Wedded to the Twisted Highlander (Taming the Kilmartins #3)

Chapter 27

27

T homas stormed through the Great Hall, his eyes ablaze with fury as he paced before his councilmen and clansfolk. The air was thick with tension, palpable enough to slice through.

“How could this have happened?” he thundered, his voice echoing off the stone walls like the crack of thunder outside. “Me own castle, raided,.What kind of incompetence is this?”

The councilmen shifted uncomfortably, exchanging nervous glances. He watched as they squirmed, each averting their gazes as if they could avoid his wrath by ignoring his presence.

“We dinnae ken, Me Laird,” one of them managed to blurt out.

The man’s voice trembled with uncertainty. Thomas could hear the fear in his voice, and it grated on him.

How could his own men be such cowards? It was enough to make him want to plow through them as if they were a field of wheat that needed to be chopped down.

“We’re still tryin’ to piece together what happened.”

Thomas rounded on them, his face contorted in rage. “Come again? I dinnae think I heard ye correctly. Did ye tell me that ye’re still tryin’ to piece together what happened? Ye should have been prepared for this! Ye should have secured the castle! What is all yer trainin’ for? Why did ye nae send for me the instant the castle was under siege? Or are ye tellin’ me that someone let the snake into the garden?”

He paused, letting the possibility sink in. The longer it festered, the tighter he clenched his fists. His blood boiled as he glared at the men before him.

“Laird Chalium is a cunnin’ foe—” another councilman tried to interject, but Thomas cut him off with a sharp wave of his hand.

“Cunnin’ or nae, that doesnae excuse yer failure!” His voice rose, causing the clansfolk standing in the hall to cower. “Who was it?”

“We dinnae ken what ye’re talkin’ about.” A weakling of a man stepped forward with his hand raised.

Thomas narrowed his eyes at him like a hawk. “Who let Laird Chalium into the castle? Someone had to have opened the gates and ushered his forces in. So tell me, which one of ye did it?” he demanded, his tone dripping with accusation.

The clansfolk shifted uncomfortably as fear etched deeper lines into their faces.

Thomas’s gaze landed on Duncan as he recalled the last conversation they had. “Ye were the only man I told about me plans. And ye warned me, did ye nae?”

“Me Laird, I didnae let them in. I swear on me life,” Duncan said as Thomas pulled his dirk from its sheath and charged toward him.

Could his second-in-command have betrayed him?

For a fleeting moment, Thomas hesitated.

“Duncan,” he said, his voice cold and just as sharp as the blade that grazed his man-at-arms’ neck. “I told ye of me plans to leave the castle, did I nae? It was just ye and I in the study that evening. It was late. What did ye do, huh? Light a candle that morning to tell the enemy which side of the castle to attack?”

Duncan’s jaw flexed as he rolled his shoulders back. “Ye told me of yer plans, aye, but I said nothing.”

“And ye didnae think to increase the number of guards on watch while I was gone?” Thomas asked.

It was not Duncan he was mad at, but himself. He had trusted Duncan and held him in high regard, and yet here he was, the poison to his ointment.

Duncan hesitated as the tip of the blade drew blood.

Thomas’s anger surged anew like a wild tempest, threatening to consume him.

“Ye didnae even warn them, did ye?” he spat, his voice laced with venom. “Ye didnae do anything to lift a finger, did ye? How long have ye been workin’ wit’ Liard Chalium? Tell me!”

His voice boomed and rattled the stained-glass windows of the Great Hall.

Gasps rippled through the clansfolk at the sudden accusation.

Duncan’s face paled.

He took a step back, his hands raised defensively. “Me Laird, nay! I swear to ye, I had nothing to do with this!” His voice trembled, desperation creeping in.

“Ye expect me to believe that?” Thomas sneered, Duncan’s betrayal turning his stomach. “Ye, who have been by me side for years? Ye, who have kenned all me plans and secrets? Why? How much was yer loyalty bought for? Or was it the fact that ye couldnae see me happy?”

“The lass was ruinin’ ye and the clan. Yer faither and I worked so hard to keep ye focused on the things that mattered the most. Clan and family.”

“Astrid is family. Or were ye hopin’ that she’d be here? Is that why ye didnae want us to go? Astrid was the target… But if Astrid was the target, then who did Laird Chalium take?”

