“Connor, I must tell—”
“My close bond with your brother has made ye forget that I am your chieftain,” he said, his voice like the deadly calm before a storm. “A marriage alliance is a complex matter. I asked for your good wishes, not your advice.”
“But—”
“Go!” he thundered and pointed to the door.
***
“Connor is still alive,” Hugh said. “Ye failed to kill him.”
Lachlan had suspected as much. He shrugged and glanced around the abandoned house Hugh was using as his base. It stank of dogs, unwashed men, and moldy rushes.
“And they say you’re the best,” Hugh said, his voice dripping sarcasm.
Lachlan met Hugh’s glare without showing any reaction. He had not done it for Hugh, and he did not give a damn what Hugh thought of him. A common enemy made them allies, but that did not mean he liked the man.
“Ye said ye got two arrows in him, yet I’m told he’s walking around as if nothing happened,” Hugh said.
“You’re perilously close to calling me a liar,” Lachlan said, moving a step closer. “Unless you’re certain that you’re better with a blade than I am, I suggest ye don’t.”
Hugh’s men, a motley bunch of clanless scum, began reaching for their weapons but stopped when Hugh threw his head back and laughed. What in the hell was amusing? Hugh’s unpredictability was one of the traits that made Lachlan mistrust him.
“You’re a tough son of a bitch.” Hugh tucked his thumbs in his belt and rocked back on his heels. “That’s what I like about ye.”
Hugh’s woman, Rhona, a curvy lass with dark hair, sauntered over and put her arm around Hugh’s neck. That lass was trouble, and no better than Hugh deserved. Whenever she thought Hugh was not looking, she gave Lachlan the eye. Rhona underestimated Hugh, a mistake Lachlan did not make. Hugh had a sly cleverness, and he did not miss much.
“Don’t worry, you’ll have another chance at Connor,” Hugh said. “Go to Trotternish Castle and offer him your sword.”
Lachlan nodded because he had already decided to do exactly that.
What troubled him was that the chieftain would require Lachlan to give his oath of loyalty, and it went against who he was to give a false oath. But sacrifices must be made. Killing the chieftain was a debt of honor, and this time he would complete the task.
“We’ll get rid of him together,” Hugh said, his eyes gleaming cold like a snake’s.
“I’ll tell ye again so that you’re sure to understand me.” Lachlan grabbed Hugh by the front of his tunic and pulled him up until they were nose-to-nose. “My dispute is with Connor, and Connor alone. I will do nothing that harms the clan.”
Lachlan felt the prick of Hugh’s dirk against his stomach.
“Keep your goddamned hands off me if ye want to leave here alive,” Hugh said.
Lachlan had made his point and released him.
“Give me warning when Connor is outside the safety of the castle walls,” Hugh said, “and my men will see to it that he never returns.”
“It had better be your men, such as they are,” Lachlan said, throwing a scathing glance at them before returning his gaze to Hugh. “If I find you’re dealing with the MacLeods, you and I will be enemies. I am not a good enemy to have.”
“Connor’s your enemy, not me,” Hugh said. “Deliver him, and we’ll both have justice.”
CHAPTER 6
Ilysa went up to her chamber to be alone to think. She groaned when she opened the door to find Deirdre there, being dressed by her maid.
“Have this laundered.” Deirdre stepped out of her gown and tossed it to Ilysa, without actually looking at her, as if she were a common servant. “It has a tear that needs mending.”
Ilysa could guess how it had torn. Her stomach hurt.
“Your mistress and I must speak in private,” she told the maid.