Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Campbell's Great Hall, Inveraray Castle
"Gentlemen, that concludes our business fer today."
Angus Campbell's voice rang through the great hall, dismissing the assembled lairds with the casual authority of a man who'd never questioned his right to command. Around the long table, chairs scraped against stone as men rose, gathering their cloaks and calling for their retainers.
Roderick Munro remained seated, his hands clenched into fists beneath the table.
"Munro." Balgair Ross paused beside his chair, his face a mask of false sympathy. "Me condolences on yer... unfortunate circumstances at the auction."
"Save yer pity, Ross. It daesnae suit ye."
"Nay pity intended." Ross's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Just notin’ that some of us managed tae secure alliances while others... didnae."
"Get out."
Ross laughed and moved away, joining the stream of departing lairds. Each one represented a successful match, a new alliance forged, a strengthened position within the Pact. Each one was a reminder of Roderick's spectacular failure.
When the hall had finally emptied, save for Campbell's personal guards, Roderick stood and approached the high table where Campbell sat reviewing documents.
"We need tae talk," Roderick said without preamble.
"Dae we?" Campbell didn't look up from his papers. "I thought everythin’ was said durin’ the meetin’."
"Everythin’ public was said. The private matters remain."
"Ah." Campbell set down his quill and leaned back in his chair, studying Roderick with eyes that missed nothing. "Ye're still angry about MacDonald."
"Angry?" Roderick's voice rose despite his attempt at control. "I'm furious. That bastard made a mockery of the entire auction, of our plans, of everythin’ we'd arranged."
"He followed the rules," Campbell interrupted calmly. "Every last one of them. Attended masked, bid fairly, paid in full. There was naethin’ irregular about his participation."
"Naethin’ irregular? He wasnae even supposed tae be there! That invitation was meant fer his cousin's branch of the clan, nae him!"
"The invitation was addressed tae Clan MacDonald. Tòrr MacDonald is the laird of that clan. Technically, he had every right tae attend."
"Technically." Roderick spat the word like a curse. "Ye're hidin’ behind technicalities while me position within the Pact crumbles?"
Campbell's expression hardened. "Sit down, Munro, and lower yer voice. Me guards dinnae need tae hear ye whinin’ like a child who lost a game."
Roderick wanted to refuse, to storm out, to do anything but submit to Campbell's authority. But he needed the man's support too badly.
He sat.
"Better." Campbell poured two glasses of whisky and pushed one across the table. "Now. Let's discuss this like civilized men, shall we?"
"There's naethin’ civilized about what MacDonald did."
"Wasnae there? He saw an opportunity, seized it, and outmaneuvered us both. That's nae uncivilized. That's clever."
"It was a betrayal of everythin’ the Pact stands fer!"
"The Pact stands for stability, Munro. Fer order. Fer controllin’ the Highlands through strategic alliances." Campbell took a slow sip of whisky. "MacDonald's actions were disruptive, aye, but they werenae illegal. And that's our problem."
"Then we make them illegal. We challenge the marriage, demand Liliane's return."
"On what grounds?" Campbell's voice was sharp. "That we dinnae like who won the auction? That's nae how this works."
"On the grounds that he forced the match! That he had no business being there in the first place!"
Campbell set down his glass with deliberate care. "If we challenge him now, we look like poor losers. Worse, we look weak. Unable tae control our own proceedin’s."
"So we dae naethin’?" Roderick's voice rose again. "We let him mock us, steal me daughter, destroy me alliance with a laird within the Pact, and we just... accept it?"
"I didnae say we dae naethin’. I said we cannae challenge him openly." Campbell's eyes glinted with calculation. "There are other ways tae handle this."
"Such as?"
"Patience. Strategy. Waitin’ fer MacDonald tae make a mistake we can exploit."
"That could take months!" Roderick slammed his fist on the table. "Meanwhile, every laird in the Pact looks at me and sees failure. They see a man who couldnae even manage a simple transaction. How long before they start questionin’ whether I'm worth the alliance at all?"
"That depends entirely on how ye handle this situation." Campbell's voice was cold. "If ye rage and storm and demand immediate action, ye'll confirm every doubt they have. But if ye show restraint, cunnin’, political acumen... ye might salvage this yet."
