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I’ve done it again. I’ve messed up.

De Bourgh took a long black whip in one hand and slapped the palm of his other hand. “You will tell me everything.”

“Ye dirty toads,” Owen growled.

MacDougall threw his arm back and slammed his fist into Owen’s face. Bone-crushing pain exploded in his cheekbone. Another blow landed on his jaw. James Baker held Owen by the shoulders like he were just a sack of meat.

Owen had to give it to MacDougall, he was still a powerful man, even though he was much older now. The third blow landed on Owen’s temple, an expert hit meant to bring real damage.

It plunged Owen into darkness.

He woke up without opening his eyes. De Bourgh’s and MacDougall’s voices rang in his head as they argued.

They were some distance away, but he was still in the torture chamber. His head ached as though split in two. Bile rose in his stomach. He was lying on something hard.

“He said five thousand men,” de Bourgh said.

“Do ye believe him?” MacDougall asked.

“It would certainly explain his rapid success in the east. How he got rid of all Comyns, how he got Earl of Ross to sign a peace treaty…”

“Aye. If ’tis true, the situation is worse than I feared. The peace treaty the Bruce signed with us ends in two sennights. After that, he will come for us.”

“Which is why we need to do something drastic.”

“Aye. Listen. He has Highlanders who ken the territory well. But so do I. Let’s use his weapon against him. Let’s surprise him in Lorne. I suggest we repeat the successful strategy we used at the Battle of Dalrigh. We took him by surprise and completely destroyed his forces. I will have my men and yer men hide in the hills by the Pass of Brander. We can use galleys to cross Loch Awe so that he doesna see us coming. We can use the terrain against him—something he’d been doing so well against ye.”

Owen’s breath caught in his chest. Mayhap he hadn’t messed up after all. If he could get this information to the Bruce, they had a real chance to stop de Bourgh and the MacDougalls and turn the tide of the war.

But first he had to get out of here alive.

Chapter 11

A weak metallic clank woke Amber up. Her heart drummed hard against her rib cage. She listened for footsteps, but none came. Had she imagined the noise?

She’d been so worried about Owen when they took him, but she was too exhausted and had dozed off eventually. What condition would they bring him back in? Would Jerold Baker flog him, too? Worse? How would she be able to care for him if she could barely stand?

She was lying on her side and pushed herself up to sit. The movement made the undertunic Muireach had brought her slide across her back and rub against her cuts. Pain radiated through her body, but the cold air was welcomed against her feverish skin. Her jeans were loose now. When was the last time she’d felt full?

She wondered how much time had passed since they took Owen away. She missed her watch, the one her mom helped her fix.

Amber remembered the scent of her mom’s chocolate chip cookies and mint tea. Her melodic southern accent. Her soft, gentle hands on Amber’s forehead when she was ill. Amber had loved the girls’ days she and her mom spent together while her dad and brothers played ball.

She remembered her mom washing hair straightener from her hair, and after that, leaning over the kitchen table together, examining the insides of the antique watch spread out on their white tablecloth. They’d read a book on clock mechanics and studied the tiny wheels and barrels with curiosity.

She’d asked her mom why she didn’t throw the watch out, but her mom had just held the tweezers in her long black fingers and picked up a tiny barrel and set it in its right place.

“I can’t bring myself to do that. Your grandfather gave it to me when I married your dad,” she’d said, her dark eyes shining and dampening from the memory. “He bought it with his first profits from the barber shop he opened in New Orleans. He said it was a family heirloom, and I should give it to my firstborn son.” She’d handed the tweezers to Amber, her slightly darker fingers brushing against Amber’s. “You try, hon.”

“But you haven’t given it to Jonathan.”

“I did,” her mother told her. “That’s why it keeps breaking. He has no interest in it. I think it’s so fascinating, how it all works, the mechanics of it. I wish I’d followed my dreams and become an engineer. Don’t make my mistakes, Amber. Do what you want to do with your life. Don’t allow men to define you.”

Amber knew her mother loved her father, but she’d also understood what her mom meant. Her father was a rock, dependable and strong. But he could also be stubborn, controlling, and fixated on his beliefs.

Her mom had given her the family heirloom, and that was where her fascination with mechanics had begun. She’d loved looking at the watch. It had brought her a sense of peace and control, as well as a connection to her mom. When she’d lost it while out on an operation in Afghanistan, she’d been crushed.

Now, not knowing how many days had passed since they’d been brought here, how many minutes or hours since the guards had taken Owen, made her stomach squeeze with anxiety.