Malcolm walked to the great hall with a light step. He’d rather stay abed with Sheona for the remainder of the day, but he had to address the men and prepare for the Gordon’s arrival. He also had to release the MacLeods in the dungeon.

Thinking they’d suffered enough, he went to the kitchens and gave instructions for a proper meal for them. Then he went straight to see them.

“Open the cells, let these men out.” The guard did not hesitate and within a short time, thirty-five MacLeods stood free and staring at Malcolm.

Alasdair approached first. “You were successful?”

“Aye, I was.

“What now?”

“You come above and be properly fed and on your way. I have preparations to see to for my father’s surrender and you must do the same. I have a parchment from the council for you to present to the MacLeod. Hopefully, you will not meet with much resistance. If we are very lucky, we will be successful in resolving this mess.”

Alasdair reached out his hand. Malcolm grabbed his forearm and they shook. “I believe we have already overcome the biggest hurdle, MacDonald.”

“Oh? And what is that?”

“We are in a room together and not killing one another. There must be some magic at play here to have brought about this turn of good fortune.”

Malcolm grinned. Perhaps there was, but he was not about to share details about his mother’s spirit with these men. He moved to the side and directed them toward the stairs. Once back in the hall he waited until they were all seated and food was served, then went to see his father.

He needed the man to engage in the negotiations. Malcolm would step up if necessary, but it was not his place and he did not want to run the clan like this. As much as he despised his father’s ways, there was no honour in usurping authority.

He entered his father’s chamber to find him slumped in a chair by the hearth. His entire body screamed defeat. Such a change in demeanour was unexpected.

“You have come to collect me so soon?”

“No, I have come to discuss the entire matter with you, if you will listen.”

“By all means, have a seat and speak your mind.”

Malcolm took the chair opposite his father. The man had aged ten years overnight.

“You do not look well, Father.”

He chuckled. “I am not well, Malcolm. I am being mutinied by my own son and to make matters worse, am losing my wits.”

“I only wish what is best for the clan. It is not a personal attack against you. I would stand up to any man who caused the carnage you have.”

“What carnage? A few raids and some bloodshed.”

“Some? Do you know how many MacLeods have died by our hand in this attack alone?”

His father said nothing. Malcolm suspected he knew the exact tally.

“Hundreds of people are dead. Hundreds. And they are not all fighting men either. Women and children who look to their chief as protector have no say in how we aim to protect them.”

“You speak in theory. Real life is much more complicated than that. You think you can lead this clan? Very well. Let’s see how you manage the next wave of MacLeods coming through the Cullins. How many lives would you sacrifice to save the rest, Malcolm? Until you can answer that, you cannot judge me.”

“I can and I have. There’s always a better way than biting pieces out of one another.”

His father shook his head. “You will learn your lessons the hard way, as we all do.”

“Why do you say that?”

“She was a wonderful woman.”

“Who? Mother?” Malcolm suspected his father might have also had an encounter with the White Lady. Perhaps that explained his melancholy demeanour.

“You were too young to remember, but twelve years old.”

“What happened?”

“She was riding.” He smiled. “She loved to ride.”

“Aye, that I do remember.”

Malcolm whipped around to find the image of his mother standing near the bed. His father’s mouth hung open much like Malcolm’s had earlier. It was still an incredible sight to behold, that of a spiorad—a soul long departed.

“Moira.” His father’s voice was but a whisper.

“Aye, husband, ’tis I.”

“You look exactly the same.”

“You have changed much. Too much, Donald. I weep for you.”

His father stood and moved toward her. “No. I am protecting the clan.”

“You have only sought revenge for my death. I know what is in your heart and it is not noble. You have dishonoured my memory, Donald.”

“No! It was because I loved you and they took you from me.”

“Do you not see? I fell off my horse because it was spooked. Not because someone pushed me off. You are wrong—have been for all these years.”

“Why do you come to me after all this time?”

“Because I hoped you would see your errors on your own. I only gained the power to communicate when Malcolm’s wife arrived. She has the gift to see into our world and her need pulled me all the way through.”

What she said was incredible. That his dead mother was standing before him was the most humbling thing he’d ever experienced. Her expression was so sad, so much pain in her eyes as she gazed upon his father.

“I cannot bear your displeasure.”

The words were torn from his father. Malcolm had never heard such an utterance of anguish in his life, and never expected to hear it from this man.

“Malcolm is right in every way, Donald. You must atone and enter into these negotiations in good faith and do everything in your power for the pain and suffering you have inflicted on the MacLeods all these years.”

He nodded as she faded. “No! Do not go. Stay with me, please.”

“I cannot stay. You must heed my words, Donald. You must atone.”

With that she faded from sight. The White Lady—his mother.

His father reached out his hand to where she’d been moments before. He stumbled twice and sat on the edge of the bed holding fast to the post.

“Was that a dream?”

“No, Father, ’twas not a dream. I saw her earlier in my chamber too.”

“I cannot believe it.”

“You must. And you must listen to what she said. We can become ten times stronger if we are not using up all our energy trying to outwit the MacLeods.”

