Cain’s eyes scanned the seaweed-slick rocks and spied the blue ribbon that held the stems of Ella’s bouquet. He snatched it out of the incoming tide and turned the thin stalks in his hand, stopping at the sight of the small paper tied there.

Gideon came up to read over his shoulder as Cain read the words out loud. “I have him, your secret. If you wed the Sinclair or alert anyone, I will slit his throat. Descend the back stairs to save your brother.”

Kenneth swore. “Randolph will kill them both.”

“Cain,” Gideon said, his face hard, his voice low. “If the boy dies at Mackay’s hand, the contract with King James will be null. The Sinclairs can take Dunrobin and Sutherland Clan without royal interference. Mackay will be blamed, and ye might win Varrich and the Mackay lands, too, if ye tell James of their involvement.”

“Ye would let the boy die?” Bàs asked. “And Ella?”

“Nay,” Kenneth yelled, his face going ashen. “What type of monster are ye to let them be slaughtered?”

“Not a monster,” Gideon said, turning to the elderly steward. “A chief and conqueror who can see that the sacrifice of two people could unite three clans and strengthen all of Scotland.”

Kenneth struggled in vain against the thick rope binding his wrists. “But Ella—”

“Was planning to kill Cain,” Gideon said, his hand going to his own sword.

“That was me!” Kenneth yelled. “Not Ella. She never agreed.”

The tearing inside Cain was almost a physical pain. Gideon was right. If Mackay killed the boy, Cain could take Dunrobin and Sutherland lands. Right now. Today. He could turn the four Sinclair armies to ride south to Dunrobin instead of west to Varrich. He could win what his father had fought for most of his life without worrying about King James’s wrath. He would win the respect of his brothers and his clan. He would strengthen Scotland.

“Listen to me, Cain,” Kenneth said, his voice lower as he struggled to keep his composure. “If ye save Ella, the Sutherland Clan will see ye as an ally. Ye can still take Dunrobin peacefully. As before, if ye let her die and try to take it by force, without her as your wife, blood will soak the halls ye wish to claim. Good people and horses will die, and hate will fester in the hearts of your new subjects.”

Cain breathed, trying to clear his mind, setting all the pieces on his mental game board. Jamie Sutherland, King James, Randolph Mackay, Dunrobin, his brothers, and…Ella. The beautiful, courageous, intelligent woman who surprised and challenged him daily, the queen to his knight. If he did not ride to Varrich now, he would surely lose her. He could feel it like he could feel the hard hammering of his heart. The threat of loss.