Page 67 of The Highlander’s Defiant Bride

A howl of outrage tore from the Mackenzies.

Gunn’s fury ignited like oil on flame. “Then I’ll take what remains to me.” He jerked Destiny to her feet. “Bind her hands. We leave now.”

“Nay,” Destiny kicked and twisted, her voice rising in fierce defiance. “Hold, Foulis.”

Her cry sliced into Cameron like a blade. She was dragged towards the waiting horses, towards captivity, towards darkness, and he could only watch, his heart tearing in two.

Every instinct screamed at him to charge, to cut through the Mackenzies and haul her back into his arms. His men watched him, hands white-knuckled on their weapons.

But Cameron saw the trap. Saw the archers nock their arrows. Saw the outnumbered Munros. Saw the walls that would fall if he made the wrong move.

One order could destroy them all.

His throat felt carved from stone as he shouted across the field, “If you harm her, Gunn, the Munros will not be your only enemy. You will answer to the king himself for the bloodshed, for this treachery.”

Alexander only laughed, a cruel, hollow sound. “The king? He sits in comfort far from here. I care nothing for his judgement. I’ll kill his messenger if I must, and I’ll kill my daughter if it serves me.”

“Father, please,” Destiny’s voice cracked, filled with half fury, half anguish. “I am your daughter—”

“You are mine to use as I see fit,” he snarled, dragging her up onto his horse before him.

Cameron surged forward, but his men threw out their arms to stop him as Mackenzie archers drew their bows in unison. One more step and they would cut him down where he stood.

His heart pounded, torn between clan and wife.

Silence fell again, heavy, suffocating, as everyone waited for their laird to choose.

Gavan appeared at Cameron’s side, gripping his arm hard. “Let her go. We will find another way, Cameron, one that does not doom us all.”

Cameron’s grip on his sword tightened until the leather creaked.

And for the first time in his life, Cameron Munro faltered.

Beyond the walls, the Mackenzies jeered, their drums rolling like storm thunder as Destiny’s captors turned their horses north. Her gaze found Cameron’s, blazing, unbroken, even as she was wrenched away.

“Do not yield,” she cried one last time. “Trust me, Cameron.”

And then she disappeared into the morning, swallowed by the enemy’s lines, leaving Cameron standing on the ruined field with nothing but the echo of her voice and the crushing weight of the choice he had not been allowed to make.

Chapter Twenty-Two

The courtyard smouldered, smoke rising in thin trails from the battered gates and scorched timbers. Men staggered to the infirmary, their wounds bound hastily, while women knelt beside the fallen with whispered prayers. The night smelled of ash and blood.

Cameron stood at the centre of it all, sword still loose in his hand, his chest heaving. Torchlight burned hot against his skin, shadows shifting at the edges of his vision. His people, wounded, weary, frightened, looked to him, and he knew for the first time that they saw not only their laird but also a man who had just watched his wife taken from him.

“What now?” Gavan asked. His voice trembled as though he already feared the answer.

For a heartbeat, Cameron could not speak. The urge to order an immediate charge clawed at him, to tear through the darkness until he found her. But Destiny’s last words echoed in his brain, Do not yield. Trust me, Cameron.

He closed his eyes, forcing himself to breathe, to master the storm within.

When he spoke, his voice was iron. “We hold the walls. We do not break ranks. Scouts will shadow their camp, but no one moves without my word.”

There was a murmur of unease, but no one defied him. They needed his strength, even as grief hollowed him. He sheathed his sword with a hard snap and strode towards the keep. Only when the heavy doors shut behind him did the mask crack, leaving him alone with the truth.

He had let her be taken.

*