Page 19 of Highlander’s Captive

“Son, shut yer hole and listen to yer king,” Dougal said.

Craig’s jaw tightened. “Forgive me, sire. Please speak.”

Bruce’s lips spread in a sly smile, and there was something about the expression Craig didn’t like at all.

“How would ye like to take yer revenge on the MacDougalls while weakening them and the Earl of Ross at the same time?”

Craig cocked his head. “Aye, I would like that very much.”

“Then marry the lass.”

Craig’s stomach tensed. “What?”

“Son,” said Dougal Cambel, “’tis a good plan. Take from the MacDougalls their biggest alliance. Get revenge against them not by violence, but by taking away their future. Benefit the cause of the King of Scots.”

But marrying the enemy? The woman whose brother had assaulted and raped Marjorie? The woman whose family had killed Craig’s grandfather, Craig’s cousin Ian, and many more Cambels?

The woman whose blood was saturated with betrayal.

Craig had sworn never to let another MacDougall betray him. And if he married Amy…

A shiver of anticipation went through him at the thought of her naked in his arms. Her soft skin, her lips against his, that red hair spilled against his chest…

What was he doing? If he married a MacDougall, he’d be giving her an invitation to betray him. Even if she was forced to make an oath to be loyal to him as his wife, the marriage vow wouldn’t mean anything to her. She’d be too close. She’d know too much.

This was beyond him.

“Nae, Yer Grace. Forgive me. I canna stand thinking I will need to tie my life to a MacDougall. I am sorry, Yer Grace. We must think of something else.”

Bruce looked long and hard at Craig. “Sometimes personal sacrifices must be made for the good of many.”

“Aye, sire, but I fear ’tis nae sacrifice. ’Tis stepping into a trap.”

Dougal laid his hand on Craig’s shoulder. “Think it over, son. Ye’re a strong man and the man of duty. Ye will do what’s right.”

Craig gave a polite nod while fury boiled in his veins—anger at Bruce and his father for even considering taking a MacDougall into their family.

He turned and walked away, to find Amy MacDougall and ask her everything he needed to know and then lock her up somewhere he’d never have to see her again.

Chapter 6

Amy jerked her elbow from the iron-cast fist of the damned Highlander. He led her through the dark courtyard, illuminated only by the torches. Freezing rain poured, and Amy’s hiking shoes slurped through the mud.

It was one thing to be confined in a room, and another thing altogether to be stuck in this strange, medieval reality. Despite her warm jacket, it was as if the very air pressed on her body from all sides.

“I have nowhere to run away,” she said. “Get your grabby hands off me.”

“Ha! I wilna be fooled by a MacDougall again. Just move yer feet.”

Amy scoffed. Oh, how her hands itched for something heavy to throw at him. They entered the great hall, which was full of people dressed in medieval clothes. She became acutely aware of how her modern jeans and her jacket stood out. The air was stuffy here, smelling of wet wool, woodsmoke, and stew. The wooden floor was dirty with mud. Torches and a fireplace illuminated the hall.

Her stomach growled, and she realized how hungry she was. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast, which must have been ten or twelve hours ago given the darkness outside.

Heads turned in her direction, and she noticed the king and Craig’s father at the farther side of the hall, together with a few other older men, drinking and eating.

Craig led her through the aisle between the tables and benches. Men and more men sat at other tables. She glanced around.

“Why are only men here?” she asked.