Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
The letter arrived on the fifth day after Euan had sent his missive to Keith MacKenzie.
Euan stood in his office, the morning sun casting long shadows across stone walls, and stared at the broken seal in his hand. The MacKenzie crest mocked him from the parchment—that proud stag that represented a clan whose laird had just proven himself lower than the mud beneath Euan’s boots.
His hands trembled as he read the words again, though fury rather than shock fueled the reaction. Each carefully crafted sentence was a masterpiece of cruelty disguised as pragmatism.
Euan’s fist slammed into the desk hard enough to rattle the inkwell. The sound echoed through the chamber like a gunshot, and somewhere outside his door, he heard footsteps pause before hurrying away.
Good. Let them spread word that their laird was in a black mood. It would save him the trouble of explaining later why he might put his fist through Keith MacKenzie’s face if the bastard ever showed his cowardly features within Dunvegan’s walls.
He read the letter a third time, bile rising in his throat.
Not one word of concern for Moyra’s welfare.
Not one question about her treatment or condition.
Just cold calculation wrapped in threats—any harm that befalls a MacKenzie under yer roof will be answered in kind—as if Keith actually cared what happened to the daughter he’d abandoned.
The daughter he’d deliberately sent to rot in an English dungeon.
Because that’s what this was. Euan saw it now with perfect clarity. The timing too convenient, the English soldiers too prepared, Keith’s complete lack of surprise or outrage at the news. He’d known exactly where Moyra was. Had probably arranged her imprisonment himself.
And now he was threatening to use her as a martyr if Euan caused her any harm.
The sheer audacity of it made his blood boil.
A knock at the door interrupted his spiraling fury. “Enter.”
Niall stepped inside, took one look at Euan’s expression, and whistled low. “That bad?”
“Worse.” Euan thrust the letter at him. “Read it yerself.”
He watched his friend’s face darken as he scanned the contents, saw the moment comprehension struck like a physical blow. Niall’s jaw clenched, and when he looked up, his brown eyes held the same cold rage Euan felt burning through his own chest.
“The bastard,” Niall breathed. “He’s threatening to use her death as justification fer war while simultaneously claiming she’s worthless to him.”
“Aye.” Euan moved to the window, needing the fresh air and open sky to keep from punching something. “He wants me tae either send her back so he can dispose of her quietly or keep her here indefinitely while he spreads word that I’m holding a helpless woman hostage.”
“And if ye accidentally let harm come to her—”
“Then he has his excuse tae rally other clans against us. A martyr tae MacKenzie honor, proof of MacLeod brutality.” Euan’s laugh held no humor. “It’s brilliant, really. Despicable, but brilliant.”
“What will ye tell her?”
The question hit like a blade between his ribs. Moyra, who still harbored some fragile hope that her father might want her back, who’d stood on the battlements five nights ago and smiled at the stars like they were gifts he’d given her instead of borrowed moments of freedom.
How did he tell her that her own father had cast her aside like rubbish?
“I dinnae ken,” he admitted. “But I need tae call the Council first. This affects more than just her fate.”
The council chamber felt smaller than usual with eight men packed around the ancient oak table, all of them radiating tension that matched Euan’s own. He’d called them together within an hour of receiving Keith’s letter, knowing this decision couldn’t be made alone.
“Let me understand this clearly.” Malcolm, his oldest councilor, leaned forward with narrowed eyes. “Keith MacKenzie has refused yer offer and essentially told ye tae dispose of his daughter as ye see fit?”
“While threatening war if any harm befalls her,” Euan added grimly. “He wants her gone but needs her death—if it comes to that—to serve his purposes.”
“Then send her back.” Fergus, his master-at-arms, spoke with the blunt pragmatism of a career soldier. “Drop her at MacKenzie’s gates and we wash our hands of the entire mess.”
“Nay.” The word came out sharper than Euan intended. “I’ll nae send her back tae a man who’s proven he views her as disposable. She’ll be dead within a month, and Keith will find a way tae blame us fer it.”
“So we’re tae keep feeding and housing a prisoner who brings us naething but trouble?” Another voice from down the table came. “Every day she’s here is another day Keith can use against us.”
“She’s nae trouble—”
“She’s Keith MacKenzie’s daughter,” Malcolm cut in, his weathered face grim.
“Her very existence under our roof is trouble, regardless of whether she means tae be. The other clans are already whispering. Some think ye’ve taken a fancy tae the lass.