His father looked up with tears in his eyes. “I was not wrong. I was told she was pushed.”

“Who told you that?”

“I do not even recall. It doesn’t matter. I was wrong. All this time I have wanted nothing but to see every MacLeod dead.” He stood and came toward Malcolm. “You are a brave young man.”

Malcolm couldn’t believe his ears. “You will follow my plan?”

“Aye, Malcolm. I will follow it. When the Gordon comes I will go along with him willingly and enter into peaceful negotiations.” He placed his hand on Malcolm’s shoulder. “You have done well, lad. I take back what I said before. You are more than capable of leading this clan.”

“Thank you. I did not want to resort to harsh measures, but I could see no other way forward. I really did not think you would stop until we were all destroyed.”

“I know. I may not have. I do not know how to atone as your mother says, but I can start by allowing you to follow through with your plan.”

“It is a good plan. You and the MacLeod will be mediated and will be able to determine which territory you each own. It will go well as long as you both speak in good faith.”

“And what happens if it breaks down?”

“Then I take over for you.”

“And who takes over for MacLeod?”

“Alasdair, his son.”

His father nodded. “He has a good mind, unlike his father.”

Malcolm shook his head. “Comments like that could break everything down. Keep yourself in check.”

“I will.”

Malcolm left his father’s chamber to check back on the MacLeods feasting in the great hall. He’d omitted telling his father he’d let them go. Considering what he’d just witnessed, he wasn’t about to drive the man completely out of his mind. When he got there, they were just finishing.

“Are you all set?”

Alasdair came up to him. “Aye, we are off. We have a long walk ahead of us and unsure what faces us at Dunvegan. I will need to see my sister before I go to assure Father she is well.”

“I will send for her immediately.”

Before Malcolm could take one step toward Sheona’s chamber, Hamish entered. He was wide-eyed and pale.

“Malcolm, you’d better come look at this.”

“What is it?”

“I think every MacLeod alive is outside. And they do not look happy.”

“Christ’s teeth. Alasdair, you’d better come with me. I cannot diffuse the MacLeod without your help.”

Malcolm went out into the bailey and climbed the steps to the gatehouse. There were indeed several hundred angry-looking MacLeods at his doorstep.

“Release my clansmen and my daughter immediately, MacDonald, or I will tear this place apart stone by stone!”

“We are already released, Father.” Alasdair’s response brought about a surprised look on the MacLeod’s face.

“Come inside and we will talk,” Malcolm said.

“And what of my daughter?”

“She is inside and unharmed.”

“And how do we know ’tis not some trickery you’ve planned. Damn you, MacDonald! You cannot be trusted!”

“You have my word, none of yours will come to harm inside these walls.”

“Where is your father, lad? I do not see him on the battlements with you. Is he hiding inside and will jump out with the rest of you lot to finish what you started?”

Malcolm couldn’t blame the MacLeod for his anger or his fear. He was completely justified in both. Merely seeing some of his clansmen wasn’t enough to wash away years of hatred and bitterness. They all had a long road ahead of them.

“He will want to see his daughter before he steps through that gate,” Alasdair said.

“I do not want her involved in this business. He will take our word for it or he can stay out there.”

He then turned back to the men on the outside. “Will you come inside and talk?”

Long moments passed before MacLeod said anything. He was right to weigh his options, but there was only one option that made any sense, no matter which side of the gate one stood.

The MacLeod slid from his horse and walked to the gatehouse alone. Malcolm descended the stairs and walked to meet him. He drew a deep breath and prayed that when he opened it, only one man would walk through and not a rush of angry clansmen on horseback.

Malcolm nodded and his men lifted the heavy log holding the gate in place. He opened the door and waited. Rorie MacLeod was a large man, not quite as tall as Malcolm, but he was heavy-set and battle-hardened. He glared at Malcolm as the latter stood back, motioning for him to enter.

“Welcome to Knock Castle, MacLeod.”

A look of surprise crossed his face and he nodded and entered. Alasdair stood next to Malcolm.

“We have much to update you on, Father.”

“Aye, it would seem. Where is Sheona?”

“She is inside.” Malcolm walked toward the keep with the others in tow.

“Have her things packed and ready to leave within the hour. I will listen to you, MacDonald, but I do not plan to stay.”

“She will not be leaving with you.”

“What do you mean? She is my daughter and she will be coming home with me.”

“No, MacLeod, she will not. She is my wife, and she will be staying with me.”

A meaty fist slammed into Malcolm’s jaw just before the heavy MacLeod tackled him to the ground.

“You bastard, you have defiled my daughter!”

Malcolm shoved him off and leapt to his feet, ready to defend himself if he needed to.

“She was not forced. She married me willingly.”

“You lie!”

“You will see for yourself in a moment, but I will not let you see her if you do not control yourself.” Damned man had a very good punch. Malcolm’s jaw throbbed and he itched to return the compliment, but they would get nowhere if he lost his temper as well.

Alasdair held his father back. “You must listen to what he has to say, Father. He has found a way to end the feud.”

“Come, let us meet in the hall and I will explain everything there. I will send for Sheona and you can see for yourself that she is well and undamaged.”