Page 8 of The Highlander’s Defiant Bride

Cameron shook his head as his gaze slid back to the women who were now washing his father’s body before wrapping the patriarch in a linen shroud. “Let us give Gavan a few days to work his magic. I would rather not go back into war with the Mackenzies if Gavan can do something to prevent it.”

“I understand that you want peace, but you also said you would strike if necessary. They did kill Da. That deserves retribution.” Kenzie pierced Cameron with his gaze.

His youngest brother was always ready to head into battle. No matter the consequences.

“We already discussed this. We need to regroup, to think, and come up with a plan of action that will communicate not only our displeasure but our strength. As a member of this clan, you will follow my orders now that Da is gone.” Cameron balled his hands into fists.

The code of the Highlanders demanded some sort of response to the loss of their chief. Yet, instead of a need for justice, Cameron only felt the weight of an unwelcome future pressing upon him. He was now the laird of his clan, betrothed to a stranger, and expected to make war when all he wanted was peace.

Kenzie pressed his mouth into a thin line, holding back any further response until he finally shook his head as his ire faded. “Then what is your first order as our new chief?”

“Contact Reverend Collus at Kiltearn and see to the arrangements for Da’s burial in three days.” Cameron glanced at his father’s body.

The women had wrapped him and had placed his sword atop his body. A fitting interment for the once vibrant and sometimes brutal man he used to be. There was also no denying that Cameron was now the chief of the Munros, even without the clan pledging their lives to him yet.

“My second order is for the funeral bunting to be laid out for the next month at a minimum. Only then will we start thinking about a wedding.”

“Are you trying to tempt Da coming back to us to make certain you do as he wanted?” Kenzie said with a bitter grin.

Cameron stared hard at Kenzie.

If their father haunted them because Cameron disobeyed his father’s final command, so be it. “I will marry the girl when I am ready.”

Chapter Three

Wednesday, April 11th, 1716

The woodlands near Foulis Castle

Destiny braced herself against the side of the carriage as it rumbled over the ruts in the road from the previous hard winter. The two passengers had been travelling for three days. Across from her, Sorcha appeared pale as she clutched the edge of the leather seat. Days of rapid travel had taken a toll on her usually unshakeable friend.

Sorcha’s misery-filled gaze connected with Destiny’s as she tried to force a smile. “He finally sent for you.”

“I would have been happier if he had never done so,” Destiny replied, not yet willing to forgive the man.

She did not want to marry Cameron Munro for many reasons. That he had waited six months to send for her was just one more personality defect to add to the list of growing reasons for her dislike of the Highlander. He had sent a carriage, coachman, and two guardsmen to protect her on the three-day journey from Clyth Castle to Foulis Castle. Her father, eager to finally be rid of her, had not sent her with any sort of dowry, unless one counted the brass Highland belted pistol loaded with one ball and powder. He claimed she would be safe on her journey, but the pistol sitting on the bench next to her said otherwise.

“I cannot imagine my life will improve once we reach our destination.”

“Nay, Destiny,” Sorcha said, her voice breaking as the carriage hit yet another rut. When the rocking subsided, she continued, “It is good you are away from your father. His treatment of you over the past six months has been deplorable while you waited for word from your betrothed.”

Destiny’s gaze slid from the pistol to her friend. “And you believe the welcome I will receive at the hands of the butcher will be any better?”

Sorcha drew a long, slow breath as the road levelled out. “I am hopeful.”

Destiny stared out the window of the carriage at the thin pine trees of Tarlogie Wood on either side of the well-travelled road between Wick and Evanton. Closer to sunset, they would finally reach their destination. The journey would have been intolerable if Sorcha had not come along. And for her kindness, Destiny had shown her nothing but the worst part of herself.

With a sigh, she turned her gaze back to Sorcha. “Forgive me, Sorcha, for my foul mood. You deserve so much better from me for all you are doing, all you are risking by escorting me to Foulis.”

A genuine smile came to Sorcha’s lips. “You would do nothing less for me. Even though we both knew this day would come, it is never easy to marry a stranger. I know what that is like,” she said, speaking of her own brief marriage. “Until we know otherwise, I choose to believe Cameron Munro is kinder than his reputation allows.”

Despite the terror that had tightened Destiny’s chest since she had learned of her betrothal, she smiled. “Let us hope that is true.” Sorcha was always the optimist.

“Down!” The shout rang out, harsh, urgent, close enough to chill Destiny’s blood, and was followed instantly by a horse’s terrified neigh. The carriage lurched to a sudden stop, throwing Destiny to her knees on the floor.

“What is it?” Sorcha leaned forward and poked her head out of the carriage window. The tip of an arrow pierced the wood beside her head. Sorcha shrieked and jerked back.

Crouched on the floor of the carriage still, Destiny looked up at the arrow. “What did you see?” She could hear shouts, metal clashing against metal, and the frightened shrieks of the horses.