do so would incite more war and create more enemies that Toran and Jenny weren’t ready to handle. His death would have to wait until the next battle. “My mother was a good woman. A brave rebel. And ye had her killed.”
The first show of emotion crossed over the Fox’s face—a flare of anger. “She was a traitor. And traitors die a traitor’s death.” The emotion was so lacking in his voice he could have been talking about the porridge he had that morning.
That cut like a dagger to Toran’s heart. Anything more his uncle had to say about Moire, Toran didn’t want to hear it, and besides he knew he couldn’t trust it. “Then I’ll look forward to your execution when this war is over.” Toran shifted his horse beside Simon’s, grabbed the back of his cousin’s neck, and gave him an uncomfortable squeeze. “And on second thought, I think we’ll take wee Simon back with us.”
Toran nodded to his men, and they started to turn, tugging Simon’s mount with them, when his uncle stopped him.
“Wait.” There was panic in his tone. “I’ll give ye what ye want, but ye’ve got to give me Simon first.”
Toran laughed. “Not bloody going to happen. Do ye take me for so much a fool?”
His uncle narrowed his eyes, and an uncomfortable beat passed between them in which Simon whined, “Da, please.”
“Ye’re a grown man, for Christ’s sake,” the old Fox growled. “Act like it.”
Toran shook his head. “He’s a grown man who’s become accustomed to a cell. We’ve wasted enough time here. Clearly he’s not worth anything to ye.”
“All right,” his uncle said reluctantly. “Hamish Mackintosh has orchestrated an attack on the prince, with the help of Boyd. It will take place just north of Inverness.”
“When?”
“One week. Now give me my son.”
“And ye’ll send full warning we know of the attack?”
“What do ye think?”
Toran said nothing but tossed Simon from his horse without regret. The wastrel was lucky to be alive. He landed with a thud before his father’s mount. Not wanting to waste another minute on either of them, Toran clucked to his horse and headed back to Cnàmhan Broch. Missives needed to be sent post haste northward to warn the prince of an imminent attack before it was too late.
* * *
Just eight days later, while Jenny and Toran were playing a game of chess, one of the guards rushed into the great hall to report that a large party was headed for the castle.
Jenny stopped, her pawn midair and her eyes wide on Toran.
He nodded at her, just a slight dip of his chin, but it was confident. “I’ll be right beside ye,” he said.
Jenny placed her pawn back in its black square. “We’ll finish our game when we’ve settled matters with my brother.”
“Aye, love, we will.”
Together they stood in the courtyard outside the castle and belted on their weapons, the broadsword on her back with the JM engraved on the hilt and the pistol she’d taken from her brother tucked into the waistband of her trews. Men were filling the ramparts, crossbows armed, and in the courtyard her soldiers had gathered, their weapons ready to hand.
Her mother was encouraging the other women and children to join her inside the castle, and Jenny gave in to her desire to see them safely tucked inside as well.
“Go now, listen to Lady Mackintosh.”
Jenny hurried up to the wall to look down the road, hazy now with the setting sun. In the distance she could hear the beat of drums carrying on the wind, the sound more jubilant than ominous, and it gave her pause.
How dare her brother be so happy to come and annihilate his kin?
Toran handed her the looking glass, and she extended it, holding it to her eye to peer through. The strangest thing… In the waning light, it looked almost like the prince’s standard being carried at the front of the line.
The prince…
Jenny cocked her head, trying to comprehend what was happening. The warnings from Toran’s uncle had all been about her brother. She glanced at Toran, who looked just as confused.
“Is it a trick?” she asked.
“I dinna know.” Toran’s jaw hardened as he gazed at the approaching riders.
Jenny slipped her hand into his grasp and squeezed. “I hope Fiona was able to deliver our messages in time.”
The muscle in his jaw clenched. “Aye. But I’d not put it past my uncle, that wily bastard, to be behind some falsehood. He was so willing to toss his entire