Her father paled and staggered back. "Nae daughter of mine would say that."
Hurt sliced through her, although there had always been a chance that her father might disown her for her disloyalty. She raised her chin to hide the quivering mass of fear and misery inside her. One hint of weakness and all was lost.
"I'm your daughter, Da. I'm also the Mackinnon's wife. The discord between our clans has to end. Too much blood has already been spilled, with nae gain to either side."
Her father scowled. "Ye dare to lecture me on strategy, daughter?"
"She has the right. Bonny Mhairi is both Drummond and Mackinnon now." Callum's voice was deep and steady. He didn’t spare a glance for the weaponry arrayed before him. "This marriage unites the two glens and will bring peace."
By all that was holy, he was a brave laddie. A husband to make any lass proud. Mhairi just hoped to heaven she managed to bring him out of this alive so she could tell him that.
"My daughter is coming back to Bruard, where she’ll wed her cousin and follow Drummond ways," her father snarled.
"No’ while she's married to me."
John raised his sword. "That's easily fixed."
"Da, do ye count your honor for nothing?" Panic clawed at Mhairi as she looked around the tent and realized everything was coming undone.
Her arrival hadn’t allayed the Drummond’s fury. Her kinsmen intended Callum's death, then her father would snatch her back to Bruard, a widow after a mere day as a wife. Better she and Callum had stayed behind Achnasheen's stout walls and defied a thousand Drummond cannons.
"This man kidnapped ye and made you his whore," her father said, drawing his sword. "I willnae let his filthy hands defile ye again."
"He’s unarmed," she protested, as the Drummonds edged closer to her husband.
Nobody yet struck out. It was clear they saved the prize of killing the Mackinnon laird for her father. Beside her, Callum did not move. She realized with a shock that he'd always understood that there was a good chance he wouldn’t leave this camp alive. He'd thought the risk worthwhile.
By God, she didn't.
"So were ye when he snatched you," her father growled.
"I had my knife, and I cut him," she said, although at this stage, it hardly mattered.
Her father's smile was so ruthless, it turned her blood to ice. She’d hoped the sight of her might soften his opposition to her wedding. It turned out she was a sentimental fool. Her presence made everything worse. If she'd stayed in the castle, perhaps Callum could have used her safety as a bargaining counter to ensure his return to the keep.
Too late for regrets. She beat back waves of crippling fear and frantically struggled to come up with a way to retrieve the situation. At least Callum was wise enough to stay silent. A word from him at this stage would spell his death.
"Och, nice to hear there’s still a wee drop of Drummond blood left in ye, lass."
"I'm all Drummond," she snapped back.
"Aye, ye are." Her father's grip on his weapon tightened as he glowered at Callum. "Dinnae think that hiding behind my lass’s petticoats will save ye, Mackinnon. I'll no’ hesitate to slit your throat. I'll kill ye with no more feeling than I’d have killing a weasel or a fox or a stoat. You’re vermin."
"No, Da," she said in horror. Nausea and disbelief curdled in her stomach. This couldn’t be happening. She wouldn’t let it happen.
"Stay out of it, Mhairi," John said. "This is a matter for men."
His dismissal sparked her fury and banished her shaking dread. Ignoring the ominous circle of swords, she deliberately stepped between her father and Callum.
"No, it's no’ a matter for men. No’ when it's a matter for women to weep over dead sons and brothers and husbands. It's a matter for women to tend the graves of kinsmen who died too young and to nae purpose. Father, it's time this feud ended. It's time ye looked beyond petty revenge and thought about what's best for your clan."
"Girl, ye have nae right to speak to the chieftain like that," John protested.
"Aye, I have. More than most, given I now belong to both the Drummonds and the Mackinnons."
Her father paled. "What's yon bastard done to ye, lass? You used to ken who ye are."
She looked directly at her father. She loved him. She always would. But he was right. Her time at Achnasheen had changed her, made her see her world more clearly. What she observed now was an aging man clinging vainly to tired old ways that had lost any benefit they'd ever had.