Page 80 of Wed to the Highlander
“I canna stay,” she protested on a broken sob.
“Of course, you can,” Maggie said, pulling away from Duncan to go to her friend. “You brought the truth forward. That takes more courage than silence. You’ve been accepting and kind to me since the day I arrived. And loyal—to me, to Duncan, and to the truth.”
A tear slipped down Fiona’s cheek.
“Stay,” Maggie urged softly. “You’ll need the women of your clan to help you through this.”
Fiona’s gaze went to Duncan’s. “What will you do?”
“Confront him and see that he pays.” His tone was quiet, resolute, which to Maggie was all the more concerning. “I’m sorry, Fiona, but there’s no other choice.”
She nodded. “I understand. I just don’t know how I’ll make my boys understand a traitor for a father.”
Maggie wrapped both arms around her trembling friend, supporting much of her weight.
Without another word, his jaw set with grim determination, Duncan left to deal with his half-brother and second-in-command.
Chapter 25
Duncan strode into the hall, fury rolling off him in waves. The gathered clansmen turned, wary, as he crossed the room in long, purposeful strides.
Lachlan sat at the long table, laughing at something one of the men had said, a tankard of ale in hand.
Duncan didn’t speak. He grabbed his brother by the collar and hauled him off the bench, slamming him hard against the stone wall. The tankard clattered to the floor.
“It was you,” Duncan growled, voice low and lethal. “All this time.”
His brother blinked, feigning confusion. “What in God’s name are you on about?”
“I have the journal,” Duncan said.
Lachlan’s face darkened. “You’ve been listening to women’s gossip.”
“I also have the map. The notes. I know about the poisoned tea. The tunnels. I know how the stable fire started as well as the peat blaze in the dead of winter. There’s a diagram of the grain silo with instructions on how to spoil the lot of it and starve the livestock. I know everything.”
The hall fell silent.
Duncan slammed him hard again. “You used Isla. Manipulated her madness. You nearly killed Maggie. You risked Jamie’s life before he was even born.”
A murmur of shock rippled through the gathered crowd.
“You let her soften you. Worse, she stood between me and what was mine,” Lachlan spat. “Angus’ inheritance, the clan’s loyalty.”
“You’re a MacPherson,” Duncan said, voice rising. “You betrayed your own blood.”
“How dare you talk of blood when yours is diluted, Lord Rothbury. You always thought yourself better than the rest of us. The laird with two faces. One for the English, one for the clan.”
Duncan’s voice was low, but it carried. “I gave you a place. Trusted you. You were my second.”
“And you divided your loyalties,” Lachlan spat. “No true Scot would marry into English softness. No true laird would let his heart rule his head.”
Duncan’s jaw clenched. “Where was your loyalty when you left families hungry? When you destroyed their livelihood. When you manipulated a disturbed woman into doing your dirty work? Is that the kind of man who deserves to lead the MacPhersons?”
The murmurs turned to shouts, the ripple now a wave.
“Banish him!” came the cry.
“That’s too good for him,” called another. “String him up.”