“Nay one,” Duncan answered, his voice pitching at the blade nicked his neck again.

“Dinnae insult me intelligence,” Thomas hissed. “Laird Chalium is a clever man. Ye said it before. He wouldnae have attacked and nae taken some prize, even if it wasnae the one he was initially after. So, I’ll ask once more before yer blood smears the floor of this hall. Who did Laird Chalium take?”

Duncan’s face suddenly contorted in disgust. “Ye had to go and ruin everything. If the wench was in the castle, Chalium would have taken her and left the rest of us be. She’s the one he wanted and paid a hefty price for.”

“What is the price ye put on me happiness and future?” Thomas snapped as he pressed the blade harder to the man’s neck.

“Chalium took?—”

“Olivia,” Astrid’s voice boomed through the Great Hall.

“Nae now,” Thomas barked over his shoulder as he returned his attention to Duncan.

A devilish smirk spread across Duncan’s lips, and malice flickered in his eyes. “I’d listen to what the lass has to say,” he whispered so low that Thomas had to lean close to hear him.

“Go on then, what’s this about?” Thomas called to Astrid.

“Olivia has been taken by Laird Chalium,” she announced.

Anger swirled and festered within Thomas for long enough. All he could see was red as he ended Duncan’s life and watched the body collapse into a heap on the floor. The sound of Astrid’s scream did little to ease his inner turmoil.

“Prepare for war,” he ordered. “I’ll have Chalium’s head on a spike before the sun rises over his lands.”

“Thomas, ye cannae. Think about Olivia,” Astrid pleaded. “If Chalium sees ye comin’, he willnae hesitate to kill her. Ye didnae want her blood on yer hands.”

“Then tell me what to do that makes any sense,” Thomas hissed as his frustration boiled over. He flipped the sturdy oak table as if it were nothing but a nuisance.

“Maybe there is a way we can get her back,” Astrid said, dropping her shoulders.

The happiness that had lit up her face just moments ago vanished. It was the defeat pooling in her gaze that rattled Thomas.

“I ken what ye’re thinkin’, and the answer is nay,” he barked.

“Ye and I both ken what that man wants,” Astrid argued.

“And what? I’m to cater to his every whim? I dinnae think so. I willnae bend the knee.”

“I’m nae askin’ ye to,” Astrid said as she moved closer to him and cupped his face in her hand.

Thomas craved her touch—he felt like it was the only thing holding him together.

How could he have missed the signs? Was Duncan right about his priorities being mixed up?

Thomas couldn’t think straight. He needed fresh air and something to take out his rage on. Archery wouldn’t do, no. He needed something far more violent and bloody.

“Barricade the castle,” he commanded. “Nay one comes in or out. I want eyes on every corner. If Chalium so much as sneezes, I want to ken.”

He felt a hot flash of guilt as a commotion at the entrance drew everyone’s attention. A young clansman, out of breath and flushed, pushed his way through the crowd.

“Me Laird, I beg yer pardon,” he said, his eyes wide with excitement. “But there’s a messenger at the gate, askin’ to speak with ye. He bears the colors of Clan Chalium.”

Thomas’s expression darkened as he wiped the blood from his dirk and stepped forward, eager to do it again. “Chalium dares to send a message now? Bring the man to me. I’ll see him laid next to the traitor at me feet.”

The thud of heavy boots and the clinking of armor bounced and echoed through the halls. Thomas folded his arms over his chest and stood taller the moment the messenger entered the Great Hall. How he wanted to lunge at him and rip his throat out.

Was he one of the men who came into his castle and stole his sister away? The thought provoked his ire.

He arched an eyebrow, daring the messenger to come closer.

“Laird McFair,” the messenger said with a wobbly bow.

Thomas said nothing. He stood like the sentinel that he had been trained to be.

“I’ve come wit’ news from Laird Chalium. He wishes to meet in person.”

Thomas eyed the messenger and moved toward him. Circling him, he contemplated what the man was thinking after witnessing the fate of the mole in his ranks. Was he worried that the same fate awaited him?

The thought was oddly satisfying.

Thomas arched an eyebrow as the messenger pulled a piece of parchment from his sporran.

