Page 47 of Taming the Highland Beauty

Callum released a ragged breath and looked around him. There were no holes in the castle wall, no damage to the gate. “How did you get into the castle?”

The lieutenant shrugged. “Your own people opened the gates for us.”

“Nay. Our people are loyal.” Callum’s eyes narrowed.

“One of them was more than happy to take the gold I offered.”

“Describe them,” Callum demanded, his voice low and menacing.

The lieutenant remained silent until Callum lifted his sword, threatening to strike. “Long white hair, blue eyes. An odd-looking man, wearing a green tunic with leaves embroidered around the edges.” He frowned. “Or were they real leaves? Hard to tell. It all happened so fast. Said he wanted to do whatever he could to stop Gille from her task.”

Callum’s blood ran cold. Oberon. That traitor. The fairy king had meddled in MacLeod affairs for the last time. He would pay for his crimes. But even as he vowed revenge, Callum could not help but feel a sense of despair. Would the fairy realm never stop meddling in the lives of the MacLeods? Callum tried to rekindle the hatred he once had for the fae, but the feelings remained out of reach.

His anger at the English lessened as his thoughts shifted to Gille. Oberon had done this to stop her from succeeding. And every moment he spent here, with this Englishman, meant the fairy king was that much closer to his goal.

“If you have no objection, I will gather my men and depart,” the lieutenant said, stepping away from Callum.

“Not so quickly. Your duties here are far from over,” Callum replied. “A British warship will soon be approaching our coast. You must convince them to withdraw.”

The lieutenant’s eyes widened. “Me? How?”

Callum shrugged. “With your life on the line, I trust you will devise a plan, and swiftly.” Without waiting for a response, Callum led the lieutenant across the courtyard to where Alastair was speaking with Graeme.

“Ensure the English retreat,” Alastair instructed. “If necessary, follow them to their horses. Afterwards, we must tend to the wounded and the fallen.”

“It will be done,” Graeme replied, his face hardening with determination. He hurried past Callum and the lieutenant to attend to the task.

Alastair’s gaze, filled with anger, fixed on the lieutenant. “I trusted you.”

“Your trust was misplaced,” the lieutenant replied, straightening. “We are, and always will be, enemies until your country acknowledges King George as the rightful sovereign.”

“Politics belongs in the courts,” Alastair retorted. “Right now, my people’s well-being takes precedence. The ones you attacked.” His gaze narrowed. “How did you breach these walls?”

“It was Oberon,” Callum explained. “He allowed the English to pass through the gates.”

Alastair’s anger intensified, tightening his jaw. “We will first deal with the English, then it is time to end Oberon’s meddling in our lives.”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than the air was torn asunder by a thunderous roar. The earth trembled beneath their feet. On the opposite side of the castle, a cloud of dust and debris soared into the sky.

“The English warship is attacking from the coastline,” Alastair said, his face suddenly pale.

“You might have stopped me and my men, but there are thirteen other regiments in Scotland at present and more arriving every day.” Lieutenant Gilbert gave Alastair a smug smile. “Unfortunately, the MacLeods have also caught the attention of the British navy.”

The thunderous boom of another cannonball striking the curtain wall was followed by a deafening silence, broken only by the frantic beating of Callum’s heart. He turned to Alastair. “What should we do?”

Alastair drew a ragged breath as the castle doors flung open and a torrent of terrified people poured into the courtyard seeking safety. The air was thick with smoke and dust as cries of distress mixed with panicked shouts. Some ran towards the nearest hiding places, while others fled past the English soldiers and out the open gates, hoping to escape the wrath of the English invaders at the coastline.

Alastair motioned for Tormod. When his brother came to his side, he said, “Take this man to the loch and see if there is anything he can do to prevent further damage to the castle and our people.”

“I have no power over the captain of that ship,” Lieutenant Gilbert said. “We will only end up blowing ourselves up along with your castle.”

Tormod reached for his dagger and pressed it against the lieutenant’s back. “You had better start thinking of a way to intervene.” When Alastair turned back towards the castle, Tormod asked, “Where are you going?”

Alastair paused and turned back. “To do something I never wanted to do.” His features were taut, pained. “Our sanctuary is no longer safe. If I do not stop that warship, there will be nothing left of Dunvegan or our clan.”

Callum nodded, feeling a sudden sympathy towards his brother. He could no longer play the role of diplomat. And while Alastair was forced to solve the situation with the English as only a laird could, Callum would go to Gille. He had to reach her before either the English or Oberon did.

Chapter Twenty