Others believe it’s proof of MacLeod weakness, that we cannae make hard decisions when needed. ”
The accusation made Euan’s jaw clench. “I’m not keeping her here because of any—”
“Aren’t ye?” Fergus studied him with uncomfortably perceptive eyes. “Because from where I’m sitting, ye’ve given her chambers befitting an honored guest, allowed her freedom tae roam the castle, even taken her tae the battlements at night. That daesnae sound like a prisoner tae me.”
Heat crept up the back of Euan’s neck, but he forced his voice to remain level. “As is appropriate fer someone of her station.”
“Aye, appropriate,” Fergus agreed. “But some might wonder if there’s more tae it than duty.”
Euan’s jaw tightened. “What are ye suggesting?”
“Naething untoward, me laird.” Malcolm said quickly. “Only that we need tae be clear on our position. Is she a prisoner? A guest? A potential ally? The clan needs tae understand how tae treat her—and what our endgame is.”
“The endgame is her faither’s response tae our letter,” Euan said firmly. “Until then, she’s under me protection. That’s all anyone needs tae ken.”
“And if Keith refuses?” Daniel asked quietly. “What then?”
The blunt inquiry hung in the air like smoke. Around the table, eight pairs of eyes fixed on Euan with varying degrees of curiosity, concern, and calculation.
“Then we’ll decide our next move as a Council,” Euan said. “As we always have.”
“I have a suggestion.” Daniel spoke up from the far end of the table. “One that might solve multiple problems at once, should Keith prove as unreasonable as we suspect.”
“I’m listening.”
“Marry her.”
The words fell like stones into still water, sending ripples of shock around the chamber. Even Niall, who rarely showed surprise, straightened in his chair.
“Ye cannae be serious,” Euan growled.
“I’m entirely serious.” Daniel stood, moving to the map of Highland territories that hung on the wall.
“Consider the advantages. Keith claims rights tae MacLeod lands through his marriage tae Ishbel. Her blood tie is weak at best, but it gives him legal standing tae make noise at every council gathering.”
“How daes marrying his cast-off daughter help?”
“Because it makes his claim tae our lands through Ishbel redundant.” Daniel’s finger traced the border between MacKenzie and MacLeod territories.
“If ye marry Lady Moyra, ye create a direct alliance between our clans. In the eyes of the king and the other lairds, any claim Keith might make through Ishbel becomes moot—he already has a daughter married tae the MacLeod laird. He’d look like a greedy fool fer pushing fer more. ”
Malcolm nodded slowly. “It would also prevent him from using her death as justification fer war. She’d be under MacLeod protection as yer wife, nae yer prisoner. Any harm that befell her would reflect on him as her faither, nae on us as her captors.”
“And it would secure an alliance with those MacKenzie clan members who still remember Moyra’s maither fondly,” another councilor added. “Nae all of Keith’s people support his ambitions. A marriage might give them someone else tae rally behind.”
The strategy made cold, perfect sense. Euan could see it laid out like a chess board—each move calculated to maximize advantage while minimizing risk. But the image of Moyra’s face when he’d promised she wouldn’t be treated as a prisoner rose unbidden in his mind.
Was forcing her into marriage any different than what her father had done?
“She’d never agree,” Euan said flatly. “Ye’re suggesting I force a woman who’s already been imprisoned and betrayed tae marry a man from a clan that’s been her family’s enemy fer generations.”
“She daesnae have tae agree.” Fergus’s voice was matter-of-fact. “She’s our prisoner, whatever pretty name we put on it. We have every right tae arrange a marriage that serves our clan’s interests.”
“Nay.” The word came out hard as iron. “I’ll nae force any woman tae marry against her will. Nae fer politics, nae fer land, nae fer anything.”
“Even if it prevents war?” Malcolm asked quietly. “Even if it’s the only way tae protect both her and our clan?”
The question struck at the heart of his dilemma.
As a man, he found the idea of forcing Moyra into marriage abhorrent.
But as a laird responsible for hundreds of lives—as the man who’d sworn to protect his people the way his father had tried to protect him at Loch Eilein—could he afford such scruples?
“The lairds of the Loch Eilein Covenant would support this,” Daniel added. “A marriage strengthens all our positions. It shows we’re willing tae seek peace through alliance rather than force. And it removes one of Keith’s most potent tools against us.”
