Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
It was the third day in a row that Murdoch had been invited to the war room for the low-level meetings, but today was the first time that Morag Caindach had ever been invited along with them.
When the invitation had arrived at her room that morning, she'd initially been surprised, even suspicious, but understanding had followed swiftly when her maid arrived with the dress her father had chosen for her.
It was green as a pine tree in a snowstorm, the color almost scandalous in its brazen unluckiness but nevertheless producing a hypnotizing effect when paired with her dark hair and equally-green eyes.
The bodice was daringly low-cut, the tailor fit perfect, and the necklace she wore drew the eye to her long, slender neck.
The note, in her father's hand, simply said, Ye ken what tae do.
With this gift, her father had sent her a clear message—it was a dress made for attracting the eyes of men and getting them to spill their secrets.
Morag had always been good at sensing lies, especially from men who were easily distracted by a pretty face.
Her talent had gotten her into trouble more than once; she'd been able to sense that Elsie Kincaid had been hiding something, and it had rebounded into Morag herself losing everything.
But with this dress and Murdoch's already-caught eye—she'd noticed how he'd looked at her on the training field—this time, she couldn't fail.
She wore the dress, staring critically in the mirror as it draped perfectly over her form. It did emphasize her beauty and desirability, though it would have never been acceptable for an unmarried noblewoman in company under normal circumstances.
She felt the implied insult like a slap. Her father was making it very clear that, since she was no longer of any use for marriage, he may as well get out of her whatever else she could give. He'd given up on her entirely, and he didn't care who knew.
Sighing, she called her maid to fix her hair, wearing it braided and pinned up from her neck to keep the soft curve of her shoulders in sight.
If she had to do the job, then she would do it well.
She checked herself in the mirror one last time, then, with a nod, turned her back on herself and walked out of the door.
The room was smaller and less dark than the large meeting hall where Murdoch had first walked into their lives.
Only the most important of their allies were present, about thirteen men in total, plus Morag, her father, Laird Campbell and Ian, and Murdoch.
The atmosphere in the room was different, too; there was a strange hushed anticipation hanging over them all, and, rather than their usual talking over each other, every allied man was quiet as they kept their eyes focused on Murdoch.
"Is it true, Campbell?" one of the men finally burst through the silence. "Is this lad really yer son?"
While all eyes went to Alistair's, Morag's gaze remained fixed firmly on Murdoch's face.
The young man wore a completely neutral expression, almost disinterested, but Morag saw beyond it.
His eyes, bright and intelligent, focused on each of the Lairds in turn.
With a jolt, Morag suddenly understood very clearly that she wasn't the only one in this room with the explicit purpose of taking in as much information as possible.
"That remains tae be seen," Campbell said, though Morag didn't miss the prideful look he shot toward Murdoch. "He certainly seems tae be provin' himself though."
"He's me brother all right," Ian added, "By blood, at least. We've yet tae see if he's a true Campbell by spirit."
"I'll do what it takes tae prove me place," Murdoch replied immediately. "I'm here tae show loyalty tae me family and make up for our lost years, nae matter what it takes."
Strangely, Morag was sure that he was telling the truth, and yet something nagged at the back of her mind. His wording was so careful, so precise, that she wondered what else was hiding just below the surface.
Alistair nodded approvingly. "The lad has spent the bulk of his years amongst our enemies, gentlemen. The Kincaids stole him. His sister, me traitor daughter, is wed tae a Murray. Let us take the opportunity tae learn from him, shall we?"
The interrogation began immediately. Morag knew it was the reason her father had chosen now to use her; she was here to watch as carefully as she could and pick up the lies, even while Murdoch was watching her.
She hid her smile every time the handsome young man's eyes slid in her direction.
Despite his careful neutrality, it was obvious that he was no better than any other man based on the way he kept looking at her.
"Will the Kincaids go to war for the Murrays should it come to it?" Laird McLaughlin demanded abruptly.
"Of course they will," Murdoch replied, shrugging. "They're old friends, and besides that, they see Elsie as their daughter, and now she's a Murray as well."
"By Elsie, ye mean our sister, Isla." Ian growled the words, his fist visibly tightening on the arm of his chair.
