The Chief Read online

  Sensing the importance, Torquil sobered, becoming every bit as serious and focused as Tor. “What is it?”

  “I’m going to banish you and your new bride to the Isle of Lewis, where you can keep an eye on Malcolm and Murdoch until I find out who is behind the recent attacks and finish training the men. If anyone discovers my involvement, I want to know that my sons are safe.”

  Torquil’s expression darkened dangerously. “You think someone would hurt them?”

  “I won’t take any chances.”

  “Who?”

  Tor laughed. “I’ve made plenty of enemies over the years. Not to mention our longtime nemeses like the MacRuairis.”

  “Bastards.” Torquil spat, his expression black. His brother hated them as much as Tor did. He wished he could tell Torquil about having Lachlan MacRuairi under his thumb, but he had to keep the men’s identities secret. “There is also your new father-in-law to consider, and MacDougall.”

  “And if you and I are thought to be on the outs—”

  “It will help protect them from my enemies,” Tor finished. “Though I hope it won’t be necessary.” He gave his brother a wry smile. “I’m afraid it also means your bride is going to have the ‘wrong’ impression of me.”

  Torquil winced. “You’re going to make it look bad, are you?”

  “It shouldn’t be too difficult, given that it is no more than you deserve. But you can’t tell her the truth.” Torquil started to argue, but he cut him off. “I’ll not risk it. Besides, it would be more dangerous for the lass.”

  “She’ll be furious when she finds out I’ve deceived her.”

  “Better furious and safe. Consider it a direct order.” Something he knew his brother could not refuse. “Do this for me and I might only chop off parts your young bride might not miss so much.”

  Torquil laughed but quickly sobered. “I’m sorry, brother. I know I’ve caused you trouble. If there had been another way, I would have taken it. You have my word that I will do what I can to make it up to you.”

  Tor nodded. “Aye, you will. But it’s not only me who will exact payment. MacDougall wants payment for the broken betrothal. Half the lass’s tocher.”

  Torquil swore. “MacDougall can suck my—”

  “Do not underestimate John of Lorne. He’s a bastard, but a crafty one. My marriage has given him all the ammunition he needs to try to bend me to his knee.”

  “What will you do?”

  Tor shook his head. “Hope that something happens between now and January to prevent me from having to formally decide. This is Scotland’s war, not ours.”

  He’d worked his whole life to bring his clan to a state of prominence and prosperity; making the wrong choice in this war could sink them back into darkness and undo all that they’d achieved. But he knew the winds of rebellion were growing stronger. War was coming, even to the Isles, and Tor could feel the noose tightening around him.

  His brother understood. “To hell with Edward of England and Robert Bruce. What do they know about the Isles?”

  “Enough to know that they need us to win,” Tor said, admitting, “which is more than they knew before.”

  The rain started to come down harder. “Come,” he said. “I should like to meet the lass who has caused so much trouble, though I doubt she will be happy to meet me when she hears what I have to say.”

  He was right. Torquil’s bride had spirit; he’d give her that. The wee firebrand looked like she wanted to take his bollocks off with the spoon she was waving at him. He’d made one concession, allowing them to wait until morning to leave the castle because of the storm. Under different circumstances he might have actually welcomed Meg Nicolson as a bride for his brother—if only to enjoy seeing his fierce brother brought to his knees by a woman. Poor bastard.

  Leaving the Hall behind him, Tor opened the door to the corridor, knowing that he couldn’t put this off any longer. He needed to see his wife.

  His brother’s words had bothered him more than he wanted to admit. Did Christina love him? Selfishly, he’d felt a moment of primitive satisfaction. On a base level he wanted her love—her devotion. He wanted her for himself.

  But he also knew it would only hurt her when he couldn’t give her what she wanted in return. He wasn’t his brother.

  Duty. Clan. War. They all came first. But he also couldn’t deny what Torquil had pointed out: Christina had gotten under his skin in a way no woman had before. He wanted to please her. To make her happy.

  As he approached her chamber, he noticed a sliver of light ebbing from beneath the door to his solar. He frowned, wondering who would be up this late in his private room. Brother John? He always seemed to be scurrying about. Tor knew it was unreasonable, but he’d taken a strong dislike to the new clerk. When Rhuairi had noticed an error in the accounts, Tor had told him to keep an eye on the unassuming young churchman, half hoping to find a reason to get rid of him. But the seneschal had not found anything else, and Tor, who’d been paying more attention to the translations of his correspondence, hadn’t either. Still, for a churchman, the clerk spent too much bloody time with his wife.

  He opened the door, surprised to find not the clerk but Christina.

  She startled at the sound, jumping to her feet when she saw him, scattering pieces of parchment that must have been in her lap across the floor. “You’re back!”

  The obvious delight in her voice chaffed against his gnawing guilt. Guilt he had no reason to feel. He was doing his duty. Seeing to his responsibilities. He couldn’t be at her beck and call all the time. But in truth, he’d missed her. Every moment he was away. She was making him soft…weak, and that was something he could not afford.

  He scanned the table in front of her, noticing the ink and hastily dropped quill, the open ledgers, the stacks of papers, the dark smudges on her hands, and even one on her cheek. “What are you doing in here?”

  He knew what it looked like she was doing, but it didn’t make sense. He pinned her with his gaze, seeing the flush creep up her cheeks.

  She bit her lip, tucking her dark hair behind the delicate pink shell of her ear. “I wanted to surprise you.”

  Apparently, it was exactly how it appeared. He looked at her again. Closer this time. Surprised by what he saw—or had failed to notice. “You know how to read and write.”

  She nodded and took a few steps toward him, her delicate face lit with excitement. “I’m not finished yet; I wanted it to be perfect. I know how busy you’ve been and I wanted to find a way to help, so I’ve been putting the accounts in order. They were a mess.” She waved her hands, her mouth pulled into a broad smile. “Surprise!”

  He didn’t know what to say. To say he was taken aback was an understatement. Such learning was rare in the Highlands for a man, let alone a woman. Keeping track of the accounts was no simple task. Was this the reason for the errors Rhuairi had found? He frowned. “Why have you kept this a secret from me?”

  Her face fell; obviously, his reaction was not what she’d hoped for. But what did she expect, when he’d walked in not only to discover she’d been keeping a rather big secret from him, but also to find her knee deep in his private business matters? Lord only knew what a mess she could make of things.

  “I wanted to surprise you. To show you that I can help.”

  Knowing how sensitive she was, he pressed his lips together, trying to control his temper. “This is not a game, Christina,” he said patiently. “You are interfering with important clan matters. Matters that I told you to leave be.”

  “I was only trying to help. I saw an error in the ledgers, and with MacDougall’s recent visit, I knew that I had to do something.”

  “I have clerks to keep the books. It’s not your place.” He tried to speak gently. “You are my wife. If you found something wrong, you should have brought it to my attention.” He flipped around one of the ledger books, his gaze traveling down the neatly aligned columns.

  She straightened her back, her gaze challenging. “Y