“I’ll be pleased to aid them,” Thomas said, giving Alex a smug look.
Alex would have happily choked Thomas in that moment. “Thomas, it would serve ye nae to forget what I told ye,” he said, hearing the balefulness of his tone. “Lena is my property. If ye so much as touch her, the devil himself will nae stop me from killing ye.”
Thomas flashed a feral smile. “Fashed she’ll prefer me? That I’ll make her warm when ye could nae?”
Alex shot his fist out and connected it squarely with Thomas’s face. The crunch of bone rang in his ears as he drew back and stared at the man he’d once called a friend. His guilt ate at him that Thomas had become what he now was. Blood poured out of Thomas’s nose as he cupped his face. The man wiped his hands across his mouth, hissing as he did so and leaving a trail of red smeared across his cheek. “Ye’ll suffer for that when ye return.”
“I look forward to it,” Alex snarled, then focused on the Steward. “Might I have one moment before departing to inform Lena that I’ll be away?” And to ensure Donald knew to flee with her.
“Dunnae fash yerself,” the Steward said. “I’ll have Euphemia tell yer wife at supper, if ye have nae returned by then.”
Dread washed over Alex at the mention of Euphemia’s name. A year after Gillis had died, he’d encountered Euphemia at a tournament. They had spoken, and he’d thought nothing of it, but that night, she’d come to his tent and confessed that Gillis used to beat her and that she knew Gillis had tortured him, too. She had wanted comfort she’d claimed could only be found in Alex’s arms. He’d been sixteen summers, and she was the first woman he’d ever joined with. He had discovered that she liked being dominated, and she’d encouraged him to do so. He’d been confused, lost, and angry, and he had allowed her to lead him down a dark path. When he’d ended their affair, she had been livid and had written countless letters threatening to kill herself if he did not continue seeing her. He’d ignored them, certain in his heart that she loved herself too much to harm herself. And he’d been right.
Then the realization struck.God’s teeth! Euphemia is here!
He prayed to God she did not tell Lena of his time with her. Lena would think him disgusting. He thought it of himself.
“Gather the men ye wish to take, and off with ye and the Campbell. Hopefully, ye will return in time to parade our captive at supper.”
Alex nodded, even as his stomach roiled with disgust.
Eighteen
“Gone?” Lena clutched her throat as a wave of apprehension swept through her. The voices of all the people gathered in the great hall for supper battered her. She sat at a table in a far corner, occupied only by her and Donald. None of the other MacLean warriors had appeared for supper, nor had Alex or Marsaili. In fact, they had not been seen since their audience with the Steward.
Broch nodded as he sat down in the empty chair beside her. “I did as ye asked,” he said, referring to her request for him to discover where Alex, Marsaili, and the other men were. Broch cleared his throat. “The servant lass I chose tospeakwith”—she and Broch exchanged a look. They both knew he had done far more than simply speak to the lass. He had charmed her with his silver tongue and gotten her to give him information that she no doubt had acquired by listening at forbidden doors—“told me that Marsaili had been taken by Campbell guards directly after arguing with her father. It seems the orders were to return her to the Campbell hold.”
“Oh no,” Lena wailed on a low whisper. She’d promised to help and protect Marsaili, and she had failed miserably. They had to do something. “Broch—”
“I’ll go after her,” he assured Lena. “They are nae more than a couple of hours ahead of me, and I can easily close such a distance. They will ride slower with Marsaili, and the servant lass informed me that only two guards accompanied her. Two men will be nae be a match for me.”
She nodded, feeling much relieved that Broch would aid Marsaili. “What of Alex and the others?”
Donald pressed closer. “Aye. What did ye learn? Where are the laird and our men?”
A grim look settled on Broch’s face. “The Steward demanded Alex prove his fealty by intercepting a party intent on ambushing one of the Steward’s raiding parties. The wench told me Alex set out with his men, alongside the Campbell and his men. Lena—” Broch’s words came to a shuddering halt, and he eyed her with pity.
“What?” she whispered, her pulse jumping wildly. “What is it?”
“Lachlan is leading the ambush, and Alex has been tasked with taking yer brother prisoner and bringing him here. The Steward means to torment him to near death but then spare his life to gain his goodwill.”
“My God,” Lena choked out, too stunned to say more. When she thought of Alex and Lachlan in combat against each other, she almost swooned. They were both renowned warriors, and Lachlan would think Alex had betrayed him and their king. She gripped the table, fearing for Alex, for Lachlan, and for herself. “My God,” she whispered again, feeling as if someone was squeezing both her heart and her throat. She grasped the wine goblet a servant girl had placed before her and took a long drink. The wine was especially strong and made her cough, but with nothing else to drink, she finished the ruby liquid and set the goblet down. “What if they kill each other? Lachlan will be enraged, and—” She gasped and clutched Broch’s forearm. “Alex would never kill Lachlan, even to carry out the king’s wishes. But Lachlan will be livid. He may well try to kill Alex! Donald—” she swung around to face Alex’s man “—ye must ride out and aid Alex. Ye must save him!”
“Nay, lass,” Donald said, his voice grim. “Alex was verra clear about what I should do if it seemed to me yer life could be in danger.”
“Nay,” she whispered fiercely, recalling the vow she had given to Alex about willingly departing with Donald for Dunvegan if the need arose. “I will nae leave with ye.”
“But yer oath,” Donald growled under his breath.
“I am nae in mortal danger,” she said. “Yer lairdis. Ye must ride out this instant and aid him!”
At that moment, Thomas Fraser entered the great hall, his lustful gaze—for she knew such a look when she saw one—coming to rest on her. Unease filled her. She may not be in mortal danger, but she was certain she may be in peril of ravishment. She would simply have to stay in sight of others and secure a weapon. With that thought in her mind, she turned to Broch, knowing all MacLeod warriors were never without multiple weapons. “I need a dagger.”
He frowned but discreetly reached down toward his boot and brought out a dagger, which he handed, point down, to her under the table. “Is there a particular reason ye feel ye need it other than to generally defend yerself?”
Tugging on the ribbon that held back her hair, she released it with one hand while lifting her skirt as inconspicuously as she could with the other. She leaned over as if to adjust her shoe and tied the dagger to her calf as she thought on how to respond. She did not want to voice her gut feeling about Thomas because she feared Donald would not go to Alex’s side if she did. Instead, she shook her head. “Nay. I simply prefer to be armed if I’ll be here alone amongst enemies.”
Broch nodded, but Donald scowled. “I kinnae leave ye. Alex would—”
