Morgann clenched his jaw. “From a woman who has no rights over it. ‘Twas a promise ring between my father and my mother. My stepmother should never have given it to ye.”
Dougall laughed. “Yer stepmother gives me many things. Quite a woman that one. I'll look forward to the day when she's mine.”
“Yer welcome to her, but ye'll never get yer hands on MacRae lands too.”
The older man’s smile expanded as he clenched the ring. “So ye have me figured do ye? Yer a smart lad, Morgann. Too smart really. Ye’d have been better off just letting things run their course.”
“And what happens when Alana finds out just what yer up to?”
Dougall’s eyes narrowed. “My daughter is none of yer concern. Ye’ve always paid too much attention to her. Ach, I was even considering giving her to ye. Once I've married yer stepmother and taken yer lands, it seemed only right that ye at least have something.”
“Alana will be heartbroken when she finds out what yer up to.”
“As I told ye,” Dougall ground out. “‘Tis none of yer concern. I dinnae do this to hurt her. ‘Tis the way of the world, lad. Surely ye can see that? If I want to be sure of providing her with all I can and the only way I can do that is by holding onto power. Ye wouldnae want to see her penniless now would ye?”
“That would never happen, Dougall. I wouldnae allow it.”
“And I willnae allow ye to see her again. I'll no’ have ye poisoning her against me. Yer banished from Dunleith. Ye and all the MacRaes.” He stepped closer. “I love my daughter and I’ll do all I can to protect her. Including keeping ye away from her. Ye step foot on my land again and ye'll be dead, understand?”
Releasing a growl, Morgann yanked at his restraints. His captors held him tight as he fought against their hold. Ach, but he’d failed. Failed to get the proof he needed and now he’d never get another chance. His gut burned with frustration.
“I'll no’ let ye take the MacRae lands, Dougall.” He yanked forward, throwing all his weight into the movement and the men’s grip loosened enough for him to smash his head into Dougall's face. The man dropped to the floor, eyes wide as he clutched at a bloody nose.
Morgann’s head pounded and he briefly saw stars but the men were upon him again, holding him tight. Dougall clambered to his feet and Morgann released a grin at the sight of blood streaming down his face.
“I tried to make it easy on ye, lad,” Dougall pressed through gritted teeth. “Ye’ve only yerself to blame. Take him to the blacksmith’s to be branded. He's a thief. He should be punished accordingly.”
“A mheapain!” Morgann spat as the warriors dragged him across the room. Morgann was strong but no match for two fully grown men. He forced down the bile rising in his throat. He’d seen animals branded. The press of hot metal on skin would be excruciating.
To his shame they hauled him down the stairs and past the revellers, including some of his kin. He only hoped they were sent away peacefully and none decided to fight. They were sorely outnumbered. Alana rose from the table, a hand to her mouth as she watched them pass.
Morgann sagged into his captors’ hold when they stepped out into the bailey. Little use fighting now. A feminine voice sounded behind him and they all paused.
“What are ye doing, Da?” Alana hurried across the mud, skirts in hand. “Why do ye hold Morgann prisoner? The MacRaes are baying for yer blood. I’ve told them Morgann must have been playing tricks again.”
Dougall crossed his arms over his chest. “‘Tis naught to do with ye, Alana. Go back inside. I’ll deal with the MacRaes when I return.”
She turned her gaze to Morgann. “Morgann?”
He swallowed. Funny, he’d never realised how pretty the lass was. Aye, she’d had her fair share of interest from suitors but there was something about her pale hair in the moonlight and the hint of womanly curves under her gown. And now her wide gaze latched onto his, begging for the truth.
He sighed. “Naught, Alana. ‘Tis between us men. Go inside. I’ll speak with ye soon and explain.”
She nodded slowly, her brow still furrowed. “Aye, as ye will.”
“Go now,” her father commanded sharply.
Darting a look between both of them, Alana snatched her skirts once more. “Come to me later, Morgann.”
A faint growl came from Dougall but the man clearly didn’t want to upset his daughter so allowed Morgann to respond quietly, “Aye, later, lass.”
As he was dragged to the blacksmith for his punishment, all hope fled and his heart sank. He doubted very much he’d ever see Alana again. And the future of his clan looked bleak indeed.
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The Borderland Legacy Page 47