warned ye once, this doesnae concern ye. If ye care for the lass, as I think ye do, dinnae even dream of coming between me and Clive Morgan.”
Gregor froze, holding up his grime-covered hands in a pacifying gesture. “If I have no part in this, then neither does she. Let her go, MacWray.”
“Like hell,” MacWray muttered. “Ye think Morgan will listen to me otherwise?”
Gregor was about to respond when the riders thundered up, reining in with a spray of mud and grass.
At the front rode her father, along with Laird Gunn, Cormack, and Lamond. Behind them were nearly all of the Gunn warriors who’d escorted Laird Gunn to Castle Bharraich, plus another score of Morgan men. When the two Lairds’ gazes landed on MacWray, Gunn’s eyes rounded and her father hissed a curse.
“Da!” Padraig cried, trying to break free and run to his father.
MacWray snagged his arm with his other hand, pulling him alongside Birdie before him.
“Padraig!” Laird Gunn lunged from his saddle and charged forward, drawing his sword. “Ye’ll pay for this, Ragnall.”
“Halt, Laird!” MacWray barked. “Ye too, Morgan.”
Her father was halfway off his horse, his eyes blazing with rage, though his movements were slower than Laird Gunn’s. “Unhand my daughter, ye bastard!” he shot back.
As the others hastily dismounted, MacWray took a step back, pulling Birdie and Padraig with him. “Come no closer if ye value yer loved ones’ lives.”
“Look around, Ragnall,” her father replied. “Ye are more than outnumbered. We could crush ye before ye make it a dozen steps.”
His gaze flicked to Gregor, surprise lifting his brows. “MacLeod. What are ye doing here?”
“The same as ye—trying to save Birdie and Padraig,” Gregor panted.
Her father blinked, then tilted his head in respect before he returned his attention to MacWray, his features hardening once more. “Let them go and I’ll grant ye a swift death for yer betrayal.”
MacWray pursed his lips and whistled. Behind them, his men lifted themselves out of their hiding spots. They scampered down the rocks to where their Laird stood, weapons drawn.
Laird Gunn snorted. “Is this supposed to frighten us? A dozen underfed lads against our warriors two score in number?” He leveled his sword at MacWray, his gaze narrowing. “I dinnae think I’ll be joining Clive in that verra generous offer of a swift death.”
“Aye, ye outnumber us, but consider this,” MacWray remarked, his voice icy. “Ye may slaughter every last one of us, but do ye think ye can do that before yer precious son and daughter fall to harm?”
Birdie flinched when his hand tightened on her arm.
“Dinnae do aught rash,” Gregor snapped, though she wasn’t sure if he spoke to MacWray or her father and Laird Gunn.
Hands still lifted, Gregor hobbled another step toward MacWray. “This isnae the time to test each other’s resolve. Nor to take up arms and fight.” His gaze flicked to her father and Laird Gunn. “Let us talk a moment, rationally.”
“What the hell has gotten into ye, MacLeod?” her father demanded.
But Lamond, who’d been watching Gregor, placed a hand on her father’s arm. “Hear him out, Laird.”
“Think this through, MacWray,” Gregor continued. “Ye have stoked an imaginary clan feud between the Gunns and the Morgans so that ye could slip to the bog and take iron ore.”
“What?” both Lairds said at once. They glanced at each other, then turned furious gazes upon MacWray once more.
“Ye’ve been stealing from me, Ragnall?” her father growled.
Gregor ignored them both, his eyes trained on MacWray. “But the proposed marriage alliance took that away, and now ye think to—what? Simply order Laird Morgan to let ye keep harvesting iron?”
“If he cares for his daughter, he’ll sign a new treaty,” MacWray retorted, “granting the MacWrays rights back to the land that used to be ours.”
“So ye mean to force his hand with the lass,” Gregor pushed, “and then what? Play this out to its obvious outcome, man. In kidnapping both the lass and the lad, ye’ve just started a war with no’ one but two clans.”
“Aye, ye have,” Laird Gunn ground out.
MacWray shifted, working his jaw.
“There is no winning for ye here, MacWray,” Gregor continued. “Ye think ye are turning the screws on the Morgans, but ye’ve only brought a hammer down upon yerself and yer clan.”
That seemed to snap what little control MacWray had left.
“It was the Morgans and their damned deceitful treaty that have hammered my people into dust, no’ I,” he roared. “I am doing what’s necessary to save them.”
“Ye are mad,” Birdie’s father shot back. “That treaty gave