"She has the right. Bonny Mhairi is both Drummond and Mackinnon now." Callum's voice was deep and steady. He didn’t spare a glance for the weaponry arrayed before him. "This marriage unites the two glens and will bring peace."
By all that was holy, he was a brave laddie. A husband to make any lass proud. Mhairi just hoped to heaven she managed to bring him out of this alive so she could tell him that.
"My daughter is coming back to Bruard, where she’ll wed her cousin and follow Drummond ways," her father snarled.
"No’ while she's married to me."
John raised his sword. "That's easily fixed."
"Da, do ye count your honor for nothing?" Panic clawed at Mhairi as she looked around the tent and realized everything was coming undone.
Her arrival hadn’t allayed the Drummond’s fury. Her kinsmen intended Callum's death, then her father would snatch her back to Bruard, a widow after a mere day as a wife. Better she and Callum had stayed behind Achnasheen's stout walls and defied a thousand Drummond cannons.
"This man kidnapped ye and made you his whore," her father said, drawing his sword. "I willnae let his filthy hands defile ye again."
"He’s unarmed," she protested, as the Drummonds edged closer to her husband.
Nobody yet struck out. It was clear they saved the prize of killing the Mackinnon laird for her father. Beside her, Callum did not move. She realized with a shock that he'd always understood that there was a good chance he wouldn’t leave this camp alive. He'd thought the risk worthwhile.
By God, she didn't.
"So were ye when he snatched you," her father growled.
"I had my knife, and I cut him," she said, although at this stage, it hardly mattered.
Her father's smile was so ruthless, it turned her blood to ice. She’d hoped the sight of her might soften his opposition to her wedding. It turned out she was a sentimental fool. Her presence made everything worse. If she'd stayed in the castle, perhaps Callum could have used her safety as a bargaining counter to ensure his return to the keep.
Too late for regrets. She beat back waves of crippling fear and frantically struggled to come up with a way to retrieve the situation. At least Callum was wise enough to stay silent. A word from him at this stage would spell his death.
"Och, nice to hear there’s still a wee drop of Drummond blood left in ye, lass."
"I'm all Drummond," she snapped back.
"Aye, ye are." Her father's grip on his weapon tightened as he glowered at Callum. "Dinnae think that hiding behind my lass’s petticoats will save ye, Mackinnon. I'll no’ hesitate to slit your throat. I'll kill ye with no more feeling than I’d have killing a weasel or a fox or a stoat. You’re vermin."
"No, Da," she said in horror. Nausea and disbelief curdled in her stomach. This couldn’t be happening. She wouldn’t let it happen.
"Stay out of it, Mhairi," John said. "This is a matter for men."
His dismissal sparked her fury and banished her shaking dread. Ignoring the ominous circle of swords, she deliberately stepped between her father and Callum.
"No, it's no’ a matter for men. No’ when it's a matter for women to weep over dead sons and brothers and husbands. It's a matter for women to tend the graves of kinsmen who died too young and to nae purpose. Father, it's time this feud ended. It's time ye looked beyond petty revenge and thought about what's best for your clan."
"Girl, ye have nae right to speak to the chieftain like that," John protested.
"Aye, I have. More than most, given I now belong to both the Drummonds and the Mackinnons."
Her father paled. "What's yon bastard done to ye, lass? You used to ken who ye are."
She looked directly at her father. She loved him. She always would. But he was right. Her time at Achnasheen had changed her, made her see her world more clearly. What she observed now was an aging man clinging vainly to tired old ways that had lost any benefit they'd ever had.
When she spoke, her words emerged with a certainty that even an hour ago she hadn’t felt. "I ken exactly who I am. I’ve always been proud to be William Drummond's daughter. But I'm also Callum Mackinnon's wife, and I'm nae less proud of that."
Her father's lips drew back from his teeth in a snarl. "You'll soon forget this miserable worm when he’s planted ten feet deep in the ground."
"Never!" she said.
"We'll see about that," her father said, lurching toward Callum.
"Mackinnon, watch out!" one of the Mackinnon men cried, as Callum jumped to the side and grabbed up a tall candlestick to defend himself. The rest of the Drummonds stepped back to give their chieftain room.
