Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
His step halted at once, the words striking with a force he had not expected. Slowly, he turned back to her, his gaze sharpening as something darker stirred beneath the surface.
“What did ye say, lass?” he asked, his voice low, controlled, yet edged with something dangerous.
Eloise held his stare, though her breath hitched slightly, and answered, “I’m promised to Laird Lachlan Drummond, that’s the marriage I’m runnin’ from. The one ye will be returning me to.”
The name settled heavy in the hall, and for a moment, all sound seemed to fall away.
Drummond. That scoundrel.
The name alone was enough to pull him back years in an instant, to a kirk filled with vows and a sister who had smiled too bravely. He saw Jenny as she had been that day, steady, loyal, trusting him without question, and then broken by a fate he had set in motion.
His chest constricted as memory pressed hard and unforgiving.
I gave her to that man. I bound her to him for the sake of strategy and called it duty.
And now this lass stood before him, bound for the same end, her defiance echoing what Jenny had never spoken aloud.
“Who promised ye to him?” James demanded, his voice rougher now, the edge of command sharpened by something far more personal.
Eloise did not hesitate this time, though her gaze hardened slightly. “Me father,” she said, each word clear and certain, “in exchange for Drummond payin’ off his debts.”
The answer hit James heavily, and he felt a flicker of something close to revulsion twist in his gut.
“Strategy, then,” he muttered under his breath, more to himself than to her.
Eloise’s chin lifted at that, pride flaring even now. “Call it what ye will,” she replied, “but I’ll nae go willingly to it.”
He turned away for a moment, pacing once as his thoughts churned, the weight of past and present colliding in a way he could not ignore.
To send her back was the simplest course, the safest for his clan, the one that would invite no question nor consequence.
Yet the image of Jenny refused to fade, her trust a silent accusation that had never truly left him.
“Damn it all,” he muttered, dragging a hand through his hair as frustration took hold.
He could not ignore the risk, Drummond was no man to slight lightly, and to interfere would court conflict.
But neither could he ignore the truth before him, stark and undeniable.
At last, he turned back to her, his decision settling with a quiet finality.
“Out,” he said sharply to the guards, his tone brooking no argument.
They hesitated only a moment before bowing their heads and withdrawing from the hall, the heavy doors closing behind them. Silence followed, thick and expectant, as James stepped closer to Eloise once more.
“There may be a way to protect ye,” he said. “But it’ll require somethin’ drastic, and ye’ll have to trust me in it.”
Her brows drew together slightly as she said, “I’ve little choice but to hear it, so speak plain.”
He inclined his head slightly, as if acknowledging the truth of that. “Ye’ll pretend to be me future bride,” he said, the words direct, leaving no room for confusion.
Eloise gasped. “What?” she asked, disbelief clear in her voice. “Why would ye do such a thing?”
James’s mouth curved faintly, though there was little humor in it. “Because me council has been pressin’ me to marry, and I need time to see that they’re silenced,” he replied evenly.
He began to pace again, though his gaze returned to her quickly. “Four weeks,” he said, holding up a hand as if to mark the measure of it. “That’s all I need, long enough to settle matters here and move ye safely south, beyond Drummond’s reach. By then he may even have a new bride.”
Eloise studied him carefully, her voice quieter now as she asked, “And what is required of me?”
James stopped before her, his expression steady as he answered, “Nothin’ beyond the agreement, I’ll nae touch ye, nor claim what isnae mine.
” He held her gaze as he added, “Ye’ll play the part, and that’s all.
” There was a pause before he continued, his tone shifting just slightly, “But while ye remain here, ye’ll answer to me, and ye’ll follow me word without question. ”
Eloise brow furrowed as she weighed his offer, uncertainty flickering beneath her composure.
“In that case,” she said at last, her voice careful, “ye might kindly tell me who ye are and where I am.”
That faint curve returned to his mouth, something more genuine this time, as he stepped back slightly. With a small, formal bow, he said, “I am James, Laird MacAllister, and ye stand in Castle Calibroch.”
He straightened, his gaze steady upon hers, the air between them charged with unspoken stakes. “So what is yer answer, lass?”
Eloise held his gaze for a long moment, her thoughts racing faster than her breath could steady.
“Aye,” she said at last, though uncertainty lingered in the word, “I’ll accept yer offer.”
The weight of it settled upon her at once, heavy and unclear, as though she had stepped into something she did not fully understand.
Is this a rescue, or a cage? I cannae tell. Only it is a path away from Drummond and that is good enough, for now.
Her eyes moved over him then, truly seeing him for the first time without the haze of fear clouding her senses.
He stood broad and unyielding, his frame marked by strength and the quiet scars of battle, his dark curls falling carelessly about a face set in control.
