Chapter 23
The packed earth held their footing while steel clashed against steel in short strikes. Men stood in a loose half circle, while two guards worked the central line. Alex moved among them without pause.
“Again,” he said. “Too slow.”
The pair reset, chests heaving. The taller man slid his right foot forward, the tell he never noticed.
Alex stopped beside him and pointed with the flat of his blade. “Ye lean before ye strike. An observant man will read ye like a page.”
“Aye, me Laird,” the guard said, flushing.
Alex circled once, then tapped the man’s knee, quick and sharp. “There. That is where ye fall if ye keep it.”
The guard shifted, jaw tight. Steel kissed steel again, cleaner this time. Alex watched the angle and the recovery. He still wasn’t satisfied. These men needed to do better. Much better.
“Close it,” he said. “Keep the bones stacked. Daenae give me gaps for free.”
Calum came up to his left, shadow neat on the ground. “They are weary, me Laird,” he murmured.
“Good,” Alex said, eyes still on the pair. “They must learn to fight tired. Fresh men are a gift ye willnae often get.”
A blade nicked knuckles. The younger guard hissed and shook his hand. Alex did not soften.
“Grip again,” he ordered. “Ye arenae bleeding. If ye were, ye would wrap it and continue.”
The line behind them shifted as their boots grated against the soil. A laugh rose and fell when Alex lifted his head.
“Silence,” he said flatly.
They fell quiet.
He stepped into the circle and took the taller man’s sword without asking.
“Watch,” he said.
He felt their eyes on him as he squared up to the younger man, raised his blade to guard, and spoke while he moved.
“See the weight. See the eyes. He is telling ye what is coming.”
He swerved right with a small shoulder turn, then cut left and stopped his edge a thumb from the boy’s ribs.
“Ye bit,” he said. “Why?”
The boy swallowed. “Ye showed me. I thought—”
“Daenae think with hope,” Alex cut him off. “Think with proof.”
He gave the blade back, stepped out, and looked at the half circle.
“Put yerselves in pairs. We are doing this again.”
The men nodded and began to train again.
The yard took on a rhythm Alex knew all too well. Yet, it did very little to keep his rhythm steady. He would not show it, though.
“Again,” he called. “Shorten the arc. Ye are wasting travel.”
A clumsy clash in the rear rank drew his attention, and he crossed to it in three strides. The guards watched him with part fear and part anticipation as he caught a wrist and pressed it down until the blade pointed safely.
“Ye are fighting the sword,” he said. “Fight the man. His shoulders. His hips. If his feet lie, his cut will fail.”
“Aye, me Laird.”
“Reset.”
He walked back through the center, counting heartbeats, counting breaths that were not his.
Calum lingered near the rope coil at the edge, arms folded.
“Perhaps a few hours of rest are in order, me Laird,” he said, voice low.
Alex did not look over. “A man shoved a note into Erica’s hand the other day,” he said. “I willnae take chances. The men can rest when I am done with them.”
“The rest isnae for them.”
Alex shot him a look, sweat running down his forehead. “I am nae tired.”
Calum nodded once and moved off to correct a guard’s stance at the rear.
At that moment, one of the men in the middle lost his focus and let his gaze slide past Alex’s shoulder. The blade that should have met his training partner’s cut went late and soft.
“Eyes forward,” Alex snapped.
The guard froze for half a second before recovering. “Me apologies, me Laird. ‘Tis just… the lady.”
Alex narrowed his eye. “What?”
The guard pointed behind him, and Alex turned despite himself.
Erica stood at the far edge of the path where the garden sloped toward the yard, with Leah at her side. Her hand had already caught the maid’s sleeve, a small grip that spoke of retreat before the step began.
Her gaze met his, and for a brief second, everything around them seemed to fall away. Then she broke it and turned the corner.
Something pulled sharply beneath his ribs. He exhaled slowly through his nose.
He faced the men again. “Form up,” he said. “We continue.”
Later that evening, Erica stood at the window with her palms flat on the sill. The yard lay dark and still, and her breath fogged the pane with each slow exhale that she refused to notice.
Thoughts of what had happened over the past few days crowded her mind. First, Alex tried to protect her, then he said that he wasn’t in the mood to get married. Like marriage was just something decided.
She was still lost in her thoughts when a knock sounded at the door.
“Ye may enter,” she said, expecting Leah or Grandmamma.
Alex stepped in, and her spine stiffened.
“Nay.”
“We need to talk,” he said.
“We have nothing to discuss.”
“Good,” he replied, closing the door. “Then I will talk, and ye will listen.”
He did not come close. Instead, he took the space by the fire, rested one hand on the chair’s back, and kept his gaze steady on her face.
She stared past his shoulder. “What do ye want?”
He drew a breath that seemed to catch halfway. “Me first wife,” he said, then stopped. The fire popped. He tried again. “Ye ken very well what she did to me. I told ye all about it.”
His hand moved, a small, rough sweep over his scarred eye, his chest, the air between them. Words thinned in his mouth, as if speaking them hurt.
Erica did not move.
He pushed on. “What I didnae tell ye before was that she didnae start out as the vindictive woman I described to ye. Ye see, I once kent Isabella as a rather kind woman. Nae once did I think she would become… well, what she became. I was wrong. She cut me, and she would have cut more if Calum hadnae stopped her. After that, I learned what trust costs. I learned it with blood.” His jaw set. “I cannae pay that price twice.”
Silence filled the gaps he left.
He gave her a pointed look. “I cannae trust anyone. Especially nae ye.”
Her mouth dropped open before she could stop it. “Me?”
