Page 49 of Bound to Her Highland Lord
James asked the question, having clearly stepped into the role as Captain of the Guard and was taking his job quite seriously.
“Each lord has a different number. It will take a fair bit of explaining,” Oliver said by way of answer. “
“We can discuss the numbers later,” Lachlan cut in, cold fury etched into his face. “I want to ken what their plan is first. How was he able to convince so many to join him? What did he claim? What did he promise them?”
Oliver couldn’t blame them for the grueling questions. It had taken more than a few minutes for them to even allow Oliver into the war room to see their maps and plans. Had he been inLachlan’s position, Oliver knew he would have reacted much the same, if not worse.
Should his own lands ever be under attack, he would do everything he could to ferret out as much information as he could gather. He would want the chance to create the strongest strategy he could. And so, he was content to give every last morsel of intelligence on the Baron’s plans to Lachlan. He would stay and answer as many questions as he could for as long as they would let him.
“A conquest,” Oliver answered simply. “The Baron has made claims that the Scottish Lairds are savages, uncultured and dangerous to the English way of life. He has laid the blame for raids and attacks—no doubt committed by his own people—at your feet.”
“I dinnae understand,” Aila muttered, more to herself than anything, but Oliver replied all the same.
“This is not about reclaiming land for Dudley. He is not trying to increase his farmlands or tenants. I honestly do not even think this is about coin for him. He merely wants to prove that he has the muscle to stage an attack of this magnitude and win.”
His words hung in the air between them all for a long, tense moment.
“He wants all of Scotland to himself. He will start with your lands, Kincaid. And then when he has comfortably established himself here, he will start invading the rest of the lowlands.”
“How can he do that?” Aila cried out.
“He has the numbers for it,” Oliver answered solemnly.
“Tell me,” Lachlan demanded, his voice low.
The Laird had his arms braced on the desk, his shoulders taut, as if he were bracing for a lash of pain. Oliver couldn’t blame him. In more than one way, that was exactly what he was doing.
As quickly and as factually as he could, Oliver shared the run-down of the numbers that he had last seen. He listed out the hundreds of archers and cavalry men, the thousands of foot soldiers. He detailed Dudley’s favored battle strategies and the maps Oliver had glimpsed during his short stay at the Baron’s estate. When he had given every last shred of information, when he had exhausted his memories and insight, he stood silently.
Lachlan sat at the head of the table, his hands still braced on the table, while James was already peering at the maps again, moving the figures of men around where he thought they would be most useful. Aila had her eyes squeezed shut, wringing her hands as she muttered to herself. Sorcha had turned her back to him, offering comforting words to Taryn, rubbing soothing circles on her friend’s back.
He had done this. Or, at the very least, his words had created the gloomy haze that shrouded the room. No one would so much as look his way.
Once again, he was reminded that he was the outsider here. It had been Sorcha’s ultimatum that got him into the room. She was the only person present to remotely trust him. Everyone else had listened to him only because he was offering something they needed. And now that he had completed the task, they had no need or want of him. It couldn’t be more clear that he was standing in front of a family, united and firm. One that didn’t include him.
“If we position our foot soldiers here…” James suggested in low tones.
Lachlan’s eyes darted up to Oliver and then back to the maps. He didn’t need to say a single word. Oliver had heard the message loud and clear—he was to be treated as a spy. They saw him as little else. Despite all he had shared about the Baron’s vile plans, they still believed him capable of double-crossing them.
He didn’t know how to convince them that betraying their trust, betraying Sorcha’s trust, was simply impossible for him.
As James went on, proposing one plan after another, Oliver drew further into the shadows. Slowly, the others joined in the conversation, offering their insights as they recalibrated their strategies. No one looked his way again.
His work was done. Now all he could do was return home and protect his own people. Oliver left the room on silent feet, the door clicking quietly behind him.
18
BEFORE THE HORNS BLEW
“Where did Oliver go?”
“If he kens what is best for him, the stables and then back to his own land,” Lachlan said dryly.
Sorcha sighed as she pushed back from the table. She stared down at all her friends with a weariness that reached into her bones.
“I meant what I said. I trust Oliver with my life. I trust him with yer lives. If ye can nae see the man he truly is, if ye cannae believe that I have nae been fooled by a bonny face, then perhaps I should leave with him.”
When no one dared to answer her, she left the room, content to let them all stew over plans of war.
