Chapter 25

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

T he news of Abigail’s and Hugo’s engagement had quickly spread through the castle—perhaps because Abigail herself rushed to tell Billie, too eager to reveal the news to her sister to wait for even a moment. In the days that followed Hugo’s proposal, they were both bombarded by well-wishes, people stopping them wherever they went to express their joy at their upcoming marriage.

Abigail would be lying if she said she didn’t love it. Ever since she had been a young girl, she had dreamt of it, for the day that she would find her perfect match, and now that day had finally come.

There was, of course, the matter of Finnian, but Abigail refused to believe that they would lose against him and his brother. They had all the proof they needed to go against him.

A soft rain pattered against the windows of the drawing room as Abigail, Billie, and Domnhall had their tea there. Even then, Domnhall was absorbed in his work, going through a stack of papers he had brought with him from his study, his eyes scanning the documents and his hand scribbling quick, almost entirely illegible notes on the margins. Abigail and Billie spoke softly so as to not disturb him. Domnhall could have retreated to his study, of course, if he wanted peace and quiet to work, but Abigail knew why he was there instead; with all the council meetings and the added duties now that the clan was so close to a war, he barely had any time to be near Billie and so he took any opportunity he could to spend even an hour with her.

It was so sweet that Abigail couldn’t help but chuckle in amusement as she stole a glance at Domnhall. She was glad that Billie, much like Evangeline and Keira, had found a man who adored her so much.

“Has he written tae faither yet?” Billie asked, taking a sip of her tea. “I’m sure he will be more than happy tae agree tae the marriage, but he should write tae him soon.”

“He has,” Abigail assured her sister. “Though he wrote him he would rather ask fer me hand in person. He doesnae think a letter is enough fer such a request.”

“Did he?’ Billie asked, eyebrows raised in surprise. “Well, that is very noble o’ him.”

From where he sat across the low table, Domnhall snorted, drawing Billie’s glare to him in an instant. “What is so funny, husband?”

Domnhall’s laugh was cut short as he looked at Billie over his documents. “Naething.”

Though Billie remained silent, her gaze never wavered from Domnhall. He tried to look away a few times, but Abigail saw how he simply couldn’t ignore his wife’s glare, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

“I simply never thought this day would come fer Hugo,” he said with a sigh.

“Well, it came fer ye, did it nae?” Billie asked, her lips stretching into a smug smile.

“Och aye,” said Domnhall, his own smile fond and soft. “It did.”

Before Abigail could tease them both for acting like a pair of lovesick children, footsteps rapidly approached the drawing room and all three of them turned to face the door. A guard soon appeared there and entered the room with a hasty bow before walking over to Domnhall to hand him a letter he clutched in his hand.

“The messenger just arrived, me laird,” the guard said. “He said this was tae be delivered tae ye.”

Curious, Abigail leaned closer to take a peek at the letter. From where she stood, she could see little other than the seal that held it together—a seal she and everyone else around her instantly recognized.

Stunned, she exchanged a glance with Billie and Domnhall, who held the letter gingerly in his hand as though he feared it would explode. He made no effort to open it; he only swallowed drily, his gaze falling back onto the paper.

“Why are the Chattans sendin’ us a letter?” Billie voiced the one thought all three of them shared in that moment.

Domnhall tore the letter open. He read it silently, his lips only mouthing the words as his eyes flitted over them, as Abigail and Billie waited to hear its contents, their breaths cut short. It didn’t take him long to finish reading. It was a short letter, and in Abigail’s mind, a short letter could only be bad.

If they wanted to negotiate, then surely, they would have written more—though Abigail couldn’t begin to imagine what they would even want to negotiate. They knew they were in a dire position. There was little they could do to save themselves if the king ever got word of their actions.

Slowly, Domnhall folded the letter and placed it in his pocket. His face had turned pallid, all the color draining from his skin within mere moments, and it was then Abigail knew for certain that something terrible had happened.