“It also removes any claim he has tae use her as a martyr,” Malcolm said. “If she’s yer wife and something happens tae her, the blame falls on ye as a married couple, nae on us as her captors.”
Around the table, heads nodded in agreement. Even Niall looked troubled but resigned, as if he could see no better option.
Euan turned to the window, staring out at courtyard stones where he’d first carried Moyra through the gates. She’d been so light in his arms, so fragile after months of imprisonment. And she’d trusted him—or at least wanted to trust him—when he’d promised she’d be treated with honor.
How did he break that trust by forcing her into a marriage neither of them wanted?
“I need time tae think,” he said finally. “Ye’ve given me much tae consider, but I’ll nae make this decision rashly.”
“Time is a luxury we may nae have.” Malcolm’s voice carried warning. “Every day she remains here unmarried, Keith can use that against us. And if word spreads of his letter, of how he’s abandoned her—”
“Then let it spread.” Euan turned from the window, his decision crystallizing even as he spoke.
“Let every clan in the Highlands ken what kind of faither Keith MacKenzie is. How he sent his daughter tae an English dungeon and then refused tae negotiate fer her return. That daesnae make us look weak—it makes him look monstrous.”
“And when he uses that tae paint himself as a victim?” Fergus challenged. “When he claims we’re spreading lies tae justify holding his daughter hostage?”
“Then we produce proof. The letter itself. The testimony of those who saw Moyra’s condition when we found her.” Euan’s jaw set. “I’ll nae make decisions based on fear of what Keith might say. He’s already proven himself a liar and a coward. Let him add ‘terrible faither’ tae that list.”
The councilors exchanged glances, clearly uncertain about his resolve. Finally, Malcolm spoke.
“We’ll support whatever decision ye make, my laird.
But consider this—sometimes the kindest thing we can do fer someone is make the hard choice they cannae make fer themselves.
Lady Moyra has no future with her father.
No prospects fer a decent marriage now that she’s been imprisoned and cast off.
But as yer wife, she’d have security. Protection.
Status. It might nae be the romantic match she dreamed of, but it would be better than anything else her life currently offers. ”
The words settled over Euan like weights. Because Malcolm was right—what future did Moyra have now? Her father had made it clear she meant nothing to him. No other clan would want her after months in an English dungeon, tainted by captivity and scandal.
But marriage to him? At least that offered safety. A position of honor instead of shame.
Even if she hated him for it.
“I’ll consider everything ye’ve said,” Euan repeated, his voice carrying the finality that meant the discussion was over. “But I’ll make nay promises. Dismissed.”
The councilors filed out, some looking satisfied, others troubled. Only Niall remained, lingering by the door with an expression Euan knew well—his friend wanted to say something but was weighing whether it would help or hinder.
“Say it,” Euan growled.
“The marriage could work,” Niall said carefully. “Nae just politically—thought that’s reason enough. But fer her too. She has nay prospects now. As yer wife, she’d have protection, status, a real life instead of—”
“Instead of what? Another cage?” Euan cut him off sharply. “Ye think I dinnae see that? Ye think I havenae thought about every angle of this?”
Niall raised his hands. “I’m only saying—”
“I ken what ye’re saying.” Euan moved to the window, staring out at the darkening courtyard. “And the Council’s not wrong about the advantages. But I’ll nae force her intae it. Nae like that.”
“Then what will ye dae?”
“I’ll find another way.” His jaw set with determination. “There has tae be something between sending her back tae Keith and forcing her tae marry me. Some path that daesnae require her tae choose between two different prisons.”
“And if there isnae?” Niall’s voice was gentle. “If Keith refuses and war comes anyway?”
“Then I’ll deal with that when it happens.” Euan turned from the window. “But I won’t make decisions about her future without giving her voice in it. That’s where her father failed—treating her like a pawn instead of a person. I’ll nae repeat his mistakes.”
“All right.” Niall moved toward the door. “But Euan? Sometimes the kindest thing we can dae is make hard choices before circumstances make them fer us.”
He left before Euan could respond, the heavy door closing with a soft thud that echoed through the empty chamber.
Euan returned to the window, Keith’s letter still clutched in one hand. Outside, servants went about their tasks, guards patrolled the walls, and somewhere in the east tower, Moyra MacKenzie probably sat by her own window, watching the sea and wondering what would become of her.
He would not send her back to that monster. And he would not force her into marriage.
He would protect her somehow, even if he hadn’t yet figured out how.