The man slumped to the side, eyes shutting. As Alex struggled to get up, the first thing he saw was Donald with his hands in the air, surrounded by three Campbell men. “I vow I’m here to help!”
“Aye,” Munroe said. “He’s with us.”
All the men looked to Alex as he stepped over Lachlan’s unmoving body. “Aye, he’s my right hand,” he said, striving to quell the rising panic. If Donald was here, that meant only Broch was protecting Lena, but Alex rested slightly easier in the knowledge that Broch was fierce and loyal to Lena. “Collect Lachlan,” Alex commanded his own men to ensure Lachlan would not be treated roughly.
As his men moved toward Lachlan, Alex ripped off a piece of his plaid and tied it around the wound Lachlan had given him, hoping to stop the flow of blood.
The Campbell stood in front of him, eying him. “I’ll have to admit, I did nae believe ye would do it, that ye were really here to support the Steward, but ye have just made a believer of me.” He clasped Alex on his shoulder. “Welcome to the new reign.”
Alex wanted to drive his fist into the fiend’s face. Instead, he simply acknowledged the man’s words with a nod. He could not give any of his own. He feared his words would betray him if he spoke to the Campbell in this moment when so much worry for Lena filled Alex and guilt for Lachlan weighed on him.
“Bind the prisoners’ hands,” the Campbell ordered his men, who were guarding the other three MacLeods. “They can walk behind the horses like the dogs they are.”
As the men were paraded past Alex, each spit at his feet.
“Traitor,” the first man said.
“Swine,” the second man added.
“Death to ye,” the third growled.
The Campbell motioned at Alex. “My men will take the front with the prisoners.”
“Lachlan is my prisoner,” Alex said, punctuating each word to show there would be no negotiating.
Behind Alex, Lachlan roared. The man was awake and in a rage. “I’m going to rip off yer head,” he bellowed. “Ye better nae have harmed my sister.”
“Ye can deal with him,” the Campbell said and turned away, motioning his men to start for home.
Alex strode to Lachlan, getting close enough so only Lachlan would be able to hear what he had to say. Lachlan was restrained by two of Alex’s men, but he was fighting the hold they had on him.
“I’m nae a traitor,” Alex said in a low tone, even though all but his men were now far enough away they would not overhear.
“Ye’re a damned traitor,” Lachlan said again, spitting toward Alex’s feet.
“I’m nae,” he growled, knowing time was critical. He quickly told Lachlan of the king’s mission and of his meeting with the Steward, as well as how he was supposed to bring Lachlan to the Steward to try to gain MacLeod favor.
Lachlan stared at him in silence, his chest going from heaving with anger to being utterly still. He flicked his gaze to Alex’s wounded shoulder. “I suppose it’s a good thing I did nae kill ye, then.”
Alex nodded. “Release him.”
Lachlan eyed Alex. “If ye are here amongst our enemies, where is my sister? At Duart Castle, I hope.”
“Nay,” Alex said. “She came with me.” He turned to Donald. “Why are ye here? I told ye clearly that if it seemed there was danger, ye should take Lena to Dunvegan. Where is she?”
“She would nae depart,” Donald said.
“Ye could nae force a wee lass to do yer will?” Alex demanded.
“Nay! And neither could ye or she’d nae have come here with ye in the first place.”
Alex’s jaw twitched at the truth of Donald’s words.
“She feared for yer life against her brother,” Donald continued, “and sent me to help ye.”
Her worry for him put her in danger. “Broch is with her, then?” When Donald did not immediately answer but gave Alex an uneasy look, Alex bit out one word. “Speak.”
“Marsaili was taken by the Campbell’s men and returned to his holding,” Donald said, his words stilted, as if he feared Alex’s reaction. “Lena sent Broch to save Marsaili.”