“Aye.” His voice was quiet, and that was worse. “If ye betrayed me the way she did, I daenae ken what I would do, and frankly speaking, I daenae want to find out.”
The words landed clean. No heat. No plea. Fact, like a blade set on a table.
Erica’s fingers curled against the sill. “Then why are ye here?”
“Because the world presses in,” he said. “Because I said I will keep ye safe, and I still intend to do that. But we cannae make a mistake that we willnae be able to pull back from.”
“Ye have yet to answer me question. Why are ye here?”
He watched her for a heartbeat longer, as if judging whether she would bolt, then spoke.
“We will keep our distance and try to be courteous in public. Ye cannae see me and hurry the other way like ye did this afternoon. That would only feed rumors, and I ken ye daenae want that. I will post guards at yer door, and I will read every letter that comes in or goes out. Ye will tell me if any man comes near ye that ye didnae ask for.”
“Any man,” she repeated, her voice flat.
“Aye.”
Something about the irony of that statement almost made her laugh, but she didn’t. Instead, the line of her mouth hardened. “Ye speak of trust like it is a coin ye own alone.”
“I speak of what I can survive,” he said.
Her laugh was short. “And what can I survive then?”
His answer did not come.
“That’s what I thought,” she whispered, folding her arms. “If that is all, ye can leave.”
“That is nae all.” He stood straighter. “We arenae finished.”
“I am.”
He did not move. “Then I will finish it.” His voice softened, and the shift pricked at her temper harder than any needle. “Ye are in danger.”
She scoffed. “Now I truly ken ye have nothing to say.”
“MacGee isnae to be underestimated,” he said.
She swallowed. “I never underestimated him in the first place. Nae before, and definitely nae now when he’s sending notes.”
Alex exhaled, and silence settled between them.
Erica’s anger seemed to have subsided, and all that was left now was a lingering frustration she was struggling to swallow.
“He will claim me,” she forced out. “He said as much. He said it at Bryden. He said it with his hands at the festival. Since we have yet to find me faither, he will try again.”
“Daenae say that,” Alex snapped, the first edge of heat breaking through.
“It is the truth.”
His fists closed and opened once at his sides, a man fighting something he could not set a blade to.
“Nay,” he said tightly. “Nae while ye are under me roof.”
“Unfortunately, Laird MacMillan, yer roof can only do so much,” she said.
He stepped toward her, but she did not yield. They stood a breath apart, the air feeling thin.
Erica lifted her chin to look straight at him. “If ye came to scold me for being in danger, I cannae help it. Save yer breath.”
“I came to stop ye from running blind,” he said. “And to offer what I can give.”
“Another disappointing news about how ye cannae get married again?” The words slipped free before she could catch them. “Kindness? Then fear? Then rules?”
He let out a slow breath, and the fight in his stance eased into weight. “Listen,” he said, “we daenae have to marry.”
She blinked. The ground under her seemed to shift. “We daenae have to—”
“I will protect ye regardless.” He held her gaze so she could see that he meant it. “Ye will have me name at yer back when ye need it. Me men. Me walls. I will see ye to safety, and when ye finally find out what happened to yer faither, I will see ye home.”
Chills slid down her spine. “And if the truth doesnae come fast enough?”
He looked at the fireplace for a moment, as if counting the coals, then back. “There is another path.”
“I am listening.”
“Marriage,” he said.
Her heart lurched hard, only to sink at the next words.
“A white marriage.”
She stared at him as if he had just spoken a foreign language. “What?”
“Protection without what breaks a house.” His voice stayed level. “Nay intimacy. Nay claim of love. Nay bed shared. Ye ken, we daenae have to—”
“Aye, I ken what a white marriage is.”
Alex nodded. “It would shield ye from men like MacGee. It would also quell the rumors about ye. It would give ye time to find out what happened to yer faither and braither, and it would keep me council from pressuring me into a match I daenae want. ‘Tis the perfect solution, really.”
She heard the shape of it and felt the cut anyway. “A bargain.”
“Aye.”
She looked past him to the chair by the fire. Safety had a face now, and it looked like a door that would never open all the way.
“So ye want to make our arrangement permanent. That is what ye’re saying. Ye want me to stay here forever as yer wife but nae yer wife. Nae really.”
“Ye just say the word,” Alex responded. “I will send a message to the priest, and we will keep it quiet and sign what must be signed. Ye will have peace to seek the truth.”
She licked her lips. “Ye said we daenae have to marry.”
He nodded once. “We daenae.”
“Then why offer this?”
“Because I have seen what men like MacGee make of fear. I willnae watch him try to own ye.”
“So instead of MacGee, ye will be the one to own me?”
He flinched. “That isnae what I said.”
Her jaw worked. “Owning is still owning, even if the hands look kinder.”
“I daenae want to own ye, Erica.”
“What do ye want then?” she asked, and hated herself for wanting an answer that would not crush her.
He looked away. “What I assume ye want more than anything—to keep ye alive.”
They remained awfully still as the small sounds of the room settled around them. Even the clock in her head was louder than before.
Her nails dug into her palms. “And what happens to me heart during this arrangement, Alex?”
He did not answer. He did not have to.
She drew a breath that shook and steadied it by force. “I will think on it.”
“Good.” He looked toward the door, then back. “Think on it, lass.”
He opened the door, paused as if there was more, found nothing that would not make it worse, then left. The door clicked shut behind him.
Erica stood very still. The fire flickered and danced. She let the quiet fill every corner until it had weight.
She put her hand on the cold sill and looked down at the dark yard one more time, weighing her options. A marriage that protected everything except her heart, or a life outside it that protected her heart against everything.