Page 35 of The Highlander’s Savage Vow

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

" T he king's response has arrived."

Ruaridh held the royal seal in his hands, its weight far heavier than the simple wax and parchment suggested. The morning light streaming through their chamber windows seemed to dim as he broke the seal and read the contents.

Iona looked up from her needlework, hope flickering in her eyes. "What daes he say? Will he act against Murray?"

"Aye, he'll act." Ruaridh's voice was flat as he read the letter again. "But nae in the way we expected."

The needle slipped from her fingers. "What dae ye mean?"

"The king summoned Murray tae court tae answer fer the accusations in our letter.

" He moved to the window, staring out at the peaceful morning that now felt like the calm before a storm.

"But the bastard turned it around completely.

He's convinced His Majesty that ye're the traitor, and I'm the fool who married ye tae protect a criminal. "

"What?" The word came out as barely a whisper.

He turned back to face her, noting how the color had drained from her cheeks. "Murray presented his own evidence tae the king. Letters supposedly written by ye, correspondence that makes it appear ye were working with English sympathizers before our marriage."

Iona rose unsteadily from her chair. "But that's... that's completely false. Those letters—if they even exist—must be forgeries."

"Aye, but they were convincing enough fer the king tae call a Highland Council rather than simply executing Murray fer treason.

" Ruaridh's voice carried a bitter edge.

"Now instead of Murray answering fer his crimes, I'm the one who has tae appear before the Council tae defend me marriage and me judgment. "

"When?" she asked, though her voice sounded hollow.

"Three days hence. At Stirling." He watched her face crumple as the reality hit her. "I'm tae answer charges that I knowingly harbored a traitor and compromised Highland security fer personal gain."

"Nay." She began pacing between the bed and fireplace, her movements sharp with panic. "This will ruin everything, Ruaridh. Yer reputation among the lairds, yer standing with the crown?—"

"We’ll survive, if we handle this properly."

She whirled to face him, her hazel eyes wide with disbelief. "How can ye be so calm? The king believes Murray's lies over our truth!"

"Because panic serves nay one, least of all us." He moved toward her, his voice steady despite the storm building in his chest. "And because this might still be the opportunity we need tae expose him."

"Opportunity?" She stared at him. "How is facing royal accusations an opportunity?"

"Because now Murray has tae maintain his lies before the Highland Council, before witnesses who ken us both." Ruaridh reached for her hands. "Think, lass. He's gambled everything on forged letters and twisted truths. But we have something he daesnae—the real letter ye took from his study."

Terror flashed across her face. "Stand before the king's Council? Tell them I stole from Murray MacNab?"

"Tell them ye have proof of his real treason. That letter could vindicate us both."

She pulled away, wrapping her arms around herself. "What if they dinnae believe me? What if they think I forged it tae save meself?"

"They willnae, if ye tell them everything. The whole truth."

The words hung between them like a blade. Iona went very still.

"Everything that happened that night," Ruaridh continued gently. "The assault, why ye were in his study, how ye came tae take that letter. If ye present the complete truth before the Council?—"

"Then I'm admitting tae theft and exposing the most shameful moment of me life before half the Highland nobility."

"Ye're proving that Murray MacNab is the real traitor and that everything he's told the king is lies."

She was quiet for a long moment, wrestling with the decision. When she finally looked up, her face held the same determination that had made him fall in love with her courage.

"If I dae this," she said, voice trembling but resolute, "there's nay going back. Once I speak before the king's Council, Murray will never stop hunting us."

"He's already hunting us. At least this way, we have a chance tae end it."

"And if the Council sides with him anyway?"

Ruaridh studied her face, seeing the fear but also the steel underneath. "Then we'll face whatever comes. Taegether."

She took a shaky breath, then nodded. "Aye. I'll testify with ye. Tell them what I ken."

Relief and fierce pride flooded through him. "We leave tomorrow. We'll need time tae prepare before facing the Council."

As he left their chamber to begin preparations, Iona's voice stopped him at the threshold.

"Wait." Her hands twisted in her skirts. "Shouldn't we speak with yer parents first? They need tae ken what we're walking intae. And they'll have questions."

Ruaridh paused, his hand on the door latch. "More than questions. This affects the entire clan's standing with other lairds. They deserve tae ken the full truth before we drag the clan name intae a royal tribunal."

Twenty minutes later, they sat across from Alistair and Niamh in the laird's private study, the damning letter spread on the desk between them. The silence stretched taut as Alistair finished reading, his weathered face growing grimmer with each line.

"Sweet Mary," Niamh breathed, her hand pressed to her throat. "The king believes this? All of it?"

"Enough tae call a Highland Council," Ruaridh replied grimly. "Murray's been busy since we sent our letter. Somehow he's managed tae present evidence that makes Iona look like the real traitor."

Alistair set down the parchment with careful precision. "What kind of evidence?"

"We arenae sure, exactly." Ruaridh's jaw tightened. "Murray'll be clever with his lies."

"But surely the timing alone proves the accusations false," Niamh said, looking between them desperately. "Iona fled tae us because of Murray's assault. Why would she come here if she was truly guilty of treason?"

