Page 48 of The Laird’s Vengeful Desire (The Highland Sisters’ Secret Desires #2)

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

“ M e laird, I urge ye tae think twice about what ye’re daein’!”

Tristan’s voice carried desperately across the courtyard as Ian strode toward the armory with deadly purpose, his face a mask of barely controlled fury.

Warriors scattered like leaves before a storm as their laird passed, recognizing the dangerous set of his shoulders and the way his hand rested readily on his sword hilt, as if he were already envisioning the carnage to come.

“I ken exactly what I’m daein’.” Ian replied without breaking stride, his voice cold. “I’m goin’ tae tear Lachlan MacPherson apart with me bare hands!”

“But the king–”

“Can go tae hell.” The statement cracked like a whip across the stone walls. Ian spun to face his trusted advisor, green eyes igniting with a furious rage that made Tristan take an involuntary step backward. “They took her, Tristan. They took Rhona.”

“I ken that me laird, but–”

“Dae ye?” Ian’s voice dropped to a whisper that was somehow more terrifying than any shout. “Dae ye truly understand what that means? What Lachlan will dae tae her?”

The images that flooded Ian’s mind were worse than any nightmare – Rhona’s big beautiful blue eyes wide with terror, her hands bound so tightly the ropes bit into her skin, her calling his name while some bastard dared to put his filthy hands on her…

the thought made Ian’s vision blur with an anger so pure, it was nearly blinding.

She gave herself tae me freely, he thought, the memory of their perfect afternoon the day before cutting through him like a blade, and now she’s payin’ the price fer me failure tae protect her.

“Killian!” Ian bellowed, his voice booming and echoing off the castle walls.

The grizzled captain appeared instantly, as if he’d been waiting for the summons. “Aye, me laird?”

“Gather the warriors. Full battle gear. We ride at nightfall.”

“How many, me laird?”

“All of them.” Ian’s smile was as sharp as a dirk and twice as dangerous. “Every last sword we can muster. We’re goin’ tae show MacPherson what happens when he steals from Clan Wallace.”

Killian’s hard face split into a grin that held no warmth, “Aye, me laird. It will be me pleasure.”

As Killian strode away, already shouting orders to the men, Tristan stepped closer once more, his voice urgent. “Me laird, ye have tae listen tae reason. The king’s letter specifically warned against military action. If ye march intae MacPherson territory with an army–”

“Then what?” Ian whirled around, the full force of his frustration finally boiling over.

“Ye think I should just… leave her there? Ye think I should sit idly in me solar, drinkin’ wine and playin’ politics while that despicable monster who calls himself me cousin daes God kens what tae the woman I love? ”

The admission quieted the air around them, settling like the rumble of thunder before a storm. Tristan’s eyes widened slightly – it was after all the first time Ian had spoken the word aloud, though everyone in the castle suspected the truth.

“Ye… love her.” Tristan said quietly.

“Aye.” The word came out rough, torn from somewhere deep in Ian’s chest. “I dae. More than me own life, and much more than me fear of the king’s displeasure. And I’ll be damned if I let Lachlan MacPherson destroy her because I was too much a coward tae act.”

“But if the Crown declares ye in rebellion–”

“Then so be it.” Ian’s voice carried the weight of absolute decision. “Some things are worth more than a king’s approval, Tristan. Some things are worth everythin’.”

Around them, Castle Wallace had erupted into controlled chaos as word spread. Warriors emerged from barracks and training yards, their faces grim with purpose. The ring of steel filled the air as weapons were sharpened, armor was checked and horses were saddled.

Young Callum appeared at Ian’s elbow, his face flushed with excitement and determination. “Me laird, the men are askin’ – dae we take prisoners?”

Ian’s smile was frosty and sharp. “Only if they can tell us where tae find Lady Rhona. Anyone who stands between us and her will taste Wallace steel.”

“Understood, me laird.”

“MacPherson’s camp is in the disputed borderlands, I’d wager me last coin ‘tis probably in that valley near Loch Awe, where he thinks he’s safe from royal interference.

” Ian’s mind was already racing through tactical possibilities.

“We’ll approach from the north, use the high ground tae our advantage.

Hit them fast and hard before they can organize a proper defense. ”

“What about sentries?”

“Killan, ye ken those lands better than any man alive. Ye handle the scouts.” Ian’s eyes held the cold gleam of a predator scenting blood. “By the time Lachlan realizes we’re there, it’ll be too late.”

“And if it’s a t trap? If he’s expectin’ ye tae come after her?”

Ian’s hand moved to his sword hilt, his fingers closing around the familiar grip with such intensity that his knuckles turned bright white. “Then he’ll learn that some traps catch more than the hunter bargained fer.”

A commotion near the gates caught his attention. A rider was approaching at full gallop, his horse lathered with sweat, dust coating his clothes. One of the scouts Ian had deployed just after Rhona had been taken, clearly bearing news that could not wait for normal channels.

“Me laird!” the man called out as he reigned his mount to a stop. “Word from the borderlands! MacPherson’s moved his camp from Loch Awe. He’s fortyifin’ a position near the old stone circle, three hours’ hard ride from here.”

Clever bastard.

The stone circle was on defensible ground, surrounded by rough terrain that would make a cavalry charge difficult. But it also had limited escape routes, which could work in their favor.

“How many men?”

“Hard tae say fer certain, me laird, but I counted at least sixty. Maybe more hidin’ in the woods.”

“And Lady Rhona?”

“She’s there, me laird. Saw her bein’ moved intae a tent near the edge of the camp. She… she looked unharmed, but angry as a wildcat.”

Relief flooded through Ian so powerfully his knees nearly buckled.

She’s alive. She’s fightin’ back.

That was all that mattered. “Good. Angry means she hasnae given up. She’s still our Rhona.”

Our Rhona.

The words felt right in a way that nothing else had these past months. She belonged there, with him, with his clan. And he’d reshape heaven and earth to bring her home.

“Killian!” Ian called out as his second-in-command approached. “Change of plans. We’re nae waitin’ fer nightfall. We ride now, while we still have daylight tae see their positions.”

“Aye, me laird. The men are ready.”

Ian looked around the courtyard, taking in the sight of his warriors – sixty-odd men armed to the teeth for warfare, their faces set with grim determination. Not a massive force by the standards of clan warfare, but every one of them battle-tested, every one of them loyal unto death.

It’ll have tae be enough, b ecause I’m nae leavin’ her there another moment longer than necessary.

“Mount up!” Ian’s voice carried across the space like a battle cry. “We ride fer MacPherson territory! We ride tae bring our Lady home!”