“There is no plan,” Lash finally found the voice to speak. He would die before he allowed anything to happen to Honoria. The choice was simple. “I will trade myself for her.”
“And then what? Die?” Hugh demanded. “That is no plan at all, which makes it the dumbest one I’ve ever heard.”
“Hugh is right, Mr. Ruthven,” Isla said. “Dying is not a plan.”
“There is no other choice,” Lash insisted. It was his life for Honoria’s. That was the only way Danior would let her go.
“No one is dying on my watch,” Hugh declared. “No matter how eager you may be to leap to your death.”
“My brother will not let her go any other way. My life is worth less than hers.”
“While I heartily agree,” Hugh said, casting him a dark look even as Isla swatted at him in indignation, “the lass will never leave without you. If you haven’t noticed, my sister is stubborn to the bone. Think about that.”
“There are six of them and two of us,” Lash bit out. “How else do you propose we dispatch of them?”
“Three against six,” Ross said. “I’m a decent shot.”
“Four against six,” Isla declared. All three men protested at once, but she merely folded her arms over her chest. “I’m a better shot than Hugh.”
“You are not,” Hugh growled.
“I am so much better than you.”
“Being a good shot and taking a life are two different matters,” Ross insisted. “It is best if you remain at the castle.”
“Then I won’t shoot anyone. You can draw the men out while I sneak inside and set Honoria free.”
“Nay,” Hugh growled.
Isla placed her hands on her hips. “She is my sister too. I am going along, no matter what you say. Have you learned nothing of why she left in the first place? You can either let me join you or I will follow by myself.”
“I vote for locking the lass up,” Ross growled.
“You wouldn’t dare!”
Ross clenched his teeth, but said nothing, leaving Lash to wonder what precisely was going on between those two. The last thing he wanted was Honoria’s sister near danger, but if the women were anything alike, they’d waste precious time arguing the matter.
“I would agree with Ross,” Hugh muttered. “But I wouldn’t put it past my sister to find a way to follow us anyway.”
“Then we are agreed?” Isla asked.
“Aye, but you stay out of harm’s way,” Hugh said sternly, waiting until she gave a reluctant nod.
Lash speared his fingers through his hair. He didn’t want any of them in harm’s way, felt an odd sense of affection for the MacCallan brood. Granted, living under the same roof as them was like accepting shelter in a bird’s nest while a gale raged all around them. Most days, only Honoria’s presence calmed the storm. But he still felt a fellowship to them all.
A sudden idea formed in his mind.
Danior was only as strong as his bond to his men, just as powerful as the loyalty of the men at his back. That loyalty was strenuous at best. They were not men of their old tribe, but common Roma bandits—Romas without a tribe.
His gaze flicked over Hugh, Isla, and Ross.
He had a tribe.
An unexpected but loyal tribe.
“We require more men,” Lash said. He brushed his hands through his disheveled hair. “At least a dozen, loyal, so there is no mistaking we have the upper hand.”
“I have four hands at the ready,” Ross offered.