Roderick forced himself to breathe slowly, to think past the fury clouding his judgment. "First, we send MacDonald a formal letter. Polite, diplomatic, requestin’ the return of yer daughter on the grounds that the marriage was made under irregular circumstances."
"He'll refuse." Campbell leaned forward.
"Of course he will. But that's nae the point. The point is establishin’ a paper trail. Evidence that ye tried tae resolve this peacefully, that MacDonald is the aggressor, nae us."
"And when he refuses?"
"Then we have grounds tae escalate. Carefully, subtly, but escalate nonetheless."
Roderick paused. "So what dae ye think about the other clans? Will they support me?"
"Some will. Those who see MacDonald's defiance as a threat tae the Pact's stability." Campbell's expression was calculating. "Others will wait tae see which way the wind blows. That's why yer response must be measured. Show them ye're a man who thinks before he acts."
"I am thinkin’. I'm thinkin’ MacDonald humiliated me in front of every clan that matters."
"And now ye'll show them that humiliation daesnae break ye. That ye're stronger than one setback." Campbell's voice hardened. "Unless ye're nae. Unless ye'd prefer tae wallow in self-pity while yer standing crumbles."
The words stung because they held truth. Roderick took a long drink of whisky, feeling it burn down his throat.
“The letter,” Roderick said finally, his tone cold and deliberate. “I’ll have it written tonight.”
Campbell arched a brow. “Oh? And what exactly will it say?”
“That the MacDonald laird has stolen what’s mine by right. That he used deceit and false bidding tae take her from me. I’ll demand her return under clan law and by the authority of the Pact.”
A slow smile spread across Campbell’s face. “Stronger words than I expected. Careful, Roderick. Too much heat and they’ll smell desperation.”
“I dinnae care what they smell,” Roderick snapped. “He humiliated me in front of every laird in the room. I’ll nae let it stand.”
Campbell leaned back, studying him with mild amusement. “Then perhaps temper the rage with precision. A formal demand fer her return, aye, that will dae nicely. Cite irregularities in the auction process, hint at coercion. Diplomatic on the surface, but sharp enough tae cut.”
Roderick’s mouth twisted into a grim smile. “Let them see I’ve teeth, Angus. I’ll nae be made a fool in me own Highlands.” Roderick's mind was already racing ahead. "I have another daughter. Nessa. She's young still, but in a few years…"
"Dinnae." Campbell's voice cut like a blade. "Dinnae even think about offerin’ another daughter until we ken how this situation resolves."
"Why nae? If Liliane is truly lost tae me, Nessa could take her place."
"Or she could become another embarrassment if ye rush intae arrangements before the ground is solid.
" Campbell's eyes were hard. "How will it look if ye lose two daughters tae poor plannin’? The other lairds will think ye cannae control yer own household, let alone contribute meanin’fully tae the Pact. "
"The girl." Roderick's eyes narrowed. "Liliane.
She hates him, I'm sure of it. Nay daughter of mine would welcome a forced marriage." Roderick’s jaw worked as he paced before the fire, fury simmering just beneath the surface. “MacDonald may have her now, but the Highlands have long memories. If the marriage hasnae been sealed, truly sealed, then it’s nay a marriage at all.”
Campbell’s brow rose, the hint of approval flickering in his eyes. “Go on.”
“A union unconsummated is a union unblessed. Church law, Highland custom, it’s all the same. If word of that spreads, the Council will side with me. I’ll have grounds tae demand her return. Legal grounds.”
“Aye,” Campbell said smoothly, swirling his wine. “And that demand will force MacDonald into a corner. He’ll either produce proof or expose himself as a liar. Either way, he bleeds.”
Roderick’s mouth curved into a cruel smile. “Let him choke on his pride. He humiliated me before half the lairds in the Highlands, now I’ll strip him of his honor piece by piece.”
Campbell leaned forward slightly, his tone mild but edged.
“A fine start, Roderick. But a clever man daesnae simply demand. He makes the other side come tae him. Send the letter, aye, but make sure it reaches every clan worth the name. Let them all see that MacDonald’s honor hangs on the word of one frightened lass. ”
Roderick’s expression hardened with satisfaction. “Then that’s what I’ll do.” He turned toward the door, firelight catching the cruel glint in his eyes. “If he’s nae yet claimed her, he’ll wish he had before I’m done.”
