Six months before Morag’s journey to Armstrong lands
 

The great hall of Armstrong Castle had seen better days. Colin Armstrong stood at the head of the long oak table, his hands gripping the carved chair that had belonged to his father, and his grandfather before him. The men gathered around the table—his most trusted advisors, seasoned warriors who’d bled for Armstrong lands—stared at him as if he’d lost his mind.

“Ye cannae be serious,” Duncan MacLeod said finally, his grizzled voice cutting through the stunned silence. “The eastern marches? Me laird, that’s some of our best grazin’ land.”

“Was our best grazin’ land,” Colin corrected grimly. “Before raids burned half the pastures and drove off most of the cattle. Before Fraser’s men started pickin’ off our shepherds one by one.”

Niven Reid leaned forward, his weathered face creased with concern. “It’s still Armstrong land, me laird. Our land. Yer faither would turn in his grave—”

“Me faither,” Colin interrupted, his voice carrying the steel that had earned him his reputation, “is dead. And if we dinnae find a way tae stop Fraser, we’ll all join him soon enough.”

He moved to the massive hearth, where a fire struggled against the autumn chill. The flames seemed smaller somehow, weaker, like everything else in the castle these days. “Look around ye. Really look. Half our garrison is gone—dead, wounded, or fled tae clans that can still afford tae pay them. Our coffers are nearly empty. Our people are starvin’.”

“Which is exactly why we cannae afford tae give away our lands!” MacLeod slammed his fist on the table, making the pewter cups jump. “Ye’re talkin’ about handin’ over territory that’s been Armstrong fer three hundred years!”

“I’m talkin’ about survival,” Colin said quietly, turning back to face them. “And I’m talkin’ about the one alliance that could save us all.”

Young Jamie Armstrong, Colin’s cousin and heir, shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “The MacDuff lass, ye mean. But Colin, there are other ways—”

“Are there?” Colin’s dark eyes swept the table, challenging each man in turn. “Name them, Jamie. Tell me what other clan has the gold we need, the men we need, the strategic position we need tae finally crush Fraser once and for all.”

“The Campbells—” someone started.

“Have nay interest in border wars that dinnae benefit them directly,” Colin cut him off. “The MacDougalls are already stretched thin fightin’ their own battles. The MacLeods…” He shrugged. “Even if they were willin’, which they’re nae, they dinnae have the resources we need.”

Niven stood, his chair scraping against the stone floor. “So ye’d sell yerself tae MacDuff fer his gold? ”

The words hung in the air like a blade. Colin felt his jaw tighten, felt the familiar cold rage that had kept him alive through a dozen battles. But when he spoke, his voice remained controlled.

“I’d dae whatever it takes tae save this clan. Whatever it takes tae keep our people alive.” He moved back to the table, his hands flat on the scarred oak surface. “Alistair MacDuff has three things we desperately need: gold, men, and strategic control of the northern trade routes. His daughter is the key tae all three.”

“And what’s tae stop him from laughin’ in yer face?” MacLeod demanded. “Why would a man like MacDuff, with all his wealth and power, ally himself with a strugglin’ border clan?”

Colin smiled, but there was no warmth in it. “Because I’m goin’ tae offer him somethin’ he wants more than gold. Somethin’ he needs.”

“Which is?”

Colin straightened, choosing to ignore the question for now.

“MacDuff has been tryin’ tae expand his influence south fer years. But Fraser controls the key mountain passes, the ancient roads that would give MacDuff access tae the Lowland markets. Fraser’s been bleedin’ MacDuff’s trade caravans fer months, demandin’ tribute fer safe passage.”

“So ye’d promise MacDuff what ye cannae deliver,” Niven said flatly. “Fraser’s still alive, last I checked. Still raidin’ our lands, still—”

“Still vulnerable,” Colin interrupted. “Fraser’s strength comes from his fortified position and his alliances. But those alliances are built on fear, nae loyalty. Remove Fraser, and his supporters will scatter like leaves in the wind.”