Murdoch shook his head. "She forsook that name when she learned the truth and spurned it. I'm what's left tae return tae ye. Elsie is just another one of them, and she must be taken down with the rest. I'll slay her meself if I have tae."
Stroking his chin, Alistair nodded. "The lass aside, what ken ye of the Murrays? Are they prepared for war?"
"Me sister traveled tae them alone, as I'm sure Laird Caindach and his daughter can confirm," Murdoch replied.
When he met Morag's eyes, her whole body jolted with shock at the intensity she saw there, and a shiver ran down her arms and tingled in her fingertips.
"What say ye, Miss Caindach? Ye were so talkative last time."
Morag pursed her lips. She could tell he was baiting her deliberately, and it annoyed her that she couldn't work out why.
She'd also been placed in an impossible situation.
If she didn't answer him, she'd be rude—but if she, as a woman, spoke out of turn, her father would be furious. She glanced at Laird Caindach.
"Speak, woman," Caindach commanded. "Has yer silly brain lost command of yer tongue?"
Taking a breath to stop her annoyance from surfacing, Morag nodded. "Of course, Father. Forgive me. Aye, Murdoch speaks truly; he didnae set foot in Murray Castle the whole time I was there. I will say that they seemed on edge but nae prepared for all-out warfare."
"But the Kincaids are ready tae fight with them at a moment's notice, as are several of their oldest allies," Murdoch continued. "I can give ye information where I have it, but I'm afraid we're gonnae be takin' a risk nae matter what."
The meeting continued along the same vein, with different leaders shooting pointed questions at Murdoch and Murdoch answering with smooth, practiced ease.
Morag tried her best, but she found detecting lies almost impossible.
On top of that, when Alistair or Ian tested Murdoch with information they secretly already had, Murdoch flawlessly and invariably answered with something that matched their existing information.
By the end of the three hours, even Laird Caindach was looking somewhat satisfied by Murdoch, but that nagging voice in Morag's head had just grown louder. Yes, he played the part of a Campbell exceedingly well—but she could not forget the brightness in his eyes.
The leaders, Alistair, and Ian cleared out of the room, Ian instructing the guards to leave Murdoch alone.
Apparently, the prodigal son had truly earned the freedom to wander the castle thanks to his performance.
Morag stayed in her seat until all the men were gone, her mind whirring as she tried to work out what she was missing.
"Escort him tae his chamber," Laird Caindach hissed in her ear. "Find out anythin' else ye can, and if he invites ye inside, ye're tae accompany him."
Morag shivered in disgust, not necessarily at the idea of Murdoch but more at the fact her father saw her as so much of a pawn.
Nevertheless, she nodded, staying seated and silent until Laird Caindach, too, had fully left the room.
When she and Murdoch were alone, she stood and slowly walked toward him where he was leaning over a map and reading something intently.
"Ye held back. They might nae have noticed, but I did," she said without preamble. She knew her father would be furious at her choice of topic, but she could not help the words as they slid from her tongue. "I want tae ken what game ye're playin' here."
Murdoch turned to face her, eyebrow arched again, the same mocking smile on his face he'd worn every time he addressed her much to the amusement of the other men.
"Holdin' back?" he asked. "What would ye have had me say?"
"More," Morag snapped back. "Did ye think ye went unnoticed, feedin' them scraps of information until they were too fat for the real meat? Ye caught me by surprise with yer half-truths at first, but I understand now."
"Do ye?" He folded his arms. "A bonny lass like ye doesnae look like ye understand much. I think yer hands are clearly more fit for a knittin' needle than the intricacies of war strategy."
"And yers better suited tae a polearm than a chess match!" Morag shook her head, riled despite her promise to herself to stay calm. "Are ye here as a friend or a traitor? Answer me plainly."
"I'm nae traitor," Murdoch said sharply and with such conviction that it was impossible that it was anything but true. He leaned closer to her, and for a moment her heart stuttered as those bright hazel eyes stared into her own. "But that doesnae make me yer friend, lass."
Abruptly, he pulled back, and Morag gasped as she caught the breath she'd forgotten to take under his gaze. Indescribably disoriented, she took a moment to right herself, and by the time she did, Murdoch was already halfway out of the door.