And those blue eyes, cold, sharp, unreadable, unnerved her even as something in her belly stirred at the sight of him.
“Then it’s settled,” James said, his voice firm, as though sealing the matter before doubt could creep in.
“I'll see it known, ye stand under me protection. Ye’ll be treated accordingly.”
“I thank ye… Laird MacAllister,” she said.
Without another word, he stepped behind her and reached for the bindings at her wrists.
Eloise stiffened at first, fear gripping her shoulders, but his movements were precise, controlled, and surprisingly gentle. The rope loosened beneath his hands, and as it fell away, his fingers brushed lightly against her skin.
A strange warmth followed the contact, unexpected and unwelcome, and she drew in a quiet breath.
“Ye’re free of that at least,” he said, stepping back as if nothing had passed between them.
Eloise flexed her hands slowly, though her gaze lingered on him a moment longer than she intended. “Aye,” she murmured, “so it seems.”
He stepped to the door and called out, “Fetch Fiona.”
Then he turned back to Eloise. “Fiona will be yer maid while ye are with us. But ye will be under watch. Daenae dare to try to leave the grounds.”
A young maid stepped in, her auburn hair tucked neatly beneath a simple cap, her expression both curious and concerned. “Me Laird,” she said, dipping into a small curtsey before glancing at Eloise. Her eyes widened slightly at the state of Eloise’s torn gown and travel-worn appearance.
“This is Eloise, ye will see to her,” James said.
“Oh, ye poor thing,” Fiona said softly, stepping closer with genuine worry in her voice.
Eloise blinked at the kindness, something in her chest loosening just a fraction. “I’ve fared worse,” she replied, though her voice softened in return.
“A hot bath, proper food, and clean clothing. She’s to be made comfortable in the green stone room.”
Fiona nodded at once, her expression brightening with purpose. “Aye, me Laird, I’ll see it done straightaway,” she said, offering Eloise a small, reassuring smile.
Eloise glanced once more at James, uncertain, before turning back to the maid.
“If ye’ll follow me,” Fiona said gently, gesturing toward the stairs. Eloise hesitated only a moment before stepping forward, falling into place beside her.
As they moved from the hall, Eloise could not help but look back over her shoulder.
Her gaze found James at once, as though drawn by something.
He stood where she had left him, unmoving, those ice-blue eyes fixed upon her with the same unreadable intensity.
For a fleeting moment, the world seemed to narrow to that single glance. She felt a shiver move through her.
Then Fiona’s voice broke through it, light and practical. “Mind yer step, the stones can be uneven,” she said, guiding Eloise up the narrow stair.
They reached a chamber tucked along the upper level, the door opening into a space far more comfortable than Eloise had expected. A large bed stood near the hearth, which had a green stone mantle. Thick furs layered upon it, while a small table and chair rested near the window.
Eloise stepped inside slowly, her gaze taking in every detail with quiet disbelief. “It’s… more than I need,” she said softly.
Fiona gave a quick shrug and replied, “The Laird doesnae do things by halves, so ye’d best grow used to it.”
Eloise turned slightly, catching sight of movement beyond the door, where a guard took his place just outside. Her brow furrowed faintly, though she said nothing of it.
Fiona noticed and gave a small, knowing smile. “It’s for yer safety,” she said lightly, though her tone held a note of practicality. “Or so they’ll say, at least.”
Eloise let out a quiet breath and nodded, unsure whether to argue the point.
“I’ll fetch yer things, clothing, food, and water for the bath,” Fiona added, already moving toward the door. “Try to rest a moment if ye can.” And with that, she slipped out, leaving Eloise alone.
Silence settled over the chamber. Eloise got to work lighting a fire in the hearth. She was not one to wait for servants to create her comfort. Her father had taught her many things and lighting a fire was one of them.
Then Eloise stood still in the center of the room. She moved slowly toward the bed, her fingers brushing over the thick furs as if to confirm they were real.
“Safe,” she murmured under her breath, though the word felt uncertain even as she spoke it.
The guard’s presence beyond the door lingered in her thoughts, a quiet reminder of where she stood.
“Safe doesnae mean free,” she added softly, her gaze drifting toward the window and the sky beyond.
This place, for all its warmth, felt like waiting, waiting for a decision, for a fate not yet decided.
And yet, despite herself, her thoughts returned to him. The Laird MacAllister, with his cold command and unyielding presence, lingered in her mind more than she cared to admit.
“Infuriatin’ man,” she muttered quietly, a faint flush touching her cheeks as she turned away. For all the fear he stirred, there was no denying what she had seen in him.
Strong, striking, and impossible to ignore, even when she wished to. Eloise sank slowly onto the edge of the bed, her breath steadying at last.
“God help me,” she whispered, almost in disbelief, “he may be the most handsome man I’ve ever seen… and now me false betrothed.”