Chapter 18

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

W hen Castle MacAuley appeared in the near distance, Abigail almost fainted with relief. The only thing that kept her upright on the horse was the thought that if she fell off, she could get trampled by the creature and all her efforts would have been in vain. They had managed to get away from the Chattans with all the evidence they needed. They had managed to get Lachlan’s horse back. They even had decent clothes on their backs, which had arguably made the journey easier.

They were too close now for anything to get between them and victory.

The moment they were off the horse, Hugo handing the reigns to the stable boy, Domnhall, Billie, and Ellair all spilled out into the courtyard, summoned by the guards. Abigail had hardly taken a few steps before Billie rushed to her with a broken cry, pulling her into a tight embrace and refusing to let her go.

Abigail hugged her back, patting her shoulder gently in an attempt to comfort her. Billie clung to her with all her might, her grip crushing and constricting the flow of air into Abigail’s lungs, to the point where she had to gently extricate herself from it, taking a step back while keeping her hands on Billie’s shoulders.

“Where have ye been?” Billie asked before Abigail could say a single word. “We have been so concerned fer ye! Faither went almost mad with fear fer ye, Abigail! An’ Evangeline, we were all certain she would birth the bairn too soon an’ nae one kent where ye or Hugo were or what, precisely, happened tae ye an’… what did happen tae ye?”

Billie hardly drew in a breath while she spoke. Next to them, Domnhall was hugging Hugo, seemingly just as unwilling to let go of him as Billie was to let go of Abigail. When they did part, Domnhall was pale, his emotions spilling out unbridled.

Their absence had affected him, too, Abigail could tell. He and Hugo were not so much friends as much as brothers, brought together by circumstance but developing a bond that far surpassed that of friendship.

“Here,” Abigail said, as she pulled all the papers she had stolen from Niall’s study and handed them to Domnhall so he and Hugo could go through them together and alert everyone else. “I stole these from Niall.”

That seemed to be the last thing anyone expected to hear. The three of them looked at Abigail in disbelief, three sets of wide eyes focused on her as she spoke.

“What, precisely, dae ye mean when ye say ye stole these from Niall?” Ellair asked, taking a step forward to look at the papers over Hugo’s shoulder, while hugging him with his other hand.

“It’s a very long story,” said Abigail. “But I heard Niall an’ Finnian talk about a plan tae kill ye, Domnhall, an’ me faither an’ take control o’ the clans, so I pretended tae be kidnapped an’ then Hugo an’ I went tae Castle Chattan an’ stole these.”

No one spoke. Domnhall, Ellair, and Billie all stood frozen before them, looking at them both as though they were morphing into strangers right in front of their eyes. Then again, Abigail could hardly fault them for being so shocked. Had someone told her only a few weeks prior that she would be standing there with all that proof in her hands after stealing it from the enemy, she, too, would not have believed it, and yet fate had made it so that she had to become the kind of person brave enough—and perhaps foolish enough—to achieve such an impossible feat.

“That… alright,” said Domnhall, seemingly at a loss for words. He opened his mouth a few more times as if to speak, but in the end, he only threw his hands up in the air, giving up.

“Ye must be jestin’,” said Billie. “Abigail, tell me ye are jestin’.”

“I am nae jestin’.”

“The Chattans will come after us,” said Hugo, interrupting them. “And we must make sure we are ready for them. Is everyone else in Castle Robertson?”

“Only me faither, Cormac, an’ Keira,” said Billie. “Evangeline an’ Iain are in MacThomas Castle.”

Hugo nodded. “Good. That is good. It means we can defend all fronts at once.”

“Dae ye think they’re already on their way?” Ellair asked. “They must be.”

“I think Niall will take some time to gather troops properly and prepare a plan of attack,” Hugo said. Niall wasn’t an impulsive man, after all. His plans were well thought out and detailed, and Hugo doubted the man would do anything to endanger what power and wealth he had left.

“Then we have some time,” said Domnhall. “Just enough tae prepare ourselves.”

“Yes,” said Hugo. “But whatever we do, we must do it now.”

Domnhall walked with the speed and urgency of a storm through the castle, taking Hugo and Ellair to his study. Once there, he closed the door firmly behind them and then took a moment to rest his forehead against it, drawing in a few deep breaths.

When he turned around, his gaze was filled with fury.

