CHAPTER 3
Hector MacKenzie of Gairloch stood on the outer sea wall of Eilean Donan Castle, where he had a commanding view for miles in every direction. The castle was built on the strategic point where three lochs met: Loch Duich, Loch Alsh, and Loch Long. By controlling the waterways in the rugged land of Kintail, the MacKenzies controlled the valleys, mountains, and even the sky above. And what the MacKenzies controlled, he controlled. He was chieftain in all but name of the great Clan MacKenzie.
He watched the progress of the riders approaching the castle along Loch Duich. As they drew closer, he recognized the lead rider by his enormous size. Big Duncan of the Axe, as he was known, had served at Hector’s side since their youth. He was the man Hector entrusted with tasks that required fearlessness, strength, and a lack of scruples.
He had watched for Big Duncan’s return every day for a fortnight. What had taken him so long to find Hector’s goddamned nephew?
His throat tightened, choking him with rage at the thought of Rory. For the ten years since his brother’s death—which had not come soon enough—Hector had ruled the clan in his nephew Brian’s name. He was not about to let Rory ruin that.
Each time he recalled his last conversations with Brian, he grew more furious. But Rory says… My brother disagrees with ye on that… Rory advised me…
On his own, Brian was easy to manage. Hector wondered how his brother had spawned such a trusting soul. It was as if a wolf had sired a kitten.
Rory had the wolf in him. Though he could also be a charmer, a trait he inherited from his mother, he had been fearless from birth. Other lads panicked in their first battle, but not Rory. And from the time his nephews were bairns, Rory had appointed himself Brian’s protector.
Whenever Rory looked at him, Hector saw the wolf that lurked behind his eyes, ready to pounce and tear him to shreds. Well, he would pounce first.
It had always been a mystery to him why Rory, who was clearly the stronger brother, supported Brian, rather than attempt to push him aside. He could only surmise that Rory’s devotion to his half-brother was a devious act. If Rory thought he could take Hector’s place and rule the clan through his weaker sibling, he was mistaken.
The men of the clan, including Brian, were accustomed to following Hector. He had made sure of it. During Brian’s minority, Hector had kept him under his thumb instead of training him to lead. But if Brian had the will now, he could assert his power as chieftain. Thanks to Rory, he was becoming increasingly difficult to control.
There was an obvious solution. Hector nodded to himself as a sense of certainty settled over him. The challenge would be to make certain the blame was not laid at his door.
But one way or another, Rory must die.
As the riders crossed the bridge to the castle, Hector went inside and waited for Big Duncan in the laird’s chamber, which was the largest in the castle and furnished with Flemish tapestries and heavy carved furniture. He had taken the chamber for his own use after his brother died and he was named Brian’s tutor. He had not given it up when Brian came of age. And why should he? He was still the man who ruled Clan MacKenzie, and everyone knew it.
Finally, the guard who stood outside the door opened it to admit Big Duncan, who looked as if he had ridden long and hard to reach the castle. The man was as ugly as he was large, and he had particular needs that Hector supplied to ensure his continued loyalty.
“What news of Rory?” Hector asked as soon as the door was closed.
“I split up the Gairloch men I took with me, and we searched everywhere,” Big Duncan said. “We couldn’t find him.”
“Couldn’t find him?” Hector drained his cup and threw it against the wall. “God damn that Rory.”
“No one has seen him in weeks,” Duncan said. “Not since that argument he had with Brian. Perhaps he’s gone for good.”
Rory had gone before, but he always returned like a bad-luck charm. He would come back to protect his brother. And when he did, Hector would be ready for him.