"Have a thought to what you’re doing, man," he said, still sounding calm. "Ye break every rule of chivalry if you kill me."
"I don’t give a rat’s arse for chivalry," her father said, lunging after his enemy once more. This time, the blade barely missed its target. "Ye stole my bairn away. Now you’ll pay."
On a jagged scream, Mhairi flung herself between the two men. "Da, dinnae hurt him. I beg ye. He came here tonight in good faith."
"God’s wounds, Mhairi, get out of the blasted way," her father growled. "You'll get hurt."
She stood her ground, shaking but immovable. "If ye want to stab him, you'll have to stab me first."
Callum's hand fell on her shoulder. "Step aside, mo chridhe. I willnae have ye injured."
She turned her desperate gaze up to him, standing just behind her. Only at that moment did she realize that her face was drenched in tears. "Dinnae be a fool, Callum. If I shift, he’ll kill ye."
Callum looked across at her father. "Send my men home safely."
"Ye have my word, Mackinnon."
"Your word is worth nothing," Mhairi snapped. "I’m fair shamed to call myself a Drummond."
"Whisht, girl," her father hissed.
“I willnae be quiet!”
Her father ignored her. "Your men can carry your body back, Mackinnon."
"No! Dinnae kill him, Da." Mhairi backed closer to Callum. Her belligerence drained away, and her voice emerged cracked with anguish. "If ye kill him, I cannae go on. I love him. I love him, Da. If ye kill him, you may as well kill me as well."
"Mhairi, ye…" Callum no longer sounded composed and prepared for his fate. He sounded stricken and at a loss, although surely he must already know she loved him.
She couldn't risk shifting her gaze from her father. The power of her eyes alone stopped him from slaughtering her husband.
A thorny silence crashed down, and her father lowered his sword as he turned to her. "How can ye love this bastard?"
He sounded baffled rather than angry. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her kinsmen regarding her in disbelieving horror.
"How could I no’? If ye knew him, you'd understand." She raised a shaking hand to wipe her tears away. Her voice turned pleading. "Da, I beg of ye, if you love me at all, dinnae kill the man I chose as my husband, the man I hope will be the father of my children. Please, Da. You've always been so good to me. Will ye break my heart now?"
"I'm here to rescue ye, child," he said, still sounding bewildered.
A choked laugh escaped her. "I dinnae need rescuing, Da. Instead, I need the two men I love to make friends."
At last she turned away from her father. Unable to bear standing so close to Callum without touching him, she threw her arms around him and clutched him close. When his arm curled around her, strong and reassuring, she buried her head in his side and sobbed like the world was ending.
Chapter 27
Callum tenderly embraced the woman who risked so much for his sake and settled an unwavering stare on the Drummond. As he watched his distraught daughter in the arms of his enemy, the old man look tired and drawn and devastated.
Every Drummond eye in the tent focused on Mhairi with a mixture of amazement and disapproval. The only sound was the patter of rain on the canvas and Mhairi's desperate weeping.
"Och, my bonny, dinnae cry," her father said, stepping clos
er and reaching out an unsteady hand to touch her shoulder. "Ye ken I cannae stand to see you cry."
When she jerked away from his hand, Callum caught a flash of hurt in the old man's eyes.
Without shifting from Callum’s embrace, she raised her head to look at her father. "If ye kill my husband, I'll cry until there isn’t a single tear left in all Scotland," she said in a voice shaking with distress.
The Drummond looked troubled. "John told me ye were mistreated and unhappy, wee Mhairi. He said ye were bravely standing up to your travails, but we needed to get ye out."
Callum watched John shift in discomfort. He suspected his rival might have exaggerated Mhairi's miseries to stir up the Drummond's outrage. After all, John had an ulterior motive for wanting Mhairi a widow and home at Bruard.
"Did ye no’ read my letter about how happy I was to marry Callum, and how I hoped you'd find it in ye to forgive me for wedding a Mackinnon, and how I wanted to bring my husband to Bruard as an honored guest and a kinsman?"
