Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
Dawn broke grey and cold over Dunvegan Castle, and Euan MacLeod had already been awake for hours.
He stood at the head of the council table, watching his men file into the chamber with expressions ranging from curious to deeply concerned.
They’d heard whispers, of course—a castle kept no secrets for long.
Word of the MacKenzie woman had spread through the halls like wildfire, and now his Council wanted answers.
Answers he wasn’t entirely sure he had.
Niall entered last, closing the heavy oak door behind him with deliberate finality. The sound echoed through the stone chamber like a judge’s gavel, and every face turned toward Euan with expectant silence.
Malcolm, his oldest councilor, leaned forward with narrowed eyes. Fergus, the master-at-arms, crossed his thick arms over his chest. Daniel, his strategic advisor, studied Euan with keen intelligence. The other five councilors arranged themselves around the table, waiting.
“Gentlemen.” Euan’s voice cut through the quiet. “Thank ye fer coming on such short notice. We have matters tae discuss that cannae wait.”
“Would these matters involve a certain red-haired lass currently residing in yer guest chambers?” Malcolm’s weathered face showed concern rather than judgment.
“Aye.” No point in dancing around it. “During our raid on Norham Castle, we discovered a prisoner in the dungeons. Lady Moyra MacKenzie, daughter of Laird Keith MacKenzie.”
The reaction was immediate. Malcolm’s hand stilled on the table. Fergus’ jaw tightened, one scarred hand dropping to the dirk at his belt. Daniel’s eyes sharpened with calculation.
“Keith MacKenzie’s daughter?” Malcolm’s voice was dangerously soft. “The same Keith MacKenzie who married Ishbel fer her MacLeod blood? Who’s been making claims tae our lands fer the past six months?”
“The very same.” Euan met each man’s gaze in turn. “She’d been marking days on her cell wall—three months’ worth of scratches. Nay ransom demand. Nay rescue attempt. English soldiers willing tae die tae keep her contained.”
“Convenient.” Fergus’ blunt assessment cut through the tension. “Mighty convenient that ye find her during a raid that had naething tae dae with the MacKenzies.”
“I thought the same.” Euan moved to the window, staring out at the courtyard where he’d first carried Moyra through the gates.
The memory of her weight in his arms, her exhaustion, those bruised wrists—it made his chest tighten in ways he absolutely couldn’t afford.
“Which is why I brought the matter tae all of ye instead of making decisions alone.”
Niall spoke up from his position near the fire. “The raid was about Andersen. Our men went tae Norham because we had intelligence he was there—the same hired sword who fought at Loch Eilein, who helped wound Euan’s father and left him—” He stopped, but they all knew how that sentence ended.
Scarred. Broken. Nearly dead at six years old.
“Aye.” Euan’s hand went unconsciously to his shoulder, feeling the ridge of scar tissue through his shirt.
“We found what we needed—proof that Andersen was paid by Norham’s garrison tae incite that battle, tae create chaos that would weaken Highland unity.
” His jaw tightened. “I swore an oath tae avenge what was done tae me family that day. That vengeance has begun. But we also found something—someone—we hadnae expected.”
“A plant.” Daniel’s keen black eyes narrowed. “Keith sends his daughter to an English dungeon, makes it look like abandonment, then ensures ye’ll find her during yer justified raid. Now ye have a MacKenzie under yer roof, and he has exactly what he wants—access tae Castle MacLeod.”
The logic was sound. Euan and Niall had wrestled with the same suspicions. But the image of Moyra in that cell, filthy and defiant, those rope burns circling her wrists—that wasn’t strategy. That was real suffering.
Wasn’t it?
“She claims she was traveling tae Lindisfarne Priory when her party was attacked,” Euan said. “English soldiers killed her guards and took her tae Norham.”
“And ye believe that?” Fergus’ skepticism was palpable.
“I dinnae ken what tae believe.” Euan turned from the window. “Which is why we’re here. Tae decide what’s tae be done with her.”
“Send her back,” one of the younger councilors said immediately. “Every moment she’s here is a moment Keith MacKenzie can use against us.”
“Or,” Daniel interrupted, his strategist’s mind clearly working, “we use her presence tae our advantage. Keith wants our lands through his wife’s ridiculous claim. But his own daughter in our custody? That’s leverage. Real leverage.”
“What are ye suggesting?” Malcolm asked.
“Negotiate.” Daniel moved to the table, spreading out a map of Highland territories.
“Keith MacKenzie has been a thorn in our side since he married Ishbel. Every council meeting, every gathering of lairds, he makes noise about his ‘rightful claim’ tae MacLeod lands. We return his daughter unharmed, in exchange fer his sworn oath tae abandon all claims tae our lands. Make it public. Make it binding.”
Euan felt something loosen in his chest. This was the solution he’d been searching for—one that protected Moyra while securing his clan’s future.
“That could work,” Malcolm said slowly. “If Keith values his daughter more than his ambitions.”
“And if he refuses?” Fergus challenged.
“Then we’ll have our answer about what kind of man Keith MacKenzie truly is,” Daniel replied. “And we’ll know tae prepare fer war.”
Silence fell over the chamber. Through the window, Euan could see servants going about their morning tasks, guards changing shifts, the normal rhythm of castle life continuing as if his world hadn’t tilted on its axis the moment he’d found that woman in a dungeon cell.
“I say we make the offer,” Euan said, his decision crystallizing. “Return her in exchange fer his oath. But we dae it publicly, with witnesses. Make him swear before other lairds he’ll abandon his claims.”
“Aye,” Malcolm agreed. “That’s the smart play.”
Around the table, heads nodded.
“Very well.” Euan moved to his desk, pulling out parchment and ink. “I’ll draft the letter meself. It needs tae be clear. Nay threats, nay demands that could be twisted against us later. Just the facts and our terms.”
They spent the next hour crafting the letter—every word debated, every phrase examined for potential misinterpretation. By the time they finished, the sun had climbed higher in the sky, and Euan’s hand ached from writing and rewriting.
Laird Keith MacKenzie,
During a recent raid on Norham Castle, we discovered yer daughter, Lady Moyra MacKenzie, imprisoned in their dungeons. She has been brought tae Dunvegan Castle, where she is being treated with the honor and respect due her station.
We offer her safe return tae ye, contingent upon yer sworn oath—made publicly afore witnesses—tae abandon all claims tae MacLeod lands through yer marriage tae Ishbel. This oath must be binding and witnessed by at least three other Highland lairds.
Lady Moyra remains our guest until such time as this matter is resolved. She will come tae nay harm while under our protection.
We expect an answer within a fortnight.
Euan MacLeod, Laird of Clan MacLeod
“It’s done.” Euan set down the quill, staring at the words that would determine Moyra’s fate. “Niall, see that this is sent today. Use our fastest rider.”
The group began to disperse, and Euan felt the weight on his shoulders ease slightly. He’d done what was right—for his clan, and for Moyra.
Now he just had to tell her.