Page 52 of Devil Black

“And I say to you again—you did, once.”

“That was a long time gone.”

“So,” Lachlan tossed his head, “you mean to tell me you will never love again?”

“Never!”

“Never is a great span of time. I should think you might find yourself tempted by that bonny wife of yours, spirited as well as beautiful.”

“Oh, aye, I am tempted by her, all right.” Dougal laughed harshly. “But not into the trap of love. I know my own mind, Lachy, and ’tis made up.”

“Ah. I hope your sister is not equally stubborn. I have been trying to get her in my bed, but,” he added frankly, “though she will kiss and cuddle and tease, she will no’ commit to the act.”

“My sister, cuddle?” Dougal echoed incredulously. “Impossible!”

Lachlan grinned. “Grope and fondle, then. She has had her hands up my kilt more than once.”

“Spare my ears!” Dougal cried in agony.

“I thought if I offered her marriage—a better marriage than she last endured—with a man sincere in his affections—”

“You?” Dougal howled. “Sincere? The world must be ending.”

“I am desperate here, man. She has fair enchanted me. I would say or do anything!”

“The cry of man since the beginning of time. But, Lachy, that does no’ make you sincere.”

“I ken that, fine. Do you suppose Meg can tell?”

“I think it likely, since my sister is no fool.”

“Perhaps you are right,” Lachy admitted ruefully, “and wise to keep yourself free of all ties and so save yourself. ’Tis no fun, this, finding yourself at the mercy of—”

“Wait.” Dougal laid a hand on his friend’s arm, silencing him, and narrowed his eyes in an attempt to peer through the gathered gloom. “What is that?”

“Where?”

“There, in amongst the trees, and in the folds of the land. They are out there, Lachlan.”

“Who—?”

“But why did my guards fail to come and warn me?” Dougal felt a chill race up his spine, closely followed by a surge of anger. “Come on!”

“By the devil’s horns, Dougal, I do not—”

“MacNab has us surrounded,” Dougal shouted. “’Tis war now, and certain!”

Chapter Twenty-Two

“How many of your men are dead?” Isobel asked her husband, trying to sound calmer than she felt. Dougal and Lachlan had come in just at dark and she had gleaned the details of their situation in pieces: MacNab haunting their borders, lurking not quite beyond sight, attacking when he could and withdrawing again when Dougal himself rode out. The guard Dougal had assigned to patrol the perimeter had been slaughtered, the message clear.

She had never seen anyone wear the look now on her husband’s face, grim, stark, and blank with anger, enough to justify his name. He had not expected an attack so swift or stealthy. Unable to sit still, he paced before the fire in the great hall while Lachlan sat silent with his head in his hands, and Isobel, with Meg at her side, stood by.

“Four,” he answered in a voice rough with emotion. “Every man I sent out on this last patrol—their horses, as well.”

Meg swore bitterly, and her brother glanced at her. “Aye,” Dougal said, “he needs to pay. He will pay.”

Lachlan raised his head. “Aye,” he agreed in turn. “But MacNab has made his position evident, has he no’? Not a man comes or goes until your wife’s father arrives and this matter is settled. You do not ride out, I do not go home. You cannot even send a message to the King.”