“Dae ye nae see how foolish that was?” he asked Hugo. “Ye could have died! Both o’ ye, ye could have very easily died. Did ye truly think it was a good idea tae leave like that, without tellin’ anyone an’ lettin’ us all think somethin’ terrible had happened tae ye while ye infiltrated enemy territory?”

Domnhall was rightfully enraged, Hugo thought. He would have been, as well, had their roles been reversed, but there was little he could say to the man to calm him. He truly had no excuse. Even he knew he shouldn’t have done any of this without at least letting everyone else know of their plan.

“I know it was foolish,” he said, raising his hands up in surrender. “But Abigail was already on her way out of the room and I couldn’t let her leave on her own. I thought that if she was so set on her plan, then all I could do was follow her and make sure she was safe. And I did. We are both safe, Domnhall. We came back.”

“Have ye seen yer face?” Domnhall asked, pointing at all the injuries that had left Hugo bruised and scarred. He had hoped the worst of it would have faded by the time they got there, but he certainly didn’t look well enough. “What did they even dae tae ye? This isnae the result o’ a fight, Hugo.”

“You’re right,” Hugo admitted with a sigh as he came to sit in one of the plush chairs, letting his body sink into it. After so many days spent in unfamiliar surroundings, being in Domnhall’s study, with its familiar stone walls, the warm fire that burned continuously in the fireplace, the rich, dark furniture that was hidden under piles of papers and books, was like coming home. “It wasn’t a fight. They captured me and then Niall and Finnian tried to get information out of me. I told them nothing so… they did this.”

Domnhall rounded the desk and collapsed in his chair with a sigh, dropping all the papers on the desk as Ellair came to sit next to Hugo, remaining quiet. It was unwise, after all, to try to reason with Domnhall when he was in such a mood, and so both Hugo and Ellair gave him some time to calm down. Hugo sat there, watching his friend, but Ellair could not stop tapping his fingers rhythmically against the armrest, nervous and impatient.

In the end, Domnhall took a deep breath and leaned over the desk, looking at the two of them grimly. “We must prepare fer war,” he said. “The Chattans have been discovered an’ they willnae give up without a fight.”

“What dae these papers even say?” Ellair asked, reaching over to grab some of the documents and the letters. He scanned them quickly, his eyes rushing over the words, but understanding dawned on him quickly. “If these are true, the Chattans have lost all their wealth.”

“They’re true,” Hugo assured them. “And we must send them to the king. He was the one to ask for this marriage and I doubt he would have done so had he known the state of Clan Chattan.”

“But what if he does?” asked Ellair.

“He wouldnae,” Domnhall said, shaking his head. “Nay, he wouldnae dae that. He doesnae have any close relations with the Chattans. If anythin’, he would rather keep the Robertsons pleased.”

“Are ye sayin’ Niall has been lyin’ tae the king this entire time?” Ellair asked, eyes widening. “If that is true, then the king willnae be pleased.”

“An understatement,” said Hugo. “Niall will do anything he can to stop these documents from reaching the king, so we must send them along with a letter as soon as we can.”

“Who will write the letter?” asked Domnhall. “It must be someone the king trusts.”

“With all this evidence, I dinnae think it will matter,” said Ellair. He was still reading through the papers, only now they seemed to have most of his attention. “I cannae believe Abigail found all this.”

“There is a chance the king may think they are forged,” Hugo pointed out. “Perhaps if Niall gets to him first, he will manage to convince him. It is our job to get the documents to him before that happens.”

With a weary sigh, Domnhall pinched the bridge of his nose and held out his other hand for Ellair to pass him the papers. When he didn’t, Domnhall leaned over the desk and snatched them from his hands, taking his turn at reading them with a furrowed brow.

“I will call the council,” said Hugo. “And then we can make a plan of defense. When the Chattans come, we will be ready for them.”

“I will notify Laird Robertson an’ Iain,” said Ellair, already standing from his chair. “We dinnae ken if the Chattans will come here first. Perhaps they think ye returned tae Castle Robertson.”

“We’ll send scouts on the way,” said Hugo, standing up as well. “They can tell us where the Chattans are heading and we can plan accordingly.”

“Aye, dae that,” said Domnhall distractedly, his gaze never leaving the papers. After a few moments, he looked up at Hugo, giving him a firm nod. “Ye did a good job with this.”

Smiling, Hugo yanked the door open, all but sauntering out of it. “Oh yes,” he said. “I know.”

By the time Domnhall’s book flew through the air in retaliation, aiming for Hugo’s head, he was already gone.