Page 36 of The Highlander’s Iron Hold (Kilted Kisses #4)

"He's been gathering men," Niven reported. "Our scouts estimate nearly a hundred fighters now under his command. More than we thought he could muster."

"Then we need tae move quickly," Colin said, his tactical mind taking over despite his personal turmoil. "Send word tae the MacDublins and the Campbells. Ask if they can spare men fer a joint action."

"The timing couldn't be better," MacDougall agreed. "Fraser's been testing our borders fer weeks, but now we have the means tae push back decisively. Strike first, strike hard."

They were right, of course, Colin thought as he outlined battle plans and assigned responsibilities. That was the real purpose of the marriage, to get the money. The money changes everything.

We can defend our people properly now, end this threat once and fer all. But what good is protecting our lands if I've lost the one person I truly care about?

"What about a siege?" Niven suggested. "We could starve them out rather than lose men in direct assault."

"Too long," Colin replied, shaking his head. "Fraser may have allies come tae his aid if we give them time. We need this finished quickly."

They spent another hour discussing strategy.

They had to decide which approaches offered the best advantage, how to coordinate with their allies, what equipment they would need.

Colin participated fully, his years of military experience evident in every decision, but part of his mind remained fixed on the image of Morag's face when she'd walked away from him.

"Me laird?" MacLeod's voice broke through his thoughts. " Should we move against Fraser now, while we have the advantage?"

Colin looked around the table at the expectant faces. These men had served his family for decades, had trusted his judgment through lean years and hard decisions. They deserved a leader who could focus on their needs, not one drowning in regret.

"Aye," he said finally, his voice carrying the authority they expected. "We'll deal with Fraser. Send word tae our allies immediately. I want commitments within the week. Hire the mercenaries we discussed, and begin moving supplies tae forward positions."

"And if Fraser strikes first?" asked Niven.

"Then we'll be ready fer him," Colin replied grimly. "Either way, this ends soon."

The council erupted in pleased murmurs and began discussing logistics in earnest. Colin assigned specific tasks to each man—MacLeod would handle negotiations with allies, MacBride would oversee mercenary recruitment, MacDougall would coordinate supply movements.

For the first time in months, his council had real hope, real plans backed by real resources.

But as they continued planning, Colin found his thoughts drifting back to Morag. Was she in their chambers now, packing her belongings? Was she weeping, or had her pride already hardened into the cold politeness she'd shown him in the courtyard?

"The eastern approach offers the best tactical advantage," Colin pointed to the map spread between them.

"Aye, but we'd be crossing Fraser territory tae reach it," Duncan Macleod countered. "Too risky."

Colin forced himself to focus. "Okay, then. We'll use the northern route," he decided. "Longer, but safer. We can establish a base camp here"—he pointed to a spot on the map—"and move in coordinated strikes."

The meeting dragged on as they refined their plans, assigned responsibilities, and set timelines. When it finally ended, Colin was the first to leave, desperate for air that didn't smell of satisfaction and gold.

He was halfway across the courtyard, his mind still churning with battle plans and personal regrets, when one of the stable boys came running toward him. "Me laird! Me laird!" the boy called breathlessly.

"What is it, lad?" Colin asked, though his heart was already sinking. Something in the boy's expression spoke of disaster.

"It's Lady Morag, sir. She took Midnight and rode out nearly an hour ago. Wouldnae listen when I told her ye'd given orders about stayin’ within the castle grounds."

Colin's face went white as death, then darkened with fury. In two strides, he crossed to the boy and grabbed him by the shoulders, his fingers digging in hard enough to make the lad wince.

"An hour?" he roared, shaking the boy slightly. "An hour and ye're only telling me now? Where the hell were ye when she was saddling the horse?"

"I-I tried tae stop her, me laird!" Angus stammered, his eyes wide with fear. "She pushed past me and said she was Lady Armstrong and could ride where she pleased!"

"Stubborn, bloody-minded lass," Colin snarled, releasing the boy so abruptly he nearly fell. "Which direction? Exactly which direction, lad, and dinnae ye dare tell me ye dinnae remember!"

"Toward the eastern woods, me laird! The path that leads toward Fraser lands!"

Colin spun toward the nearest guard. "Ye! Why wasn't I informed immediately? What the hell are ye all being paid fer if ye can't keep track of one woman?"

The guard paled. "We thought... she's yer wife, me laird. We didnae think?—"

"Ye didnae think!" Colin backhanded the man hard enough to send him stumbling. "That's the problem! None of ye were thinking!"

"She said ye could take yer orders and... well, sir, ye get the gist"

Despite his fury, a flash of admiration cut through Colin's panic.

Even angry enough to risk her life, Morag was still fighting him with every breath.

But it was quickly overwhelmed by cold fear.

The eastern woods bordered Fraser territory, and with their recent raids, nowhere outside of the castle walls was safe.

"Ready Warrior," Colin commanded, already moving toward the stables with deadly purpose. "And send word tae Niven and Duncan. We ride out immediately."

As he strode toward the stables, Colin's mind raced with terrible possibilities. Morag was alone, angry, and riding straight toward the most dangerous territory in the Highlands. If Fraser's men found her...

The gold could buy him armies, but it couldn't buy back the trust he'd shattered.

And right now, as he prepared to ride into potentially hostile territory to find his wife, Colin would have traded every coin for the chance to undo the last few hours.

As the boy ran toward the stables, Colin stared out at the darkening sky.

Somewhere out there, Morag was alone and vulnerable, driven away by his own actions.

If anything happened to her because of this fight, because of his failure to tell her the truth from the beginning, he'd never forgive himself.