"Because," Alistair said slowly, his political mind already working through the implications, "Murray'll claim that's exactly what a clever traitor would dae. Flee tae a powerful clan and secure protection through marriage."

Iona felt her stomach lurch as the full scope of what Murray's manipulation could turn into.

"He'll find a way tae trap us," she whispered. "Every choice we've made, every step we've taken—he's found a way tae twist it intae evidence of guilt."

"Nae yet," Ruaridh said firmly. "We still have the truth on our side."

"The truth?" Alistair's voice carried a sharp edge. "Son, I need ye tae understand what this means fer our clan. If the Highland Council finds proof against ye, if they believe Murray's accusations?—"

"They willnae."

"But if they dae," Alistair continued relentlessly, "the MacDuff name will be tainted with charges of harboring traitors. Our alliances with other clans, our standing with the crown—all of it could be destroyed."

Silence fell over the study like a shroud. Iona could feel the weight of their stares, could sense the questions they weren't asking. Would it be better for the clan if she simply disappeared? If Ruaridh divorced her and claimed he'd been deceived?

"Faither," Ruaridh's voice cut through the tension like a blade, "are ye suggesting I abandon me wife tae save our political reputation?"

"I'm suggesting ye consider all the options before ye risk everything on?—"

"On what? On standing by the woman I married? On refusing tae let a bastard like Murray MacNab destroy an innocent person and several clans with lies?" Ruaridh rose from his chair, his green eyes blazing. "That's exactly what I intend tae dae."

"Ruaridh," Niamh said gently, "yer faither's nae saying ye should abandon Iona. But ye must understand the gravity of what ye're facing. If this goes badly?—"

"Then we'll deal with the consequences. Taegether." His gaze found Iona's across the room. "I'll nae sacrifice me wife tae appease political fears."

Warmth flooded through Iona's chest at his words, but it was quickly followed by crushing guilt. "Maybe... maybe Laird Alistair is right. Maybe it would be better fer everyone if I just left."

"Left?" Ruaridh turned on her, his voice sharp with betrayal. "And Let Murray win by default?"

"It would stop dragging yer family intae me troubles!" The words burst from her with more force than she'd intended. "Look at what I've brought tae this house—attacks, infiltrators, and now accusations of treason before the king himself. Maybe it's time I?—"

"Finish that sentence and I'll lock ye in this chamber until the Council convenes," Ruaridh said, his tone deadly serious. "Ye're me wife, Iona. That means we face this taegether, whatever comes."

The silence that followed was deafening. Outside the study windows, life at Castle MacDuff continued its normal rhythm, but inside this chamber, everything hung in the balance.

Finally, Iona spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. "Three days tae decide whether tae destroy meself with the truth or let Murray destroy us both with lies."

"Aye," Ruaridh said grimly. "Three days tae save everything we've built together."

Alistair cleared his throat gently. "Perhaps ye should take some time tae discuss this privately. Ye have three days tae prepare."

Later, back in their chamber, Iona sat frozen in her chair, her face pale as parchment, her hands trembling in her lap.

The dinner tray Ruaridh had requested sat untouched on the small table between them. He watched her until he could not stand it anymore. "Iona, look at me."

She raised her eyes to his, and he saw the terror there.

"It will be all right," he said quietly, his thumbs stroking across her knuckles. "Whatever happens, whatever ye decide about the letter—we'll face it taegether."

"Will we?" Her voice was barely a whisper. "Or will ye wake up one morning and realize yer Council was right? That marrying me was the greatest mistake of yer life?"

"Never." The word came out fierce, absolute. "Ye're the best decision I've ever made, lass. The only one I can never regret."

She pushed a piece of roasted fowl around her plate. Beside her, Ruaridh's own meal remained equally untouched, though he made occasional attempts to eat.

"Ye should try tae eat something," he said, noting her pale complexion.

"I cannae." She set down her fork with a soft clink. "Every time I try, I think about standing before all those lairds, having them look at me like I'm some common criminal."

Ruaridh pushed his own plate away and turned to face her fully. "Iona, listen tae me. Whatever happens at that Council, whatever they decide—it daesnae change who ye are. It daesnae change what we have."

"Daes it nae?" She met his eyes, her own bright with unshed tears. "If they declare me a traitor, if they order our marriage dissolved?—"

"Then we'll leave Scotland. Start over somewhere else."

"Ye'd give up everything? Yer clan, yer birthright, yer family?"

He reached for her hands again, his grip warm and steady. "I'd give up anything fer ye. But it willnae come tae that. We'll find a way through this."

Ruaridh could see that she wanted to believe him, but she still fought with uncertainty. "I hope so," she whispered.

But as Ruaridh held her in their chamber, a darker thought settled in his mind—one he couldn't voice aloud. If the Council went badly, if the political cost became too great, would Iona try to disappear rather than let him sacrifice everything for her?

He tightened his arms around her, as if he could keep her safe through will alone. Three days. They had three days to prepare for a battle that could cost them everything—including each other.

The thought of losing her, of waking to find her gone in some misguided attempt to save him, made his chest constrict with panic. Whatever happened at Stirling, he had to make sure she understood there was no version of his future that didn't include her in it.

Even if it meant losing everything else.