Page 30 of The Highlander's Illicit Bride
Dougal finally turned to him and Murdoch saw the pure malice in the man’s eyes. They smoldered with anger and Murdoch understood the source of that rage burning inside of him. It wasn’t necessarily that he was thrilled at the prospect of marrying Isolde, after all this was an alliance for Dougal too. What angered him so was the fact that Isolde had run away, essentially rejecting his hand.
Murdoch knew that Dougal was not a man who often heard the word “no.” If ever. He was a man who got what he wanted, when he wanted it. The idea of anybody turning him down or refusing to bend to his will was anathema to him—just as it was to him.
“I’ll send riders of me own out tae expand the search for her,” Dougal said.
“We’ll find her,” Murdoch said. “We’ll bring her back tae ye.”
Dougal sat and turned back to the fire. “She’s goin’ tae regret what she’s done.”
“As well she should. I’ve always said the girl has far too much fire in her,” Murdoch said. “’Tis about time those flames were extinguished.”
“I’ll have tae break her like I dae a spirited horse.”
“She’ll be yer wife. Ye’re free tae dae as ye please.”
As long as she’s nae me responsibility anymore.
Dougal nodded, mollified for the moment. They sat in silence for a couple of minutes, sipping their wine and staring into the fire, each of them lost in their own thoughts. Isolde had always been far more trouble than she was worth to Murdoch. She was smart, sure, but she had far too many opinions. Worse than that, she had never feared giving voice to them. She was much like her mother had been. It had taken Murdoch many years to break Isolde of that habit.
Murdoch’s biggest regret in life was that he had not been given a son before his wife had died. He had no heir at the moment. He would likely sire one with one of his mistresses at some point, and bastard or not, when he was given a son, he would raise him to one day assume control of the clan. He would be glad for it when Isolde was in Dougal’s… care.
Once she was found and wed to Dougal, their alliance would be strengthened. Their hold on the lands around them would be firmer and with meddlesome troublemakers like Struan Cameron out of the way and his clan either subdued or obliterated, everybody and everything else would fall into line.Murdoch and Dougal would be the only source of power in this part of Scotland. And everything would be as it all should be. It was the proper way of things.
“Finlay is still nae talkin’,” Dougal said, his eyes on the flames that flickered and danced in the fireplace. “He willnae tell us anythin’. Said he’d rather be put tae death.”
“Maybe we should grant him his wish.”
“In time,” Dougal replied. “Fer the moment, he’s got some value tae us still. He will lead us tae Struan Cameron, I’ll make sure of it.”
“Me spies tell me he’s nae returned tae Achnacarry yet,” Murdoch said. “But he will return eventually. He’ll have tae.”
“Sounds like ye’re makin’ a wish there, Murdoch. Did Cameron’s escape debilitate ye this much?”
Murdoch hid his grimace behind his cup. Dougal sometimes seemed to forget who he was talking to and was a little too free with the insults. Murdoch knew he was Dougal’s superior. He was older. Had more experience. And was wiser. The man would do well to remember those things.
But until this crisis was over, Murdoch would hold his tongue. There was no point in arguing with his ally until everybody’s house was in order. The truth was, Murdoch knew it had been his men who’d let both Isolde and Struan escape and there wasnothing he could say to refute that. Although it was not his fault and it was the incompetence of his men that had caused this crisis, as the laird, the responsibility ultimately fell to him. And he could not say otherwise.
In an attempt to quiet his mind and push aside his anger, a plan began to coalesce in Murdoch’s mind.
“Dae ye ever fish, Laird MacPherson?”
“More so when I was younger. Why dae ye ask?”
“When ye used tae fish, what did ye need most?” Murdoch asked.
MacPherson sat back in his chair and frowned, seeming to be unsure where he was going with that. The sudden change in topic threw him. He shook his head. Murdoch sighed, a frown tugging the corners of his mouth downward, his expression dripping with condescension.
“Ye needed good bait,” Murdoch said, his tone matching his face. “And it seems tae me that we’ve got a good bit of bait in hand.”
“Finlay,” MacPherson said, finally catching on.
“Aye. Finlay.”
“All right. How dae ye propose we use this fine bit of bait?”
“The strip of land ye and the Camerons have been fightin’ over fer time out of mind,” he said. “I’ll propose we make a straight swap—Finlay fer the land.”
“And ye think that’ll draw Struan out of whatever hole he’s hidin’ in.”