"We wait. We watch. We gather information." Campbell's voice was patient. "And when the opportunity presents itself, we strike. Carefully, strategically, but decisively."
"I want yer backin’," he said finally. "If this daes escalate intae conflict, I need tae ken the Pact will support me."
Campbell was quiet for a long moment. "Me loyalty is tae the Pact of Argyll, Munro. Nae tae any single laird's personal ambitions."
"This isnae personal ambition. This is about maintainin’ the order we've all agreed tae uphold."
"Is it? Because from here, it looks remarkably like wounded pride dressed up as principle."
Roderick's jaw clenched. "MacDonald defied us both. He violated the spirit of the auction, if nae the letter."
"The spirit daesnae matter. Only the letter.
" Campbell's voice was cold. "That's how law works, how power works, how survival works in these Highlands.
Ye can rage about spirit and intention all ye want, but at the end of the day, MacDonald followed the rules.
We wrote those rules, Munro. We cannae cry foul when someone uses them better than we expected. "
"So ye willnae support me."
"I didnae say that." Campbell poured more whisky for them both. "I said me loyalty is tae the Pact. And right now, the Pact's stability requires we handle this carefully."
"That's nae an answer."
"It's the only answer ye're getting’." Campbell met his eyes steadily. "If yer actions serve the Pact's interests, if they strengthen our position, weaken our enemies, advance our goals, then aye, ye'll have me support. But if ye act out of pride or vengeance or impatience, ye'll be on yer own."
"I ken the difference. Ye dinnae need tae teach me."
Campbell's smile was thin. "Still think of me as yer conscience, Munro. The voice of reason temperin’ yer more... impulsive instincts."
Roderick drained his whisky, the burn doing nothing to cool his temper. "I want tae send that letter within the week."
"Ye shall."
"And I want assurances that when MacDonald refuses, and he will refuse, we'll have a plan fer the next step."
"We'll have several plans. Contingencies upon contingencies." Campbell stood, signaling the meeting was over. "But they all require one thing from ye, Munro."
"What's that?"
"Patience. Can ye manage that? Or will ye charge off half-cocked and ruin everythin’?"
Roderick rose as well, his muscles taut with suppressed fury. "I can be patient. When I ken there's a purpose tae the waitin’."
"The purpose is victory. Nae immediate, nae flashy, but inevitable." Campbell walked him toward the door. "Trust in that. Trust in me. And most importantly, trust that MacDonald has made more enemies than he realizes. Men who will remember his defiance when the time comes tae choose sides."
"And me daughter? What happens tae her while we're being patient?"
"She becomes MacDonald's problem, nae yers." Campbell's voice was matter-of-fact. "If he treats her poorly, it reflects badly on him. If he fails tae consummate the marriage, we have legal grounds tae challenge. And if she's miserable enough, she might even provide us with information we can use."
"Ye want me tae use me own daughter as a spy?"
"I want ye tae use every resource available tae achieve yer goals." Campbell opened the door. "That's what leaders dae, Munro. They make hard choices. They sacrifice what they must tae win what matters."
Roderick stepped into the corridor, his mind churning with plans and contingencies and the bitter taste of political necessity.
"One more thing," Campbell said from the doorway. "Yer other daughter. Nessa, was it?"
"Aye. What about her?"
"Keep her close. Keep her safe. Keep her available." Campbell's eyes glinted. "If we need tae make new arrangements down the road, it's best tae have options ready."
"I thought ye said nae tae rush."
"I said nae tae offer her yet. But being prepared is different from being hasty." Campbell's smile was cold. "After all, we never ken when opportunity might knock. And when it daes, we'd best be ready tae answer."
He closed the door, leaving Roderick alone in the dim corridor.
One daughter lost to MacDonald. Another waiting at Foulis, young and biddable and potentially useful. Roderick's hands clenched into fists as he walked toward the castle exit where his men waited.
Patience, Campbell had said. Strategy. Political maneuvering.
But how long could a man be patient while his position crumbled? How long could he wait while MacDonald enjoyed what should have been Ross's prize?
Not forever. That much was certain. And when his patience ran out, when Campbell's careful plans moved too slowly, Roderick would act on his own. Let MacDonald enjoy his stolen bride while he could. Nothing lasted forever in the Highlands, especially not happiness built on other men's humiliation.