As the last wisps of sunlight faded beyond the Highland hills, Thomas’s eyes narrowed, and he clenched his jaw. With a subtle nod, he signaled his men to encircle the room, ensuring that there was no way out except through them.

The messenger’s eyes widened with fear as he lowered his head and clasped his hands in prayer.

A small, cruel part of Thomas relished the knowledge that this pitiful soul was at his mercy. But as he gazed deeper into the messenger’s eyes, his thoughts shifted to his sister, Olivia.

Was she, too, in a similar predicament? But was she cowering in fear, at the mercy of her enemies? The very thought sent a shiver down his spine, and his fingers tightened around the familiar leather of his dirk.

His eyes never wavered, his expression a mask of calm, calculated interest.

“Speak,” he commanded, his deep voice low and even.

The messenger hesitated, his eyes darting around the room once more before returning to him. “Laird Chalium demands that ye meet him at the old oak tree on the border at sundown tomorrow,” he said, his words tumbling out in a rush. “He says—He says ye’re to bring Astrid to exchange for yer beloved sister, Olivia.”

Flexing his jaw, Thomas stared at the man hard.

It didn’t surprise him one bit that Laird Chalium would want to trade. The bastard had been after Astrid for months if not years now. And to have her so close…

Thomas swallowed hard. How many times had he tasted the same bittersweetness of revenge and justice? Yet, he couldn’t relish it, knowing that Astrid was the reason behind Laird Chalium’s attack.

“Ye think ye can come into me castle— me home —and tell me what I must do?” he growled, breaking the silence.

He charged toward the messenger, refusing to hold back an ounce of his ire and anger. Grabbing him by his collar, he lifted him off his feet.

The man thrashed about, desperate for air that Thomas was so easily denying him of.

“Ye’re goin’ to listen to me and listen to me well ,” Thomas said, his voice as soft as a butterfly’s wing. “If yer Laird harms a single hair on me sister’s head, I’ll plow through his ranks like a farmer takin’ the plow to a field. I’ll nae just stop at his gates, but I’ll also make sure that there’s nothing left of his memory. I’ll wipe every trace of his existence off this earth.”

He loosened his grip and watched as the man dropped to the floor and crumbled like a coward at his feet.

For a brief moment, Thomas couldn’t help but feel a pinch of pity for the man. How was he to know that he was betting on the wrong man?

“Get up,” Thomas barked as he gave him a swift kick.

The messenger scrambled to his feet as terror gripped him.

Thomas looked at the man’s soiled breeches and smiled. “Tell yer Laird that I’ll meet him, but he’ll nae be gettin’ what he wants.”

“Then Laird Chalium will b-be forced t-to take her, n-now that he is aware that she has returned,” the messenger stuttered.

Thomas grabbed the man’s collar again, growing more irritated. How he wanted to kill the messenger. To see his body piled next to his other conquests. It would have been grand.

But if there was one thing Thomas was certain of, it was that Astrid was going to need protection, and Olivia would need a miracle.

He raked his fingers through his hair, refusing to look anything but calm and collected. Deep down, he wanted Astrid by his side. She was the source of his strength now. He had handed it over to her willingly, and now she would have to be the one to stoke the flames of vengeance.

“I suggest ye run back to yer master before I unleash the hounds on ye,” Thomas growled as he tossed the messenger like a sack of flour.

The messenger stumbled, and the moment he regained his balance, he took off down the hall, making a beeline for the front door.

“Keep an eye on which direction he goes. I want to ken where we can expect an attack. I’ll want extra men watchin’ the grounds. I’ll nae leave one corner unguarded, do ye hear me?” Thomas shouted as he glared at the men around him.

With nods, the guards left the Great Hall to carry out his orders.

Thomas moved to his chair and sat down as the weight of the world settled on his shoulders.

“Are ye sure ye ken what ye’re doin’?”

Astrid’s question rattled him to his core. He looked up to find her walking toward him, her eyes wide with worry.

“There’s nay question as to what I am goin’ to do,” he said, sitting up straighter. “I’ll nae lose ye.”

His voice rang with such conviction that it steeled his resolve.

If he never accomplished anything else in his life, he was going to save his sister without losing his wife.

“I swear it.”