Chapter Six #2
Destiny felt the weight of that single admission. He had already counted the cost.
“We hold the prisoner until he can travel,” Cameron repeated. “If he dies on the road, we gain nothing but suspicion. He must be returned whole, or not at all.”
“That gives them time,” Fergus said bluntly. “Too much time.”
Cameron’s jaw tightened. “Aye. Which is why we must use it better than they will.”
Destiny felt the familiar tightening in her chest, the sense that something was missing, that the plan, strong as it was, still left them exposed.
She told herself to remain quiet. To observe, as Cameron intended.
But as the debate circled, blood or ransom, threat or bargain, an idea took root in her mind, small but insistent.
She bit her lip, fighting it back. She was not meant to speak. She was here to learn.
And yet . . .
Her father’s lessons came back to her. Clan alliances, the weight of honour, the value of appearances. If she said nothing, she was the silent bride at her husband’s side. If she spoke wrongly, she was a fool. But if she was right . . .
She drew in a careful breath. “Then do not let them believe we are waiting.”
The room stilled.
“If the Mackenzies think we intend to keep their son,” she continued carefully, “they will attack to reclaim him. If they think we mean to kill him, they will attack for vengeance.” She met Cameron’s gaze, her pulse steadying beneath his attention.
“But if they believe we mean to send him back, and soon, they must hesitate. Even a proud laird will pause before risking his son’s life by striking first.”
“And how do you propose we convince them of that?” Alastair demanded.
Destiny swallowed. “Send word. Not a threat. Not terms. Only notice.” She chose her words with care. “Tell them their son lives. Tell them he is wounded but tended. Tell them he will be returned under truce once he is strong enough to ride.”
A low rumble moved through the room.
“They may not believe us,” Gavan muttered.
“They will,” Cameron said quietly, understanding dawning in his eyes. “Because if they strike while their son is in our care, every clan will know who broke faith first.”
He leaned forward, the decision settling into place. “We will send a messenger by nightfall. Neutral ground. No boasting. No demands.” His gaze swept the table. “If the Mackenzies attack before he is returned, they do so knowing their son’s life hangs in the balance of their own choosing.”
The room fell silent, not with doubt, but with grim acceptance.
“That buys us time,” Fergus said slowly. “Not safety. But time.”
“Time is all peace ever asks for,” Cameron replied.
There was grumbling, but the men bowed to Cameron’s decision. The meeting carried on, shifting to talk of borders and patrols, but Destiny barely heard it. She froze, warmth blooming through her chest.
For the first time since her arrival, she felt not like a pawn, but like a woman whose words carried weight. And it was Cameron, the man she had been forced to wed, the man she had sworn to resist, who had given her that place.
When the council eventually broke, Destiny remained seated, her heart still pounding, not with fear now, but with the weight of what she had stepped into.
Cameron rose and passed behind her chair, pausing just long enough to murmur, “You saw the danger before they named it.”
She looked up, startled.
“And you named the answer,” he added quietly. “You spoke well, wife.”
The words sent a flush up her throat. She told herself it was only surprise. But deep down, it was more. It was the warmth of being seen, respected. And that, she feared, was more dangerous than attraction.
The council chamber emptied, leaving only echoes of boots on stone. Destiny lingered near the wall, her hands clasped tight to keep them from trembling. She should have slipped away with the others, but something kept her rooted.
Cameron remained at the head of the table, stacking parchments and reports, the set of his shoulders relaxed now that the meeting was done. He looked utterly at ease in this room of power, and she hated how much she admired it.
At last, she found her voice. “Why did you do that?”
He glanced up, one brow lifting. “Do what?”
“You agreed with me. In front of them.” Her words tumbled out sharper than she had intended. “You made me part of the decision. You made me . . . visible.”
He studied her, dark eyes searching her face. “Because you were right.”
She blinked, stunned. “You could have said the same in your own words. No one would have questioned you.”
“True,” he allowed, a faint curve tugging at his mouth. “But they will learn faster to trust you if they hear the sense from your lips. A laird’s wife is not only for show, Destiny. She must stand beside him, not behind.”
Her chest tightened, heat rushing to her cheeks. Beside him. Not a pawn. Not a debt. Not a body in a bed. A partner. The word pulsed through her, foreign and dizzying.
“You do not know me,” she whispered.
“I know enough.” His gaze was steady, unflinching. “You have a mind sharp as any blade. And you have the courage to speak, though you fear to be heard. I would be a fool to silence that.”
Her throat went dry. In the past, her father met her ideas with suspicion, control, even scorn. But never respect. And certainly not the faint warmth that flickered in his voice when he said her name.
She drew in a shaky breath, trying to hide the way her heart raced. “Do not think me flattered. I spoke only what was just.”
Cameron stepped closer, not so near as to touch, but enough that the heat of him wrapped around her. “And that,” he said softly, “is why I listened and why a messenger has been sent to the Mackenzies this very day.”
Destiny’s breath caught. She forced herself to hold his gaze, though it made her chest ache. The air between them hummed with something she could not name, something she did not want to name.
She turned abruptly, gathering her skirts. “Respect will not change what this marriage is.”
“Perhaps not,” he said behind her, his voice low and calm. “But it may change what it becomes.”
The words chased her all the way back to her chamber, warming her skin, unsettling her heart. Destiny feared he was right. She wanted their marriage to be more than a blending of clans and a potential hope for peace with the Mackenzies. She wanted so much more.