Page 91 of The Laird's Vengeful Desire
“Gather the warriors. Full battle gear. We ride at nightfall.”
“How many, me laird?”
“All of them.” Ian’s smile was as sharp as a dirk and twice as dangerous. “Every last sword we can muster. We’re goin’ tae show MacPherson what happens when he steals from Clan Wallace.”
Killian’s hard face split into a grin that held no warmth, “Aye, me laird. It will be me pleasure.”
As Killian strode away, already shouting orders to the men, Tristan stepped closer once more, his voice urgent. “Me laird, ye have tae listen tae reason. The king’s letter specifically warned against military action. If ye march intae MacPherson territory with an army–”
“Then what?” Ian whirled around, the full force of his frustration finally boiling over. “Ye think I should just… leave her there? Ye think I should sit idly in me solar, drinkin’ wine and playin’ politics while that despicable monster who calls himself me cousin daes God kens what tae the woman I love?”
The admission quieted the air around them, settling like the rumble of thunder before a storm. Tristan’s eyes widened slightly – it was after all the first time Ian had spoken the word aloud, though everyone in the castle suspected the truth.
“Ye… love her.” Tristan said quietly.
“Aye.” The word came out rough, torn from somewhere deep in Ian’s chest. “I dae. More than me own life, and much more than me fear of the king’s displeasure. And I’ll be damned if I let Lachlan MacPherson destroy her because I was too much a coward tae act.”
“But if the Crown declares ye in rebellion–”
“Then so be it.” Ian’s voice carried the weight of absolute decision. “Some things are worth more than a king’s approval, Tristan. Some things are worth everythin’.”
Around them, Castle Wallace had erupted into controlled chaos as word spread. Warriors emerged from barracks and training yards, their faces grim with purpose. The ring of steel filled the air as weapons were sharpened, armor was checked and horses were saddled.
Young Callum appeared at Ian’s elbow, his face flushed with excitement and determination. “Me laird, the men are askin’ – dae we take prisoners?”
Ian’s smile was frosty and sharp. “Only if they can tell us where tae find Lady Rhona. Anyone who stands between us and her will taste Wallace steel.”
“Understood, me laird.”
“MacPherson’s camp is in the disputed borderlands, I’d wager me last coin ‘tis probably in that valley near Loch Awe, where hethinks he’s safe from royal interference.” Ian’s mind was already racing through tactical possibilities. “We’ll approach from the north, use the high ground tae our advantage. Hit them fast and hard before they can organize a proper defense.”
“What about sentries?”
“Killan, ye ken those lands better than any man alive. Ye handle the scouts.” Ian’s eyes held the cold gleam of a predator scenting blood. “By the time Lachlan realizes we’re there, it’ll be too late.”
“And if it’s a t trap? If he’s expectin’ ye tae come after her?”
Ian’s hand moved to his sword hilt, his fingers closing around the familiar grip with such intensity that his knuckles turned bright white. “Then he’ll learn that some traps catch more than the hunter bargained fer.”
A commotion near the gates caught his attention. A rider was approaching at full gallop, his horse lathered with sweat, dust coating his clothes. One of the scouts Ian had deployed just after Rhona had been taken, clearly bearing news that could not wait for normal channels.
“Me laird!” the man called out as he reigned his mount to a stop. “Word from the borderlands! MacPherson’s moved his camp from Loch Awe. He’s fortyifin’ a position near the old stone circle, three hours’ hard ride from here.”
Clever bastard.
The stone circle was on defensible ground, surrounded by rough terrain that would make a cavalry charge difficult. But it also had limited escape routes, which could work in their favor.
“How many men?”
“Hard tae say fer certain, me laird, but I counted at least sixty. Maybe more hidin’ in the woods.”
“And Lady Rhona?”
“She’s there, me laird. Saw her bein’ moved intae a tent near the edge of the camp. She… she looked unharmed, but angry as a wildcat.”
Relief flooded through Ian so powerfully his knees nearly buckled.
She’s alive. She’s fightin’ back.
