“Once we were outside, they couldna lift the portcullis without the rope, and we were able to flee.” Reid patted Drake on the back and gave him a firm nod. “We found this bag of bones bleeding just outside.”
Reid nudged Duff, who inclined his head respectfully toward Kinsey.
Her throat clogged, grateful to see him alive. To see all of them alive. She shook her head. “Drake, ye sacrificed yer chance to be a knight.”
“I’d do it for ye all over again if need be.” He gave her a tender smile and shifted his attention to William, extending his hand. “I’d like to clasp arms with the man who saved my youngest sister. Thank ye for yer bravery. And for trusting me.”
“We couldna have done it without ye.” William locked his hand around Drake’s.
“If ye need anything, I’m yer man.”
Kinsey’s chest warmed at her brother’s declaration of loyalty, knowing more than most how deep it ran.
“There is one thing I’d like to ask of ye…” William glanced at Kinsey with a grin.
Drake looked between them and narrowed his eyes. “Aye?”
“I’d like permission to wed yer sister.”
Drake regarded Kinsey, who couldn’t help but smile in reply.
He chuckled. “It seems she is in agreement.” He nodded. “I can think of no one who would care for her better.” His face tightened, and his voice lowered. “And after what ye told me in the dungeon, I confess I’m pleased to hear this request.”
“Drake,” Kinsey whispered fiercely.
He shrugged in response.
“William.” A man’s voice spoke abruptly from somewhere behind Drake.
They turned to see Laird MacLeod standing several paces away, staring at William, his expression hard. Kinsey’s stomach tightened. She wished she could say something, to stand up in defense of William and the defeat at Mabrick.
But it wasn’t her battle to fight, as was evidenced in William’s determined wide-legged stance and the note of resolve in his eyes.
* * *
William knew what was coming as he looked into his father’s stern face. Disappointment.
He strode toward Laird MacLeod, bracing for the slice of his words, reminding William of his many failures. This time, however, William would not let them cut.
Nor would he allow his father to lay the path for his future or declare Kinsey unfit. Nay, William would forgo the lairdship and continue life as a soldier for the king. And he would wed Kinsey.
Never again would William put himself in a position where he might lose her.
“William,” his father said again.
There was a tightness to his father’s voice. Unfamiliar.
If William were not so set in his determination, it might have given him pause. He stopped before Laird MacLeod, feet braced, determined to fight for the life he wanted with the woman he loved.
His father’s jaw flexed as if he were gritting his teeth. His brocade tunic was rumpled, as though he’d slept in it, and his hair and beard were in disarray. Never in William’s life had he seen the laird so unkempt.
“I’ve failed ye,” William said without sorrow. For he did not feel remorse, not when he and his men had tried so hard. Especially not with what he had almost lost.
His father’s chin trembled. “My lad.” His voice broke, and his gaze turned watery. “My son.” He opened his arms and pulled William against his broad chest. “Thanks be to God, ye’re safe.”
William went still with uncertainty. His father had never embraced him, never shown any sign of affection.
“I thought ye were gone,” the old man said. “I thought I lost ye, my son.” He leaned back and regarded William with a searching gaze. “Are ye well, lad? Are ye injured?”
William could only stare in reply. This man could not be his father.
“Why do ye suddenly show concern for me?” William asked bitterly. “Did the Campbells offer a wealthy dowry ye couldna turn down?”
His father shook his head. “I’ve always been concerned about ye. I’ve always cared.”
William pulled his father from the room to the hall, where they were blessedly alone. “Ye stopped caring. I’ve spent so much of my life hearing what a failure I am. What a disappointment.”
Laird MacLeod’s shoulders sagged, and wrinkles carved deep lines on his face. “’Tis a woman’s role to coddle a child. ’Tis a father’s responsibility to ensure his son grows up to be a man. I raised ye as my da raised me. It made ye work harder, be stronger.”
William gaped at his father incredulously. “It made me resent ye.”
His father winced.
“I dinna want to be laird.” A weight lifted from William’s chest at his admission. “I dinna want to wed a Campbell lass, or any other than Kinsey.”
“The archer?” Laird MacLeod gave a half-grin.
William narrowed his eyes.
“Why do ye no’ want to be laird?” his father demanded. “Because ye dinna want to lead yer people or because ye want to marry yer archer?”
“I dinna shy from leading my people,” William said with a conviction that resonated in his soul. “But I’ll no’ put aside love for a union with a woman’s dowry.”
His father’s eyes tensed with a familiar shrewdness. “If ye were allowed to wed her, would ye still want to be laird?”
“Aye.”
“An alliance would do well for our clan, but I understand yer decision on marriage.” Laird MacLeod tilted his head, his expression almost sheepish. “’Twas one I made myself when I wed yer mum.”
William blinked in surprise. “Ye always said her head was in the clouds, and that ye dinna want me to be like her.”
His da smiled to himself, as if savoring a private moment of joy. “Aye, she did have her head in the clouds. She was a whimsical lass who dinna take life too seriously and told the most wondrous tales of dragons and brave knights. She would rather have had an armful of flowers than a mountain of gold. The world was a brighter place with her in it.” He chuckled at some distant memory. “She’d no’ have made a good leader, but she