Billie seemed to sense it, as well. “What is it?” she asked, standing from the couch to walk over to her husband. Her eyes were wide, alarmed, much like Abigail’s own, though Abigail couldn’t find the words to even request an explanation, let alone try and comfort her sister.

Abigail stood as well, though she only hovered by the couch, her feet refusing to obey her. As much as a part of her wanted to grab that letter and read it herself, another part of her never wanted to know what it said.

Domnhall looked between the two of them, his gaze flitting back and forth helplessly. With a sigh, he rubbed his eyes and shook his head, only looking up once more when Billie touched his shoulder to draw his attention to her.

“It’s from Niall,” Domnhall said. “He demands Abigail marry Finnian. He says he has yer faither an’ he will have him hanged if we dinnae respond tae his demands.”

Terror tore through Abigail, digging its talons through her stomach. Her legs shook too much to hold her weight and she collapsed right back onto the couch, the edges of her vision darkening rapidly as her lungs struggled to draw in a breath.

I should have kent. I should have kent he would dae such a thing.

But how could she have ever thought Niall and Finnian would manage to get close to her father? Abigail had always thought of him as invincible, much like an unstoppable force of nature. He had never lost a battle. His castle was supposed to be impenetrable.

How did Niall get tae him? How did he manage tae capture him?

“Are we certain Niall has him?” Abigail asked. “How dae we ken he is tellin’ us the truth?”

Billie’s head swung to the side to look at her, before turning back to Domnhall, nodding fervently. “Aye, Abigail is right,” she said. “He could be lyin’. Faither wouldnae be so easy tae capture.”

Domnhall hesitated and it was all Abigail needed to know that even though he had entertained the idea, even though he wanted to believe it, there was something that held him back—perhaps something he could see that Abigail and Billie couldn’t.

“Maybe,” he said, but he didn’t sound convinced. “I will find out. Meanwhile, the two o’ ye are tae stay in the castle. Dinnae stray out o’ these walls.”

As he spoke, he looked at Abigail, as though the warning was mainly for her. She supposed it was fair; she was the one who had snuck into Castle Chattan, sneaking out of her home in the middle of the day.

This time, though, she wouldn’t go anywhere. The last thing she wanted was to fall into Niall’s hands, as she doubted, she would be lucky enough to escape Castle Chattan a second time.

Domnhall made to leave, but Billie stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “Wait, what if he really daes have our faither? What will we dae?”

“Niall demands that Abigail go tae Castle Chattan accompanied by one person,” Domnhall said. “He promises there will be nae violence if we follow his instructions.”

“An’ ye will simply allow me sister tae go there, all alone?” Billie asked with a disbelieving huff.

“O’ course I willnae,” said Domnhall, pulling Billie into a lax embrace, his arms wrapping around her waist. “I would never dae such a thing. An’ I doubt Niall expects us tae dae as he says. If he has yer faither, if we must go, then we will go with an army.”

Domnhall’s reassurance helped calm Billie. Abigail let out a sigh of relief as well, glad to know that Domnhall was willing to fight to get their father back, though she hoped it wouldn’t get to this. She hoped it was nothing more than a ruse, a desperate attempt from Niall’s side to trick them into a battle.

“We will consider this once we ken more about yer faither,” Domnhall said. “I’ll write tae yer clan an’ tae Iain.”

“Tell us what they say,” Abigail said as Domnhall let go of Billie and headed out of the room. “An’ . . . an’ see if ye can find Ellair.”

Has he managed tae reach the King? What if he’s been intercepted?

Domnhall promised he would keep them informed and with that, he was gone, leaving Abigail and Billie to sit in stunned silence.

There was little Hugo could do other than wait along with everyone else for a response from Castle Robertson. It had only been a few hours since one of their messengers had rushed off to see if Laird Robertson had indeed been taken by Niall’s men or if it was all a ruse, and he knew they wouldn’t be receiving an answer any time soon, but he could hardly stand still, his concern threatening to send him into a frenzy.

