Page 21 of The Highlander’s Defiant Bride

“And while we wait,” Kenzie said darkly, “the Mackenzies will not sit idle. They will come for him and also our blood.”

A murmur of unease spread through the chamber. Days were dangerous things in the Highlands. Days invited rumours. Days invited raids.

Cameron inclined his head once. “I know.”

Destiny felt the weight of that single admission. He had already counted the cost.

“We hold the prisoner until he can travel,” Cameron repeated. “If he dies on the road, we gain nothing but suspicion. He must be returned whole, or not at all.”

“That gives them time,” Fergus said bluntly. “Too much time.”

Cameron’s jaw tightened. “Aye. Which is why we must use it better than they will.”

Destiny felt the familiar tightening in her chest, the sense that something was missing, that the plan, strong as it was, still left them exposed. She told herself to remain quiet. To observe, as Cameron intended. But as the debate circled, blood or ransom, threat or bargain, an idea took root in her mind, small but insistent. She bit her lip, fighting it back. She was not meant to speak. She was here to learn.

And yet . . .

Her father’s lessons came back to her. Clan alliances, the weight of honour, the value of appearances. If she said nothing, she was the silent bride at her husband’s side. If she spoke wrongly, she was a fool. But if she was right . . .

She drew in a careful breath. “Then do not let them believe we are waiting.”

The room stilled.

“If the Mackenzies think we intend to keep their son,” she continued carefully, “they will attack to reclaim him. If they think we mean to kill him, they will attack for vengeance.” She met Cameron’s gaze, her pulse steadying beneath his attention. “But if they believe we mean to send him back, and soon, they must hesitate. Even a proud laird will pause before risking his son’s life by striking first.”

“And how do you propose we convince them of that?” Alastair demanded.

Destiny swallowed. “Send word. Not a threat. Not terms. Only notice.” She chose her words with care. “Tell them their son lives. Tell them he is wounded but tended. Tell them he will be returned under truce once he is strong enough to ride.”

A low rumble moved through the room.

“They may not believe us,” Gavan muttered.

“They will,” Cameron said quietly, understanding dawning in his eyes. “Because if they strike while their son is in our care, every clan will know who broke faith first.”

He leaned forward, the decision settling into place. “We will send a messenger by nightfall. Neutral ground. No boasting. No demands.” His gaze swept the table. “If the Mackenzies attack before he is returned, they do so knowing their son’s life hangs in the balance of their own choosing.”

The room fell silent, not with doubt, but with grim acceptance.

“That buys us time,” Fergus said slowly. “Not safety. But time.”

“Time is all peace ever asks for,” Cameron replied.

There was grumbling, but the men bowed to Cameron’s decision. The meeting carried on, shifting to talk of borders and patrols, but Destiny barely heard it. She froze, warmth blooming through her chest.

For the first time since her arrival, she felt not like a pawn, but like a woman whose words carried weight. And it was Cameron, the man she had been forced to wed, the man she had sworn to resist, who had given her that place.

When the council eventually broke, Destiny remained seated, her heart still pounding, not with fear now, but with the weight of what she had stepped into.

Cameron rose and passed behind her chair, pausing just long enough to murmur, “You saw the danger before they named it.”

She looked up, startled.

“And you named the answer,” he added quietly. “You spoke well, wife.”

The words sent a flush up her throat. She told herself it was only surprise. But deep down, it was more. It was the warmth of being seen, respected. And that, she feared, was more dangerous than attraction.

The council chamber emptied, leaving only echoes of boots on stone. Destiny lingered near the wall, her hands clasped tight to keep them from trembling. She should have slipped away with the others, but something kept her rooted.