Page 30

30: THE OFFER

LENNOX MACKAY WAS seated in front of the hearth in the hall of Kilchurn Castle, staring moodily into the dancing flames, when the heavy tread of approaching footsteps warned him his solitude was about to be shattered.

He tensed, anticipating that his brother had come downstairs to speak to him.

Iver was the last person he wanted to see right now.

Every time their gazes had met today, Lennox’s temper flared hot.

He wanted to finish the fight his brother started, but they hadn’t had the opportunity.

Yet when Lennox glanced over his shoulder, he spied Colin Campbell, not Iver, approaching.

“Ye are up late, Len,” Campbell greeted him.

The laird had wrapped himself up in a cloak of his clan plaid, green and blue—it was of a similar hue but without the emerald and deep blues of the Mackay plaid.

“I don’t feel like sleeping just yet,” Lennox said.

“Aye, I know the feeling,” Campbell replied.

“Usually, a good hunt relaxes me, yet I’m restless this eve.” He motioned to the ewer of blackberry wine and cups on a shelf above the hearth.

“Will ye share a cup of wine with me before we retire?”

Lennox nodded.

Wordlessly, the laird poured them two cups, handed his companion one, and then settled into a chair opposite him.

Wrapping his fingers around the cup, Lennox raised it to his lips and took a cautious sip.

His split lip still stung whenever he drank anything, and now was no exception.

Nonetheless, the wine was welcome.

It was the same one they’d drunk at supper—deep and fruity, it tasted like summer.

“It’s a shame ye are leaving so soon,” Campbell said then.

“I’ve enjoyed yer company … and was hoping for another rousing boar hunt.”

Lennox grimaced.

“Aye, well … the choice wasn’t mine, Colin,” he replied.

“Iver made his decision without consulting me.”

Like he always does.

Their gazes met briefly, and they shared a moment of understanding.

Iver hadn’t warmed to Campbell over the past few days, but Lennox got on with the man well enough.

He enjoyed his plain speech and bawdy sense of humor.

Nonetheless, the scene the night before with the laird’s daughter had been awkward; Campbell had handled it badly.

“Aye, well, he is infatuated, lad,” the Lord of Glenorchy murmured.

“That’s what happens when a woman bewitches a man.”

Lennox snorted.

Indeed, Iver was besotted by his chambermaid.

His jaw clenched then.

He had nothing against the lass personally.

Bonnie appeared sweet-natured.

But his brother had no business marrying her.

What was the point of swearing off marriage all these years, if he ended up wedding a woman this far beneath him?

It was just another sign that his brother didn’t take his role seriously.

Silence drew out between the two men before Campbell eventually cleared his throat.

“Ye don’t strike me as rivals,” he observed, his gaze glinting.

“Do ye wish ye were the chieftain of Dun Ugadale then?”

Lennox shook his head.

He heaved a sigh, considering his words carefully.

Although he’d made a deliberate jibe on the ride home—aye, he’d seen the ire spark in his brother’s eyes—he was wary of criticizing Iver behind his back.

His brother didn’t deserve that.

“I don’t want to be laird,” he replied.

And that was the truth—he didn’t.

“I just want to be allowed to choose my own path in life.”

Campbell nodded, his brow furrowing.

He then took a sip of wine, savoring it as he glanced over at the flickering fire.

The logs were burning down low now to glowing golden embers.

“Ye don’t have to return to Dun Ugadale, ye know?” he said after a long pause.

Lennox raised an eyebrow before drinking from his cup once more.

“I don’t?”

“It sounds to me as if ye are a man craving a challenge.” Their gazes met then, and Campbell’s mouth curved into a rueful smile.

“What if I offered ye a position here?”

Lennox inclined his head.

“What sort of position?”

“Captain of the Kilchurn Guard.”

Lennox’s breathing grew shallow.

He wondered if the laird had overheard his and Iver’s argument the evening before.

Did he know that Lennox had wanted to lead the Dun Ugadale Guard, yet had been passed over in favor of Kerr?

“That’s a generous offer, Colin,” he replied cautiously, viewing Campbell over the rim of his cup.

“But won’t the current captain object to being demoted?”

Campbell pulled a face.

“There is no captain of the Guard at present. I killed him.”

Lennox’s gaze widened.

Yet he remained silent, waiting for Campbell to explain himself.

“My daughter formed an inappropriate … relationship … with my previous captain,” Campbell admitted, his mouth twisting.

“When I discovered it, we fought, and I did indeed slay him.” He paused then, his gaze shadowing.

“I felt vindicated at the time, for the man was far beneath her in rank, and had committed a grave insult … yet it seems that Davina will never forgive me.”

“She might,” Lennox murmured.

“With time.”

Nonetheless, he’d seen the glint in the young woman’s eye the day before.

Davina Campbell possessed a waifish beauty and was too fragile looking to appeal to Lennox, who preferred his women buxom.

However, she was a stubborn lass—not so different from her sire, it seemed.

The older man sighed then and dragged a hand down his face, revealing that the situation was weighing on him even more heavily than he’d let on.

“I don’t choose a captain lightly,” he said after a lengthy pause, “but over the past days, I’ve seen that ye are a man with a character I admire.” Their gazes fused then.

“I’d be honored if ye’d stay on at Kilchurn.”

“I’m remaining here.”

Iver halted.

“What?” He’d been on his way across the courtyard outside the tower house, to retrieve his horse, when Lennox called his name.

His brother now stood before him, jaw set and shoulders tense, as if he was readying himself for another fight.

“Colin has offered me a position at Kilchurn … and I have taken it.”

Iver’s breathing grew shallow, while beside him, Bonnie was silent.

Meanwhile, the party of four warriors who’d accompany them home stopped saddling their horses and swiveled to watch them.

Lennox ignored his audience.

“I’m to captain his guard,” he added, his eyes glinting.

Recovering, Iver scowled.

“But ye are needed at Dun Ugadale.”

A taut silence followed these words before Lennox growled back, “Ye can find yerself another bailiff.”

Iver’s pulse started to hammer in his ears.

He couldn’t believe Lennox was doing this.

Attempting to leash his rising anger, he folded his arms across his chest. “Is this revenge?”

Lennox snorted.

“No.”

“Why then?”

His brother’s expression shuttered.

“I need a change.”

They stared at each other then, and Iver’s mouth thinned.

Lennox wasn’t being honest with him; nonetheless, Iver didn’t want to brawl with him again, especially in front of Bonnie.

“So, ye are set on this?”

Lennox nodded.

“And there’s nothing I can say to change yer mind?”

Their gazes met once more.

Lennox looked as if he hadn’t slept the night before: a dark-blond stubble covered his strong jaw, and his short hair was mussed.

“No,” he replied gruffly.

Lennox’s attention then shifted from Iver to where Bonnie still stood at her husband’s side.

Wrapped up in a woolen cloak, her red hair braided in a long plait down her back, she watched her brother-by-marriage warily.

Iver didn’t blame her.

Lennox hadn’t given her much reason to like him.

“I owe ye an apology, Bonnie,” Lennox muttered.

“I’ve been an arse.”

Bonnie’s gaze widened, while Iver’s mouth thinned.

He appreciated the gesture, yet his brother’s lack of grace vexed him.

Lennox huffed a sigh, revealing that his inarticulate words frustrated him as well.

His gaze then flicked between Iver and his wife.

“I wish ye both happiness,” he added.

“I mean that.”

“Thank ye,” Bonnie murmured.

Lennox favored her with a tight smile.

He then glanced Iver’s way once more.

“Explain my decision to Kerr and Brodie, will ye?” he asked.

“They will understand.”