What if Laird Robertson had been taken? How could they avoid putting Abigail in danger?

Domnhall had already expressed a desire to take Abigail along and pretend they were agreeing to Niall’s demands. It was the kind of plan Hugo would have proposed himself under any other circumstance, but the mere thought of putting Abigail in any kind of danger made him reluctant to consider it as an option. He would do anything to keep her away from Castle Chattan. He would do anything to keep her away from Niall and Finnian—if only he could think of another plan.

“Ye must consider the possibility that there isnae another plan,” Domnhall said from where he sat behind his desk. The sky outside the window had long since begun to darken, plunging Domnhall’s study in half-shadow. Neither of them had bothered to light the candles in the room, and so the only light came from the sunset outside and the orange flames of the fire that still burned bright in the fireplace.

It had been a gloomy day, raining since early in the morning, and now it was gloomier still; the kind of day that made Hugo see expect bad news.

“We will find a way,” Hugo insisted. “With Iain’s help?—”

“We would still be goin’ right intae enemy territory,” Domnhall pointed out. “We must be careful. Niall an’ Finnian have long proven they are two steps ahead o’ us.”

“They will be expecting us,” Hugo pointed out. “They won’t think us so foolish as to send Abigail there without any protection.”

“Aye, I believe so,” said Domnhall. “But perhaps we can still trick them intae bein’ reckless.”

“It isn’t worth it,” Hugo insisted. “We should simply attack. We have the men. We have everything we need to win.”

“Ye dinnae ken that,” Domnhall said with a sigh. “Hugo, there is nae guarantee we will win anythin’. Aye, we have men an’ allies an’ good trainin’. But we ken very little about Clan Chattan an’ I willnae risk even more than I have tae.”

Hugo could understand that, of course. Still, it didn’t mean that he liked any of it, and he had very little time to come up with another plan, one that wouldn’t involve Abigail at all.

I must think of something before we receive word from Clan Robertson.

Just then, there was a knock on the door. It was the very same messenger they had sent off to Castle Robertson only a few hours prior. Hugo and Domnhall both stood, alarmed by the man’s presence, and then another man appeared behind him.

“Me laird, this is Duncan from Clan Robertson,” their messenger said with a bow. “I met him on the way there. He has a message fer ye.”

Duncan, a young, red-faced man, bowed as he stepped forward, but said nothing, waiting for permission.

“Well?” Domnhall asked. “Speak.”

“Laird MacAuley, I was sent tae report Laird Robertson’s disappearance,” Duncan said in a clear, sharp enunciation. “We have reason tae believe he was taken by Clan Chattan.”

Hugo cursed under his breath and threw himself back onto the chair, letting his head fall back as he stared at the ceiling. So, it was all true, after all. Clan Chattan had Abigail’s father in their clutches, and they would not let him go.

Abigail had not yet heard the news, Hugo thought. The messengers would have rushed there first to report straight to Domnhall. He could imagine the moment when she and Billie found out. He could imagine the pain in their eyes, the panic that would course through them.

Abigail will do anything for her father. She will be the first to go along with Domnhall’s plan.

Could Hugo do anything or say anything to change her mind? Would she even listen to him or would she insist to be included, just as she had insisted she had to go to Castle Chattan? Once she had an idea in her mind, it was impossible to dislodge it, to convince her to do anything else.

“Thank ye,” Domnhall said, and though his voice didn’t tremble, Hugo could see the worry and the weariness in his slouched shoulders and the strained line of his neck. He wondered if he, too, looked the same. “Ye’re dismissed.”

The sun had set on the horizon and the room was plunged into deeper darkness. Domnhall sat behind his desk and looked at Hugo silently, while he stared right back.

There was nothing that needed to be said. Domnhall and Hugo both knew what had to be done. Whether they liked it or not was irrelevant.