THE PERFECT TEN (Boxed Set)

at his side, that she’d willingly accept his babe, he’d been able to face all she’d told him of his future. But what if she was truly lost to him? Would he be able to brave his future? He didn’t think so.
    Hell, he wasn’t even sure how much longer he could suck air into his chest if she wasn’t around to breathe the same air.
    Lud, why has this happened? Why hadn’t he seen it coming?
    “My liege, ahead.” Angus pointed above the tree line toward the Bruce’s stronghold.
    “Line up four abreast, shields and swords at the ready. Jacob, do ye have any questions or worries?”
    “Nay, my lord.” The lad straightened in the saddle as he sat behind Sean and thudded his chest.
    “‘Tis a brave lad ye are, son.” Satisfied all was in readiness, Duncan said, “Then sound the trumpets. Let the sneaky bastard know we arrive in force like real men.”
    ~#~
     
    “How many?” John the Bruce asked.
    “Only twenty, my lord, all mounted.”
    “Order double their number around the bailey. Then drop the bridge and bid the MacDougall enter.”
    “Aye, my Lord.”
    Finally.
    It had taken ten long years to bring Duncan MacDougall to his knees, but he’d done it. By the next full moon his enemy would have naught but the tunic on his back. No wife, no keep, no lands and no clan.
    All would become Bruce holdings, though he had no use for the plain wife. He hoped Lady Beth would die quickly. He might have use for the dungeon if the MacDougall balked.
    The Black, looking furious, strode into the Bruce’s hall with his full contingent.
    “John, I dinna want to hear dissembling. I want my wife.”
    “Your wife?” John smiled and picked up the tankard at his elbow. “Have ye lost yet another one, MacDougall?”
    The Black growled, his hand instinctively moving for his sword. Thirty Bruce men stepped forward drawing their own steel. MacDougall men did the same.
    The Bruce stood and waved his clansmen down. “We’ll have no blood shed over a simple misunderstanding.”
    Standing before an empty hearth, he invited Duncan to sit, motioning toward the high-backed chair next to his own. “I already have a wife, who ye have no doubt heard is doing her verra best to render me wode. Why the hell would I want yer Lady Beth?”
      Duncan, ignoring his invitation to sit, growled, “We tracked the men who took her onto your lands.”
      “Ye may well have, but they dinna stop here.” He came forward. “MacDougall, think on it. If I had yer woman, would I have let the bridge down?”
      The Black stared at him. “Do ye swear on yer eldest bairn’s head that ye don’t have her?”
      The Bruce hesitated for only a heartbeat before saying, “I swear. Now, come and quench ye thirst before ye take leave to search again.”
      Duncan almost smiled. The bastard would rue the day he swore that oath. As planned, Duncan made a show of shedding his brilliant blue doublet and hood so all would remember what he wore. “My men need drink, as do our mounts.”
      “Of course.” As the Bruce ordered the horses tended and the ale served, Duncan’s men—save Jacob, who had positioned himself near a far doorway—-wandered, clanging and banging around the great hall as they found places among their enemies. On Duncan’s silent command Angus rudely bumped chest-first into one of the Bruce men. Growling, both reached for their dirks.
      When Angus swore at the man, Duncan yelled, “Enough Angus! Stand down.” As he’d hoped, all eyes turned toward the men-at- arms in confrontation.
      The Bruce repeated the command to his own man.
      Within minutes all had settled within the hall though it was painfully apparent none were comfortable.
    ~#~
      “Psst!”
      Beth forced opened her swollen eyelids, not sure if she’d heard a real voice or one her imagination had conjured out of desperation.
      “Psst. Up here, my lady.”
      She rolled onto her back and stared up the shaft. “Jacob?” She started to cry. “Oh, thank God!”
    “Sssh!” He looked over his shoulder before addressing her again.
    “Move to the side, my lady, so I might drop a blade. Our liege will never forgive me should I kill ye.”
    “He’s here?”
    “Aye, my lady, but move quickly afore I get caught.”
    Relief and hope jump-started her tears again, but Beth did as she was told. Within a heartbeat she heard the blade’s thump.
    She almost laughed seeing Rachael’s silver sgian dubh lying only inches from her nose. When she looked up to