She shook her head. “Forgive me, Your Grace, but no. I have fought against enough enemies. I’m done fighting.”
The Bruce nodded once, his lips pinched in his beard.
“I’m nae used to being rejected three times, my lady. Still, ’tis yer right, and I appreciate words said honestly. It takes courage to say nae to a king, and ye dinna lack any. I’ll take yer valuable advice and let ye go. But if ye wilna show yer loyalty to me by fighting by my side, ye need to leave this council now.”
Amber untangled her fingers from Owen’s. “Of course.”
She locked her eyes with Owen’s, and his stomach squeezed in awe at her. It was only a brief moment, but it felt like it lasted for a lifetime. It was as though Amber and he were the only two people left in the world, and there was no yesterday or tomorrow. No enemies, no one to judge them, and no one to respond to. She wasn’t a distraction. She was the only thing that made sense.
When she walked out, she left him with his chest hollow and scraped out.
Oh, he was so fecked.
“Owen! Owen!” He heard a voice calling him and turned his attention to the men around the table, his head still full of Amber.
The Bruce, Neil, Douglas, and everyone else stared at him, waiting. He only now noticed his father had come to stand right next to him.
“What is it?” Owen said.
The Bruce raised his eyebrows, his eyes hard in annoyance. “Is there a route up the mountainside?”
Owen cleared his throat. He needed to shake his feelings for Amber off and concentrate on the task at hand. If only it were so easy.
“Son,” Dougal murmured next to his ear, “ye need to focus. Ye lead one third of the Bruce’s army in this battle. Ye canna let a lass distract ye this time.”
Owen nodded. For the first time in his life, he completely agreed with his father.
“Aye,” he said to Dougal, then leaned over the drawing on the table and drew a thin, circuitous path on the right side of the mountain flank up the hill. “Here.”
And as the line got closer to the dots representing the MacDogualls, he realized with the clarity of the waters of Loch Awe that everything he’d ever wanted had finally happened. He was given great responsibility. He was a leader. He could finally make his clan proud.
He couldn’t let his love for Amber interfere with that.
Chapter 26
Owen sat in the courtyard staring at the flames of the campfire, deep in thought. He enjoyed the murmuring voices around him. The whole courtyard was full of campfires and warriors eating and drinking.
Craig was there, and several others, including two Mackenzie brothers, cousins of Kenneth. A worm of guilt turned in Owen’s gut—he was at fault for his death.
“I am sorry for yer cousin’s death,” he said.
“’Tis nae yer fault, Cambel,” said Angus, clearly the older one, with black hair and black eyes. “’Tis war. People die.”
Raghnall, the younger brother, who had the same raven hair but was even taller and leaner, sighed. He had a crooked nose and one eyebrow with a scar. He looked like someone who’d been in his fair share of fights. “Aye. We’re all going to die.” He raised his cup with uisge. “So better savor the joys of life while it lasts.” He downed it and grunted.
“I’m nae surprised to hear you say that, brother,” Angus said. “Nae wife, nae children, and nae land.”
Raghnall threw a dark glance at him. “Nae land? I’m nae Mackenzie nae more, aren’t I?”
Craig frowned. “Aren’t ye two brothers?”
Angus and Raghnall exchanged a heavy look. “Our father disinherited me,” Raghnall said. “He said I shouldna bother coming back to Mackenzie lands or consider myself part of the clan.”
Something cold and heavy turned in Owen’s gut. Would that be his destiny if he failed this mission? What if they made their way to the Pass of Brander tomorrow, but no enemy arrived? What if there was a different trap waiting for them?
“Father died,” Raghnall said. “Our brother is chief of the clan now. And I’ll be on my way home after this battle. He may reconsider and take me back.”
“What did ye do that ye da disinherited ye, man?” Owen asked.
Angus looked pointedly at the fire. The two didn’t even sit next to each other, and Owen wondered if the Mackenzies were as close as the Cambel brothers.
“Many things I regret,” Raghnall said.
Angus raised his eyebrows. “Ye do?” His low voice had a quality similar to thunder.
Raghnall shrugged. “I’ve lived as a homeless rogue for years. A warm bed and a steaming stew every night is what I want. ’Tis time to live like a man again.”
Angus’s face darkened. He leaned forward and placed his elbows on his knees, the muscles of his huge shoulders bulging under his tunic. Owen wouldn’t want to get on the bad side of this man. His gray eyes were like the black clouds of a gathering storm. For a moment, Owen saw bottomless pain there, the pain that the saddest songs sing about.
“The warm bed is cold when ye lie there alone, and the steaming stew dinna taste good if ’tis nae the woman ye love who cooked it.” His voice cracked at the word “woman.”
Raghnall chuckled. “I ken ye dinna want to marry, but trust me, brother, any bed and any stew is better than none.”
Silence hung around the fire. Angus picked up a stick and stabbed at the burning logs, sending a frenzy of sparkles flying into the air.
“Ye dinna want to marry?” Craig asked.
“Only if I must to protect my clan,” Angus said.
Raghnall rummaged in his sack and retrieved a lute. He brushed against the strings once, producing a beautiful, sad sound.
“Ye’ve always been doing that, yer whole life,” he said. “Ye’re clearly lonely. Dinna ye wish to find someone ye love?”
Angus glared at him. “Never mind about me. Why dinna ye marry if ye want a warm bed.”
Raghnall laughed and played a cheerful tune. “A man dinna need a wife to keep his bed warm. Aye, Owen?” He winked.
Owen looked away. He actually couldn’t think of anyone in his bed but a certain beautiful woman from the future.
Craig arched one eyebrow. “I reckon he’d have agreed with ye before. Now, I dinna think he will.”
“Shut yer mouth,” Owen growled.
Raghnall’s occasional chords grew into a melody, and he began to sing.
“Oh, road before me, bring me favorable wind,
Oh, deep, blue sea, be gentle with me.
Pick me up, tired, sick, and lonely,
And take me to the lass who waits for me…”
He had a pleasant, melodic voice, and Owen was thankful to the man for the temporary distraction. Owen didn’t know if Craig suspected he had feelings for Amber, but he didn’t need an additional reminder of her when he was doing everything in his power to keep his mind on the mission.
“Have a cup of uisge?” a familiar voice sounded.
Owen turned. Ian stood behind him, tall and as big as he remembered him, and whole. Both Craig and Owen stood and took Ian in a heartfelt embrace.
“My messenger was fast,” Owen said. He’d sent a boy earlier to Dundail to ask Ian to join the fight. “I didna expect ye till the morn.”