The noise of distress rose to a loud buzz.
Lachlan nodded, growing numb with a resolute need to get Bridgette back. “The strike from the water was a decoy,” he said, matter-of-fact, no longer feeling anything but hatred and deep, unwavering resolve. “Call the council together in the great hall, Graham. I fear we have more than one traitor amongst us.”
Graham nodded and quickly departed to do Lachlan’s bidding. “We will rescue them,” Cameron said quietly, setting his hand on Lachlan’s shoulder.
Rage breached the numbness that had set in. “Aye,” Lachlan replied, anger making his voice hoarse. “The Campbells think to make an alliance with Alex by marrying Colin and Bridgette. They dunnae ken Alex well enough.”
“Nay, they dunnae,” Cameron agreed, “but that dunnae make a difference for Bridgette now.”
“Nay,” Lachlan agreed, his chest tightening. He fought to gain control of the anger once again swirling like a violent storm within him. “Away to the great hall,” he commanded the men.
They all departed with haste, save Cameron who stood his ground, a concerned look creasing his normally smooth forehead with lines.
“Leave me,” Lachlan ordered as his throat burned with the need to bellow his rage. It would not be contained. Turning, he slammed his fist into the stone wall once. Twice. Three times. A red haze descended as he pummeled the stone, imagining Colin’s face, his uncle’s face.
From behind, Cameron grabbed his arm. He swung around, fist raised, and struck out. Cameron dodged to the left, then threw up his hands. “Enough, ye clot-heid. Ye need that fist to fight with.”
Lachlan looked down at his bloodied knuckles. He felt no pain. He curled his fingers into his hand. “I will fight,” he assured his brother, who responded with a quick nod. “I will rip out Colin Campbell’s heart and shove it down his throat,” he swore, vowing his vengeance as he strode toward the great hall.
Everyone on the council was assembled there except Iain—he was still with David—and Atholl. Lachlan frowned and looked to Graham. “Where is Atholl?”
Graham’s face turned a mottled shade of red. “Gone.”
“Ye’re sure?”
Graham nodded. “His horse is gone from the stables. I checked.”
Stunned to learn that Atholl had also betrayed them, it took a moment for Lachlan to collect his thoughts. “Graham, ye must ride to Iain and Alex at the MacDonalds and tell them what has occurred. Alex will want to call forth his army, and Marion’s uncle will join us, I feel certain.”
“Nay,” Graham rebuked. “I am the best tracker here, and ye ken it. I will find which way they went and help ye save Marion and Bridgette.”
Lachlan nodded. Graham was a renowned tracker, and his skill could likely be the thing that helped them find Bridgette and Marion. “So be it. We will leave shortly. Cameron, ye will ride to the MacDonalds.”
Cameron nodded.
Lachlan met the eyes of each council member gathered there. “The Campbells have joined forces with Jamie to take Dunvegan, and I fear others may be involved. Rory Mac, I leave ye to serve as laird in the absence of myself and my brothers.”
Rory Mac nodded, his face grave. Lachlan swallowed the emotion threatening to choke off his words. “I dunnae ken if they will strike soon. If they were ready, they would have done so today.”
“Aye,” came a chorus of agreement.
“Nevertheless, I’ll take only ten men with me and leave the rest with ye to defend Dunvegan,” he said to Rory Mac. “I dunnae have to tell ye that if they breach Dunvegan and take the castle—”
“They will nae,” Rory Mac responded in an ominous tone. “I vow this to ye, Lachlan.”
Lachlan responded with a nod as his throat closed off and he could not speak for a moment. He forced the emotion down and glanced at Graham. “Gather our ten fastest and best fighters and meet me in the courtyard.”
Graham nodded, and Lachlan departed the great hall to plan. He went to where he had last lain with Bridgette under the stars and stared up into the sky. He would get her back, and then he would pour down his vengeance upon his uncle, Colin, and all who helped them.
“She will be fine,” he said aloud, willing his words to be true, though his gut clenched as if a dagger had been plunged into it.
He squeezed his hands into fists, then pressed them against his head. He’d told Bridgette they were one and that no matter the distance that may separate them, he would find her. And that’s what he intended to do. She was his. She would always be his. No matter what might occur. No matter the seer’s prediction.
A single thought filled his mind:Stay alive, Bridgette.Stay alive.
He repeated the thought until his blood roared in his ears, and his muscles tensed with the need to make haste now.
I am coming for you.
