The Chief Read online

“You still have a few hours, then. Join me in my solar. I think we can have this matter settled to everyone’s satisfaction.”

  “It’s already settled.”

  The old warrior quirked a bushy gray brow. “Is it?”

  Tor held the other man’s gaze, clenched his jaw, and followed him into the small room off the Great Hall. His host deserved an explanation.

  He assumed the less formal setting of the solar, rather than the council chamber, was an attempt by MacDonald to avoid the appearance of judgment. Tor wasn’t surprised to see the other men already seated around the small table. It was the same group who had tried to persuade him to join with Bruce: Lamberton, Campbell, MacSorley, and, of course, Fraser.

  “In light of recent events,” MacDonald started once he’d sat down, “I hope you will consider our original offer.”

  Tor turned a cool, challenging gaze on Fraser. “Nothing has happened to change my mind.”

  Fraser struggled to control his temper. “Nothing except that you’ve ruined my daughter,” he sputtered.

  Lamberton frowned. “Is this true?”

  Though Tor knew that under the circumstances an explanation was in order, he wasn’t used to being questioned—or being put on the defensive. It was a position he found he did not enjoy. “I took her maidenhead. It’s her father, however, who did the ruining.”

  Fraser flushed angrily.

  Campbell gave Fraser a puzzled look. “What’s he talking about?”

  When the other man didn’t say anything, Tor said, “Why don’t you ask him how his daughter came to be in my room?” He was interested in hearing that himself.

  Lamberton’s eyes narrowed on Fraser. “What’s he suggesting, Sir Andrew? Did you send your daughter to his room?”

  All eyes were on Fraser now, and it was clear he didn’t like it. “How my daughter came to be in his room is immaterial. Anyone could see that he wanted the lass. I merely gave him the opportunity; I did not force him to ravish her.”

  The other men stared at Fraser with varying levels of disgust, but Lamberton was outraged. He was a churchman not just in office but also in conviction—which wasn’t always the case. “Your own daughter? How could you have used the lass like that? The poor girl must have been terrified.”

  Tor didn’t like hearing that any more than Fraser did.

  “None of this matters,” Fraser said angrily. “If he had any honor he would offer for her, accept the alliance, and join forces with us. A knight would—”

  Tor leaned forward and grabbed the man by the throat. He’d had about enough of Sir Andrew Fraser. “I’m not a damned knight,” he said in a deadly voice. “That’s the very reason you want me to lead your team. I don’t play by your rules or codes. I do what needs to be done to win. Kill or be killed—that’s my code.”

  He held Fraser like that for a long moment, then tossed him away with a grunt of disgust.

  Only the sound of Fraser’s sputtering broke the silence. It was the truth, and they all knew it. After a moment, MacDonald turned to the other men and said, “Leave us.”

  Fraser looked as if he wanted to argue, but Lamberton stopped him. “I think you’ve said enough.”

  When the room had emptied of all but the two of them, MacDonald studied Tor appraisingly, and then gave him a wry smile. “You’re right, of course. Though Lowlanders aren’t used to such blunt speaking. The reason they’ve come to us is not just because there are no better fighting men in Christendom, but also for our less than ‘knightly’ style of warfare. But just because they think we fight like savage pirates doesn’t mean we are. We might not live by the knightly code, but honor isn’t reserved for knights.” He chuckled. “Even Highlanders have a line, and though I think you don’t like it, you know you’ve come up against yours.”

  Tor met the other man’s gaze but didn’t say anything, his expression giving no hint of his thoughts. MacDonald was right, damn him. As much as Tor hated it, he couldn’t escape the sensation of a noose tightening around his throat.

  In theory he knew he was right to reject the alliance, but it did not ease the weight on his conscience. He’d taken her, damnation—rather crudely, too. It was no more than she deserved. But did she have to look so ridiculously vulnerable?

  His jaw locked as images of her face assaulted him. Pleading. Scared. Horrified when she realized he had no intention of offering for her.

  Anger and outrage surged inside him. Damn her for putting him in this position. Damn the whisky. Damn his own mindless reaction to her.

  “I may not condone Fraser’s methods,” MacDonald said, “but he’s right; no one compelled you to accept his wee gift.”

  “I didn’t know who it was. I thought you sent a woman to me.” He didn’t offer it as an excuse, but as an explanation.

  MacDonald nodded. “Ah. I wondered. And the lass said nothing?”

  Tor shook his head. Not until it was too late, at least. He stood up and paced across the room, knowing that if he had to sit there another moment he’d break something. The loss of composure only added to his anger. Finally, he turned back around to meet the older man’s gaze. “I’ll be damned if I’ll be forced into a marriage that is of no benefit to my clan by trickery and deceit.”

  “If you refuse to marry the lass, you’ll make an enemy of Fraser and his family.”

  “And Bruce as well, you mean.” Choosing sides, exactly what he’d sought to avoid.

  MacDonald shrugged. “You know Lowlanders. They have codes. Rules. You took the lass’s virginity; you are honor bound to marry her. End of discussion.” MacDonald leaned forward. “But, I think I have a solution that may solve all our needs.”

  Tor crossed his arms. “I’m listening.” Reluctantly.

  “Fraser may have been overzealous, but we all want the same thing: for you to train and lead this team of elite warriors. What I’m suggesting is a compromise. Train the men for a few months—someone else can lead them. You can do so in secret, and no one need be aware of your involvement. You will stay outwardly neutral and not draw the ire or scrutiny of King Edward and MacDougall.”

  “Unless someone discovers what I’m doing. Why would I want to risk it?”

  MacDonald smiled. “Because it will benefit your clan to do so. If you agree to train the guard, I will appease Nicolson.”

  Tor stilled. MacDonald had caught his attention. “How?”

  “My youngest son needs a bride. I will see to it that he’s betrothed to Nicolson’s second daughter.”

  Tor raised his brow. MacDonald must want him more than he realized for him to give Nicolson such a prized alliance.

  It would work. Nicolson would have to accept. Staving off war with Nicolson was the reason he came, and MacDonald was handing it to him. But it wasn’t enough—it would only exchange one problem for another. “What you are suggesting solves only half the problem. If I marry Fraser’s daughter, I will have appeared to ally myself with the family—and with Bruce.”

  MacDonald smiled. “Actually, thanks to Fraser’s treachery, it will be just the opposite.”

  “How is that?”

  “Rumors are already flying around that you ravished the lass. When you marry, it will only validate the rumors. Fraser will understandably be furious and you will appear to be enemies. Not such a stretch, I would imagine.” He chuckled. “It won’t look like an alliance, and no one will suspect you are working for Bruce.”

  Outwardly maintaining his neutrality.

  “I’m not usually known as a despoiler of innocent maids,” Tor said wryly.

  MacDonald snorted a laugh. “We’ll let it be known that you were besotted. That you fell in love and when the lass’s father refused you, you took matters into your own hands.” MacDonald’s eyes twinkled with mirth, guessing how much the idea of sounding like a lovesick fool appealed to him. “Didn’t your brother recently do the same?”

  Tor grimaced. “No one who knows me will believe it.”

  “The lass is exquisite, and every man