Page 60 of The Highlander Steals a Virgin
Too easy.
It was whathehad wanted and fought against them for after all.
Gavin leaned forward. “Ye ken they’ll take his return as weakness. They might come for us next. If we leave the blow unreturned, it does set precedent.”
“I’ve heard this argument already,” Rhys said, voice low but firm.
“Aye, because it’s a sound one,” Robert shot back. “Ye asked us here, we gave our minds. Daenae tell us we’re meant to sit on our arses now after what they’ve done to one of our sons.”
Rhys looked them over. His fingers curled tighter on the table edge, and Amara’s face flashed across his vision. “There’s nay merit in bloodshed for the sake of pride.”
Old Grant snorted. “Since when?”
“Since I nearly lost me cousin,” Rhys growled. “We all ken why we prepared for that raid. To retrieve him. Nae for vengeance. Nae for war.”
“Ye daenae think they’ll see our restraint as cowardice?” Leighton offered, almost suggesting plainly that it wouldn’t as he asked still.
“I think they’ll see a clan unwilling to spill its own for nothin’.” Rhys stepped back, jaw tightening. “As ye have said to me previously, Leighton. Finn’s home. Alive. The goal’s been met.”
Robert was shaking his head. “We’ve got momentum, me laird. We’ve got a reason.”
“Nay,” Rhys snapped. “Wehada reason and ye drug yer feet. I wanted to attack ages ago. Now we’ve got peace, and I’ve got aclan who just got their son back. I willnae turn this into a burial… or several.”
Silence stretched through the chamber.
No one looked quite satisfied. But no one challenged him again.
Rhys stood tall. “There’ll be nay assault. Nay blood. Nae now.”
He didn’t wait for agreement. “Dismissed,” he ordered.
The room hadn't emptied fast enough.
Rhys stood at the edge of the war table, arms crossed, watching Leighton and two of the older councilmen linger near the hearth. Their voices were hushed but not quiet enough. Not for his ears. Not in his own chamber.
He waited until the last of the scribes closed the door behind him, then gave them space to come forward if they meant to.
Leighton did.
The elder’s face was calm as ever, but his fingers fidgeted at the hem of his sleeve.
“Out with it,” Rhys said, low.
“We mean nay disrespect, Laird,” Leighton began.
Robert cleared his throat behind him. “But there’s a matter that cannae be left unsaid.”
Rhys didn’t move. “Aye?”
“It’s about the Murdoch girl.”
Of course it was.
Rhys looked between them slowly. “She has a name.”
Leighton offered a slow nod. “Lady Amara, then.”
There was a pause. Just long enough for tension to wedge itself into the space between words.