The old man's unhappiness didn't ease. "I thought the bastard had forced ye into writing those lies."
"They werenae lies," Mhairi said. "They’re the truth."
"But he’s a Mackinnon, lass," the Drummond said, still sounding mystified.
Callum fished in his coat pocket for a handkerchief and gave it to Mhairi. He was only just coming to terms with the miracle that had occurred. A few minutes ago, he'd been most unwillingly preparing to meet his Maker. Now that his wife at last declared her love, he had more reason than ever for wanting to live.
But danger no longer sharpened the air in the tent. Nobody here apart from Mhairi and his men wished him well, but the time had passed when William Drummond was likely to slit him from gullet to groin. John was still glowering at him like a hungry man glowered at a rat in the pantry but he doubted the man would seize the initiative from the laird and kill Callum.
He hoped he wasn’t being too optimistic.
"Thank you," Mhairi said in a muffled voice. She blew her nose and when she spoke her voice was clearer, if still raw. "I'm a Mackinnon now, Da. The children I have will be Mackinnons."
"And Drummonds," Callum said, but the old man had attention to spare for nobody but his daughter.
"Och, do ye no’ want to come back to Bruard, lass? The place is awfu’ quiet and sad without ye."
Mhairi eased her frantic grip on Callum, although she remained in his arms. "I'd love to come back, Da."
"Then…" The Drummond looked brighter, but she went on before he could respond.
"I'd love to come back for a feast to celebrate my wedding. I'd love ye to welcome the Laird and Lady of Achnasheen to your home and your clan."
The old man stiffened. "A Mackinnon at my table."
Mhairi's voice was firm. "Aye, Da. And your attendance when my weans are christened. And your frequent presence at Achnasheen as a visitor yourself."
"Our forebears will rise from the grave," John protested, raising his sword. "The blood of a thousand Drummonds cries out for revenge."
Mhairi cast her cousin a darkling look. "There’s been more than enough revenge over the centuries. Or that’s what ye always said until I married the Mackinnon."
Her father frowned at John, and Callum saw that he only now connected John’s ill reports of Mhairi’s treatment in Achnasheen with his status as a rejected suitor. "John Drummond, I’ll thank ye to leave respecting of the forefathers to me until you’re sitting in my chair at the head table at Bruard."
John gave an audible hiss at the reprimand but when he looked around his kinsmen, he must have seen that any insubordination would receive little support. It was clear that William Drummond, despite his age, still held the power at Castle Bruard.
"I hope that’s not for many years yet, Da," Mhairi said, as John lowered his blade with visible reluctance.
"Och, so do I, lass," her father said, still eying John with displeasure. "Although I’d hoped to have ye sitting beside me for a good while yet."
"I’ll sit beside ye when I visit."
"It’s no’ enough."
"Da, it has to be. My place is with my husband now." She went on before the old man could summon another protest over her marriage. "It’s time to mend the rift between our clans."
"Ye ask too much," he said in sudden anger.
She edged closer to Callum. "Perhaps for tonight," she said gently.
"I should banish ye from my sight."
"That would do ye more harm than you deserve, sir," Callum said. "Is there nae way we can reconcile, given we both love this fair lassie and it seems she loves us both?"
The Drummond's glare was murderous. He was still a long way from content with the choices his daughter had made. "And if I cannae stomach a Mackinnon son-in-law?"
Mhairi finally stepped away from Callum, giving him a glimpse of her face. In less fraught circumstances, he would have smiled. Bonny Mhairi even managed to look picturesque after crying an ocean of tears.
"I’ll have nae other, Da," she said softly. "Even if ye murder him."
The Drummonds in the tent drew in an audible breath at her effrontery. For a moment, the old man scowled at her. Then he sighed and sheathed his sword. At this sign of capitulation from their chieftain, his men lowered their weapons, too.
"Och, lass, if ye love him, how can I kill him?" Mhairi’s father said wearily. "Even if the bastard deserves it."
Callum sucked in his first full breath since he'd entered the tent. It seemed certain that he was going to survive after all. He caught his kinsmen's eyes on him and nodded briefly.
The Drummond opened his arms to her. "Come and make peace with your old father, lass."
