Page 6 of The Highlander’s Defiant Bride

His father’s hand found his, cold and shaking. “Dying . . . Cameron . . . marry. It is arranged.”

Cameron froze. “What?”

Robert’s lips trembled, blood bubbling between his teeth. “Destiny Gunn . . . betrothed to you. Better for our clan. Where war failed me . . . diplomacy might aid you.”

The words struck harder than any sword. Destiny Gunn. A name his father had never spoken, a face Cameron could not conjure, and yet she was now part of his father’s dying wish, the last command of a man he had both loved and feared.

“Why? What can the Gunns bring to us through this marriage?”

“Gunn has ties . . . to the Mackenzies. It might help . . . bring peace. Also need their land . . . secure our position . . . with the other Highland clans.”

“Da, please . . .”

But Robert was already slipping away. His gaze darted towards Gavan and Kenzie, who stood guard beside them, blades still drawn. To Gavan he said, “Help your brother lead . . . serve the government . . . that is our future . . . Scotland’s future . . .” His breath came shorter. He turned to Kenzie. “Avenge me. Execute our enemies.”

With his final words of vengeance, Robert’s body shuddered once, then went still.

Cameron’s breath hitched. Around him, their clansmen protected them, fighting off those who would intrude on this moment. The battlefield noise fell away until all he could hear was the wind keening over the moor. He stared down at the man who had ruled his life and now lay broken at his knees.

Robert Munro, the Butcher of Caithness, was gone. And in his place, the clan’s burden shifted onto Cameron’s shoulders. Cameron had come to accept his father’s ruthlessness. He and his brothers had borne their father’s brutality their whole lives.

He wished the moniker of butcher would have died with his father, but he knew it would not. Cameron was known as a butcher as well. The butcher’s son, he had been called on countless occasions. Now, with the death of his father, the name would continue, and he, Cameron, would be known as the Butcher.

Cameron looked at his brothers, one on his left and one on his right. They were warriors, like their father, and had taken their own share of lives, and now they would share in their father’s sins. Returning his gaze to his father, Cameron pressed his hand to his father’s face, closing his eyes. He wiped his father’s blood from his fingers with his tartan, though it clung like a brand. You are the heir now.

Grief hollowed him, but something harder took root beneath it. A resolve forged in pain. He would not be his father’s shadow. He would lead differently if he had the chance. And as for the girl, Destiny Gunn, he would honour his father’s final wish. But he would deal with her in his own time.

Cameron looked towards the horizon, where the mist was burning away and the field lay strewn with the fallen. “We will keep the clan standing,” he murmured. “But we will do it our way, my brothers.”

The battle still raged as Cameron set his father’s head against the ground and stood. He released the tail of his tartan and drew his dagger, slicing through the woven fabric, creating a length that he then draped over his father’s body. “We will return for him when this battle is done,” Cameron said, then trading his dagger for his sword, he stepped back into the fray. The Munros would win this day or die trying.

*

The journey back to Foulis was a dirge etched in the rhythm of footsteps. Cameron walked on one side of the simple cart, his brother Kenzie on the other as the horse pulled it forward. Seventy of their bravest warriors walked behind them as the cart rolled forward over the slick, wet soil, each rotation of the wheels a mournful reminder of the Battle at Brahan and the great man they had lost, despite winning the conflict.

Laird Robert Munro lay beneath a simple linen shroud, his once-powerful frame now still and silent. Cameron’s hand rested occasionally on the rough wood, as if the touch could offer some comfort to the once-vibrant man. Beside him, Kenzie held his head high, his features reflecting none of his grief. Cameron knew his thoughts should be on avenging his father, but they skittered away from grief and revenge, leaving him only able to ponder how his parent had seemingly manoeuvred him into a marriage not of his own choosing.

Fine cold rain began to fall, beading on their cloaks and chilling them to the bone and making the cart harder to move up the long approach to Foulis Castle. The landscape, once familiar and comforting, seemed to twist itself into a reflection of their sorrow. The rolling hills, usually a bright green, were muted under a darkened sky.

“What will you do now?” Kenzie asked, breaking the silence that had settled between them.

Cameron shrugged. “Become the laird, I suppose.”

“Aye, but what about what Da asked of you? Will you honour his request that you marry?”

“We both know that was not a request.”

“So, you will marry the Gunn girl?”

Cameron closed his eyes for a heartbeat. “We all have our roles to play now that Da is gone. Mine now include laird and husband.”

Kenzie’s gaze narrowed. “I intend to do as Da asked, as well, and seek retribution against the Mackenzies.”

“Not today,” Cameron growled. “We lost seven good men today, including Da. Let us mourn those before we create new widows amongst the clan.”

Kenzie kicked at a pebble, sending it rolling along the dusty track. “Da thought vengeance was necessary,” he murmured. “Brahan. Alness. All of it.”

Cameron did not answer at once.