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“So he broke off the engagement,” Rogene said, “and in response, she kidnapped him and took him…back to Ross, I suppose?”

“Aye, they’re all gone,” Catrìona said. “But are ye sure he was kidnapped?”

“I’m sure. I saw them with my own eyes. They knocked me out.”

Catrìona turned to Laomann. “So, brother? Come on, command the men to get on their horses. We have to get him back.”

Laomann stared at her as though he had a toothache. “But they’re clan Ross. Our overlords.”

Catrìona widened her eyes. “Laomann, our brother’s in the hands of a woman who has a habit of beheading men.”

Laomann looked at Mairead, who was holding Ualan close, her face in a deep frown.

“Laomann,” she said quietly, “I ken ye had to make hard decisions to avoid conflict for my and Ualan’s sakes…”

Rogene watched in astonishment how Laomann’s face lit up with love. The deep lines on his forehead smoothed; his dark eyes stopped jumping from object to object, face to face. They sparkled as he watched his wife and son.

“Mairead, dear,” he said, his voice deep and confident. Rogene wondered for a moment if this was his usual manner when he was alone with Mairead and Ualan. No judging eyes on him, no pressure, no decisions to make.

“But ye also have to protect yer brother,” Mairead finished.

Rogene was thinking hard. All her being was screaming at herself to demand the same as Catrìona, that they get the men, get the horses, and go save Angus. But then again, she would be interfering with the flow of history. Maybe this was how Angus was supposed to fall in love with Euphemia. Maybe he needed to see her strength and decisiveness to really open up to her, and then they’d get married and have Paul… She’d seen the marriage registration—it was in the museum in Edinburgh.

But her heart was screaming something else entirely. He was in danger. A deranged woman who wanted him but couldn’t have him had kidnapped him. Euphemia had a huge ego and she tended to get people killed when she was offended.

She could torture him for sport, keep him in her dungeon forever, even force herself on him…

Her whole body went cold.

To hell with history. If history was about making people she cared for suffer, she wanted none of that. To hell with the Stuart line. To hell with everything. She couldn’t allow Angus to get hurt.

“Yes, Lord,” she said. “Your wife is right. Please, command your men to go, and I’ll go, as well. Let’s get him back.”

Laomann swallowed hard but kept staring at her.

Was he really such a coward? Was he truly not going to stand up and protect the brother who’d taken beatings for him?

“Lord,” she said, “you can’t leave Angus in peril now, after everything he’s done for you. After he’s been a shield and a protector for you and your clan his whole life, how can you let him down now that he needs you to be his protector?”

Laomann swallowed and paled. Then he stood up and nodded, slamming his fist against the table. “Aye. Ye’re right, Lady Rogene. ’Tis time I had his back, too. I give ye a dozen of our best men. Go. Get Angus back.”

Rogene nodded.

Catrìona looked at him. “I’ll go, too.”

She walked around the table, hooked her arm through Rogene’s, and walked her towards the door. “My brother Raghnall is in Dornie, and he will want to go help Angus. Let’s get him back.”

As Rogene marched with Catrìona, she knew she’d do whatever it took. Even if she had to give up everything she loved or cared about, she would not let any harm come to Angus.

Chapter 23

Delny, Ross

A week later…

The door to the bedchamber opened and Euphemia slid into the room. Damn it. Angus jolted, and struggled to free himself from the handcuffs that were attached to the bed’s headboard. He was naked under the soft furs. It would have been better had she thrown him into a dungeon with no windows and with water dripping down ancient walls.

Instead, this was a rich bedchamber for the most important guests. Warm, thanks to the large fireplace, with two slit windows allowing plenty of light and even fur rugs by the foot of the large canopy bed. The mattress was filled with goose down, the bed linens clean, and the blanket warm. He’d never been so comfortable in his life, goddamn it.