Mhairi didn't immediately move. "So you'll give me your blessing and welcome Callum to the family?"
The old man's frown for Callum was inimical but no longer promised violence. "That might be too much to ask just now. But ye ken I hate to be at odds with you."
"Aye, Da," she said with a docility Callum had never heard from her before.
She embraced her father with a sincere affection that he couldn’t mistake. Callum was a long way from liking his new kin, but as he said, a mutual love for Mhairi was a good place for any rapprochement to start.
Mhairi drew away, sniffing.
"Och, what are ye crying for now, ye daft lassie?" the Drummond asked with a rough fondness that made her lips stretch in a shaky smile.
"I've missed ye so much. And I hate that you're angry and disappointed in me."
Her father shook his head and spoke with more of that gruff tenderness. "Ye were always inclined to go your own way. Why should I expect ye to do anything different when it comes to the laddie you set your heart on? Now kiss your old da and let's stop all this brangling."
She kissed her father's cheek and gave him another long hug. "So you'll accept Callum as the husband of my choice?"
The eyes the Drummond focused on Callum were sharper than he'd expected, given his softness with his daughter. "At the very least, I'll let him walk free and alive out of my camp tonight."
"And you'll let me go with him?" Mhairi asked.
The silence probably only lasted a few seconds, but to Callum it seemed an eternity. "Och, lassie…"
"I'll fight for her," he said. “I’ll fight ye until there isn’t a Drummond standing to stop me from getting her back.”
"What about peace in the glens?" the Drummond jeered.
"She's my wife, and I love her. Ye willnae take her from me, Drummond."
"Perhaps ye do love her." Callum felt the old man striving to see through to his soul. "You’d damn well better. If ye treat her badly, I'll be back with my guns to pound Achnasheen to dust."
Heady relief crashed down. In the end, his gamble had paid off. The Drummonds weren't going to kill him, at least tonight. His men would leave safely, too. They'd all walk out of here with Bonny Mhairi, and the siege would end. Even better, Mhairi and her father had reconciled. He wasn't so hopeful about whether the old m
an would ever accept him as a kinsman. But all in all, it had been a good night.
Better than good. Mhairi had said she loved him. Elation made his heart leap against his ribs. She loved him. Soon he'd have her back at Achnasheen and he’d get her to tell him in private, instead of in front of the world at large.
But that was for later. Right now, he needed to lay the foundations for what he'd worked so long and hard to achieve. An end to the feud between the Drummonds and the Mackinnons.
He bowed his head. "She's the wife of my heart, sir, and I promise to devote every drop of my blood to making her happy."
The old man didn't smile. "See that ye do." He paused. "It was a brave thing ye did, coming to me tonight. Ye knew you werenae likely to emerge from my tent alive. I dinnae like ye, Mackinnon, and you're no’ the man I’d have chosen for my daughter's husband. I'll never forgive ye for stealing her away from me, even if it's clear she’s willing to overlook how your courtship started. But I can see ye love her."
"I do."
"And she loves ye."
"Aye, Da, more than I can say," Mhairi said, crossing to take Callum's hand.
He swallowed the emotion jamming his throat. He wasn’t yet used to hearing her proclaim her feelings. The simple statement still had the power to turn his heart to caramel.
"So perhaps it's time the families came together to mend the wounds of the past."
"Thank ye, Drummond," Callum said with a bow.
The old man even managed a strained smile. Callum appreciated the effort.
The Drummond swept his hand through the air in a comprehensive gesture that included everyone in the tent. His good humor was only slightly less strained than his smile. "I hope ye and your kinsmen will join me in a wee dram before you go back to Achnasheen. Then it’s time to pack up the camp and get my fine men back to their own beds."
***
It was late when Callum and Mhairi and their escort rode back through the gates of Achnasheen. The rain had stopped, so he wasn't surprised to see the courtyard lit with flaming torches and crammed with what looked like every one of his kinsfolk currently sheltering in the castle. He hadn’t been convinced he’d make it back from visiting William Drummond. It seemed his clan had been equally uncertain of his fate.
The Highlander's Defiant Captive Page 22