words tumbled out. “He’s been gathering forces fer weeks. Paid shipwrights, hired mercenaries. He means tae take Skye entire, nae just raid it.”

“When?” Euan demanded.

“Days. Maybe less.” The prisoner’s good eye darted between warriors. “We were supposed tae scout yer defenses, report back. Then the main force would come—overwhelming numbers, multiple landing sites. Ye’d be fighting on all fronts at once.”

Niall cursed. “That’s six hundred men, minimum.”

“Why now?” Euan asked quietly. “Why such a massive escalation?”

The prisoner’s gaze dropped. “Because of her.”

Every muscle in Euan’s body went rigid. “Who?”

“The laird’s daughter. Lady Moyra.”

“So this is revenge?” Niall’s voice carried disbelief.

“It’s nae just revenge.” The prisoner looked up. “As long as she’s alive, she’s a rallying point. MacKenzies who remember her maither might look tae her instead of him. She’s a threat tae his control.”

Understanding crashed through Euan. Keith didn’t just want to conquer Dunvegan. He wanted to eliminate his daughter—permanently.

“What role is she meant tae play?” The question came out harsh.