Page 51 of Only a Highlander Will Do

Orrick caught Tormod’s gaze across the fire. “We are on our homeland, the land of our ancestors, with our clan and allies,” he said, knowing as he always did where Tormod’s thoughts had gone. “The outcome will be different.”

“I pray you are right.” Tormod looked at the faces of the men gathered around. In their gazes he saw confidence, not fear. He shook off his memories of the past and focused on the here and now. “Our goal is not that of annihilation. We are here as a show of force and to retrieve Rowena MacLeod along with Agnes and James MacDonald who are also in danger for helping our sister.”

“How will we do it?” one of the men opposite Tormod asked.

“I was hoping to avoid a direct attack,” Tormod said. “Our numbers would be better used to create a battle outside the walls, then sneak inside somehow with a smaller contingent of men.”

“A fortified manor house should not be too difficult to overwhelm. We could break through the walls and simply sneak inside,” Graeme offered.

“How do we break through the walls?” Alastair asked.

One of the men from the MacKinnons stood. “We have everything we need here in the nearby woods to build a trebuchet. With that we could break through the outer walls.”

Alastair shook his head. “We don’t have time to build a trebuchet. Besides, we outnumber them ten to one.”

“A Trojan Horse.” A female voice cut through all the others.

When silence fell, Fiona repeated, “What we need is a Trojan Horse, the ploy used by the Greeks to enter the city of Troy.”

“If we don’t have time to build a trebuchet, why would we have time to build that?” the MacKinnon who’d suggested the war machine asked.

“We don’t need to build anything.” Fiona stood. “I shall be the Trojan Horse.”

Murmurs arose from the men. Tormod silenced them with a lift of his hand, even though the very idea made him more than a little uneasy. “Let her continue.”

“You’ll all hide against the manor house’s protective wall or in places where you cannot be seen by the sentries while we still have the cover of dawn. I’ll approach the gates and demand to see Alex MacDonald, saying I’m ready to trade places with Rowena. I will be his willing captive if only he would let her go. From what I’ve seen of Alex MacDonald, he’ll think he can take us both and will open the gates. That’s when you attack.”

“Nay,” Tormod said with force. “Too many things can go wrong. I’ll not put you in danger like that again.”

“I’m putting myself in danger.” Fiona’s tone was suddenly fierce. “I may not be able to fight like any of you, but I’m strong enough to do this one thing.”

Tormod softened his voice. “I know you’re strong, Fiona.”

“Then let me do this.”

“It might work,” Graeme acknowledged. “Flat up against the walls, no one should see us. Then when the gate opens, we can overwhelm those inside. Fiona will be safe. None of us will be too far from her at any given time.”

Tormod was still adamantly opposed to placing Fiona in that kind of danger, when Alastair turned to the men and asked, “Is this a plan we can agree to?”

A hearty cheer of “aye” rose from the men. Fiona met Tormod’s gaze. “You’re always asking me to trust you. For once, please trust me on this. It’ll work to get you all inside so we can free your sister.”

Tormod inclined his head. The men had already decided her plan was a good one. He could say nothing to counter that argument. But nothing said he couldn’t go to extraordinary means to keep her safe regardless. In keeping with that decision, he moved back to his horse, re-emerging with a dagger he had in his saddlebag.

He handed the sheathed blade to Fiona. “Take this. Promise me you’ll wear it as we proceed with this plan.”

Her eyes glittered as she accepted the weapon. “Will you show me how to wield it?” She pulled the weapon from its sheath and held it up.

For a moment, Tormod’s breath stilled. His gaze fixed on the blade. A memory erupted in his mind of that same dagger protruding from his chest in his dream. A chill slithered down his spine as he brought his hand to his chest. Would Fiona be the one to kill him as her father had demanded? He swallowed against a rise of bile in his throat.

“Tormod, what is wrong?” Fiona’s voice pierced through the haze that had fallen around him, bringing him back to the moment. True concern reflected in her eyes.

“Just a momentary lapse.” He tried to force the thoughts away. Fiona would never take his life. Would she?

“Hold the hilt firmly,” he instructed, showing her how to hold the blade. He released her, allowing her to try it on her own.

The dagger wobbled in her hand due to her inexperience. “Perhaps it is better if I do not have a weapon.” Her brows furrowed. “Alex would never allow me near him with a blade anyway, at least not one he can see.” She held the dagger back out to him. “I would accept your sgian-dubh. That I can hide on my person and use should the need arise.”

Relief immediately washed over Tormod as he took back his dagger and offered Fiona his sgian-dubh instead. He had better keep his dagger close to him during this conflict if he didn’t want his exhausted imaginings to fulfil themselves.