Jamie leaned forward, his young face creased with worry. “And if ye fail? If Fraser kills ye instead? What happens tae the clan then?”

“Then ye’ll lead them,” Colin said simply. “And ye’ll still have the MacDuff gold tae rebuild with.”

“What MacDuff gold?” MacLeod’s voice was sharp with skepticism. “Ye havenae even approached the man yet. Fer all ye ken, he’s already arranged a match for his daughter with someone who can actually afford her.”

Colin reached into his leather jerkin and pulled out a sealed letter, placing it carefully on the table. The MacDuff seal gleamed red in the firelight.

“I sent a preliminary offer three weeks ago,” he said quietly. “This is his response.”

Niven snatched up the letter, breaking the seal with rough fingers. His eyes moved quickly over the parchment, his expression growing alternating between relief and worry with each line. Finally, he looked up.

“He’s interested,” Niven said slowly. “But his terms…”

“Are steep,” Colin finished. “Aye. I ken.”

“How steep?” Jamie asked.

Colin began to pace, his movements controlled but restless. “Full dowry of two thousand gold pieces, tae be delivered in two installments. Military support—fifty men for our conflict with Fraser. Exclusive tradin’ rights through MacDuff territories.” He paused. “In exchange fer the eastern marches… and Fraser’s head.”

The room erupted in a mixture of excitement and disbelief.

“Two thousand gold pieces!” Jamie breathed, his eyes wide.

“Fifty men!” Duncan added, leaning forward eagerly. “That would double our fighting force!”

“The tradin’ rights alone would make us wealthy again,” another man said.

But Niven’s expression remained grim. “And Fraser’s head? Me laird, the man’s a legendary swordsman. His army numbers in the hundreds. How exactly dae ye plan tae deliver on that promise?”

The excitement in the room died instantly as the reality of Colin’s commitment sank in.

MacLeod shook his head slowly. ” But promisin’ tae kill Fraser?” He gestured helplessly. “This isnae strategy. This is madness.”

“Is it?” Colin’s voice was deadly calm. “Let me tell ye what madness really looks like. Madness is watchin’ our people starve while we cling tae pride. Madness is lettin’ Fraser pick us apart piece by piece because we’re too stubborn tae pay the price fer salvation.”

“But Fraser—” someone protested.

“Fraser bleeds like any other man,” Colin cut him off. “And I’ve killed better warriors than him.”

Colin let them rage for a moment, then slammed his fist on the table with enough force to make the oak groan. The sound echoed through the hall like thunder, and silence fell immediately.

“Are ye finished?” he asked quietly.

MacLeod was breathing hard, his face flushed with anger. “Me laird, I’ve served yer family fer thirty years. I’ve followed ye through hell itself without question. But this…”

Colin’s voice was deadly calm. “Let me tell ye what madness really looks like. Madness is watchin’ our people starve while we cling tae pride. Madness is lettin’ Fraser pick us apart piece by piece because we’re too stubborn tae pay the price for salvation.”

He moved to the narrow window that overlooked the castle courtyard. Below, he could see the daily bustle of his people—servants, guards, craftsmen, all trying to maintain normalcy in the face of growing desperation.

“Look at them, Duncan,” he said without turning around.

“That’s nae the point—”

“That’s exactly the point.” Colin spun around, his dark eyes blazing. “Every day we delay, more of our people suffer. More of our lands fall tae Fraser’s greed. More of our future dies.”

Niven set the letter down carefully. “And ye truly believe this marriage alliance will solve everythin’?”

“I believe it’s our only chance.” Colin returned to the table, his voice taking on the tone of command his men knew well. “With MacDuff gold, we can hire mercenaries. With MacDuff men, we can finally match Fraser’s numbers. With MacDuff support, we can strangle his supply lines and force him intae a battle he cannae win.”

“And the eastern marches?” Jamie asked quietly.

