Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 32223 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 161(@200wpm)___ 129(@250wpm)___ 107(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32223 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 161(@200wpm)___ 129(@250wpm)___ 107(@300wpm)
“The coast,” Hamish adds, turning away from the guard he was talking to, his face grim. “And Lachlan, they’ve chained your stables.”
A low growl simmers in my throat. “What?”
“They brought chains,” Hamish spits, his face almost as furious as mine. “And they chained up your horses, or your men would already be in pursuit. Both of your blacksmiths are already at work trying to break them free. We can be on them soon.”
“They’ll make it to the shore before us.”
“Aye,” Callum growls. “But we’ll be close behind. We just need—”
“You need a boat.”
Tor steps forward, his arms crossed over his huge chest, one hand stroking his beard.
“And you need a fucking fast boat, with men who know how to sail it.”
A thin smile creeps over his face.
“Good thing you’re friends with some bloodthirsty Vikings, now isn’t it?”
I nod, putting my hand out and shaking his firmly.
“Aye and thank you.”
“My pleasure, highlander,” Tor growls. “I’ll use one of your riders as soon as the horses are freed to send word ahead to my men—”
“My lord! We’ve caught one! His horse stumbled and threw him, not far from the walls.”
We whirl as three guards haul a struggling, swearing man in black leather out and toss him down before me. His arms and legs are in irons, and he moans pathetically as he falls to the ground at my feet.
“Speak.”
My voice booms across the terrace, and suddenly, there’s silence. The man looks up, and though I catch the tail end of his smugness, when he sees the murder in my eyes, his face pales.
“Lord McDougall, I—”
“Who,” I growl thunderously, and the man trembles.
“Lord Campbell, my lord.”
Seven fucking hells.
Every suspicion I had is suddenly confirmed in one horrible second.
“And they’re taking her to the shore, are they not?”
The man nods eagerly, fear in his eyes.
“And then?”
“My lord—”
“SPEAK!”
“F-France, my lord!”
My eyes slide from the man to my guards.
“Take him to the dungeon along with that witch inside.”
The man screams as my guards haul him away, and I whirl, seeing red as I squeeze my eyes shut and hiss into the darkness of the night.
There’s a hand on my shoulder, and I whirl, coming face to face with Callum.
“I’m going to ask you as a friend, Lachlan,” he says quietly. “Without judgement, and without agenda.”
I nod.
“Marrying Iona isn’t about your lands, or about politics, is it? Perhaps a little but not entirely, I mean.”
My lips thin, my jaw grinding. And slowly, I nod.
“It isn’t,” I growl quietly. “She’s…” I shake my head. “She’s everything to me, Callum.”
He nods grimly, glancing at Hamish and Tor before turning back to face me.
“Then you can be damn sure we’re getting her back, Lachlan.”
The other two nod solemnly, and Callum clears his throat as he steps closer, putting a hand on my shoulder.
“You should tell Catriona,” he says quietly. “She deserves to know the truth.”
“Aye,” I growl, nodding my head in agreement. “She does.”
Callum gestures with his head back inside the castle.
“Give me a minute?”
“Of course, my friend,” he nods.
I step past them, striding inside to the banquet hall within, where a very shaken Catriona, Una, and Rhona, are being tended to by some of the ladies in waiting—shaken, scared, but furious as well.
…Good, strong Scottish lasses, the lot of them, I think with a grim smile of pride as my eyes land on my daughter. I step towards her, and she jumps to her feet as she rushes into me, hugging me fiercely.
“There, there,” I growl softly, pulling her tight to me. “We’re going to get her back; I swear to you. It was Lord Campbell’s men?”
“And he himself,” she hisses angrily. “Dad, I wanted to fight them—”
“And I’m goddamn glad you did not,” I mutter.
“Well, I would have, but they had a blade to her throat, and… and…”
Her face crumples and I hug her close.
“They’re readying the horses now, and then we ride. The man we caught claims they’re trying to take her back to France—”
“France?! Dad, they’ll get to their boats before we can—”
“And Viking boats are far, far faster,” I growl.
Catriona nods, her eyes fierce and grim.
“Catriona, I…” I frown, my hands on her arms as I search for the words to tell her the truth. Because it’s time, and because she deserves to know, even if she hates me for it.
“Sweetheart, I—”
“You love her, don’t you?”
Her words are quiet, her face neutral as she meets my eyes. And slowly, I nod.
“Aye, daughter,” I say softly, nodding. “Aye, I do.”
“I mean you love her like that.”
“Yes.”
Cat looks away for a moment, nodding slowly.
“Catriona, I know she’s your friend, and I never wanted to drive a wedge between you or hurt you, or—”
“Dad.”
I stop, blinking and realizing she’s smiling quietly at me.
“Does she make you happy?”
I nod. “She does. Happy unlike anything I’ve known aside from you and the day you were born.”