Colin’s jaw tightened. The eastern marches—rolling hills and fertile valleys that had fed Armstrong cattle for generations. Land his grandfather had died defending, his father had improved with careful stewardship.

“The eastern marches are already lost,” he said finally. “Fraser’s burned half the pastures, killed most of the livestock, driven off the people. What’s the point of holdin’ ontae empty, worthless land when we could trade it fer the power tae reclaim everythin’ else?”

“It’s the principle—” MacLeod started.

“Principles dinnae win wars, Duncan. Men dae. Gold daes. Alliances dae.” Colin’s voice grew harder. “And if sellin’ me soul tae the devil himself would save this clan, I’d dae it without hesitation.”

The room fell quiet again. Outside, they could hear the distant sound of the evening watch calling out the time. Life going on, oblivious to the momentous decision being debated within these walls.

“What about the lass?” Niven asked finally. “MacDuff’s daughter. What dae ye ken about her?”

Colin shrugged. “Young. Unmarried. From what I hear, spirited enough.” He paused. “It daesnae matter. This isnae about her or me or what we might want. This is about survival.”

“And after? If this works, if ye manage tae secure the alliance and somehow defeat Fraser—what then? Ye’ll be married tae a woman ye’ve never met, bound tae a clan ye barely ken.”

“Then I’ll learn tae live with it,” Colin said simply. “Just like she will.”

Jamie stood slowly, his young face troubled. “Colin, I have tae ask—are ye certain there’s nay other way? Nay other alliance, nay other strategy that might work?”

Colin looked at his cousin—barely twenty-five, still believing the world could be shaped by hope and good intentions rather than blood and gold. Once, Colin had been that young too. That naive.

“I’ve spent months explorin’ every option, Jamie. Every possible alliance, every strategic advantage, every diplomatic solution. This is what it comes down tae—MacDuff or death. Those are our choices.”

“Then God help us all,” MacLeod muttered.

“God helps those who help themselves,” Colin replied. “And that’s exactly what we’re goin’ tae dae. I wouldnae be the first laird tae marry fer an alliance, nor would I be the last.”

He moved to his chair, settling into the worn leather with the weight of absolute decision. “I will reply tae MacDuff. Tell him I accept his terms. All of them.”

“Colin—” several voices protested at once.

“The eastern marches will be transferred tae MacDuff control upon completion of the marriage,” Colin continued as if he hadn’t heard them. “The dowry will be accepted in two installments as specified. Military cooperation will begin immediately followin’ the weddin’ ceremony.”

“And if the lass refuses ye?” Niven asked quietly. “If she takes one look at our situation and decides she wants nothin’ tae dae with a failin’ clan?”

Colin’s smile was cold as winter steel. “Then I’ll convince her otherwise. Whatever it takes.”

The men around the table exchanged glances, reading the implacable determination in their laird’s face. They’d seen that look before—in battle, when Colin decided that retreat was no longer an option. When he chose to win or die trying.

“When?” MacLeod asked finally, his voice resigned.

“The negotiations will take weeks. The actual weddin’…” Colin shrugged. “Spring, perhaps. Assumin’ MacDuff agrees tae everythin’.”

“He will,” Niven said grimly. “A man daesnae send a letter like this unless he’s already decided. The question is whether we’ll survive long enough tae see it through.”

“We will,” Colin said with absolute certainty. “Because failure isnae an option.”

As his men filed out, still grumbling and shaking their heads, Colin remained seated at the head of the table. Alone with his thoughts and the weight of what he’d just committed to.

In six months, he would marry Morag MacDuff. A woman he’d never met, from a clan he barely knew, in a ceremony that would either save his people or damn them all.

But first, he had to make sure there was still a clan left to save.

Enjoyed this bonus chapter? Dive back into the adventure and continue the journey on your e-reader. Happy reading!

Best selling books of Shona

★★★★★ 201 ratings

Read the book

★★★★★ 127 ratings

Read the book

★★★★★ 186 ratings

Read the book