Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The drawing room at Castle McMurphy was one of Lydia’s favorite places in the entire keep—usually a sanctuary of warmth and quiet conversation, a place where the fire cracked softly and sunlight spilled through mullioned windows, catching dust motes in gentle gold.
Today, however, the room felt suffocating.
A storm had rolled in from the northern hills, pressing low clouds against the sky and dimming the usual morning light.
The heavy velvet drapes, deep blue embroidered with silver thistles, hung half-drawn, casting long shadows across the carved walnut furniture and the soft heather-colored carpet.
A vase of late-autumn flowers sat on the table between the sofas, their petals drooping slightly, as if even they sensed the disturbance in the air.
Lydia sat curled at the edge of the settee, her hands wrapped around a warm cup of tea she had not yet tasted.
Iris sat beside her, working half-heartedly at a bit of embroidery, her needle motion slow, distracted.
Across from them, Elijah stood with a ledger in one hand, his quill poised, looking far too stern for so early an hour.
Firelight licked at the edges of his hair, catching hints of gold that might have given him a charming air if not overshadowed by the tension in his jaw.
A knock shattered the quiet, sharp and urgent.
Elijah lifted his head, frowning, just as surprised at this early call as Lydia and Iris were.
“Enter,” he called, his baritone voice booming in the room.
A guard stepped inside—breathless enough that Lydia sat up in alarm. Frost clung to his beard and cloak, as though he had ridden fast and far. Mud streaked his boots. His eyes darted briefly to Lydia before locking on Elijah, and Lydia felt her stomach fill with dread.
“Me Laird,” the guard said, bowing swiftly, “ye need to hear this at once.”
Elijah set aside his ledger, taking a few steps closer to the man. Lydia could feel the concern radiating off him in waves, see the way he held himself stiff and straight-backed, as if already preparing to ride out into battle.
“Report.”
“It’s the borderlands, Me Laird… the northern pass near the Rowan Ridge.” The guard’s breath trembled with cold or unease—Lydia couldn’t tell which. “There are troops gatherin’ there, armed and bearin’ the crest of Clan McDawson.”
The room seemed to tilt. Lydia glanced first at Iris, who was pallid, the color draining from her face, then at Elijah, who stared at the window behind him over his shoulder, as if he could somehow see all the way to Rowan Ridge.
She straightened so abruptly the tea sloshed in her cup. “McDawson troops? Ye’re certain?”
The guard nodded quickly. “Aye, Me Lady.”
Her heart kicked hard against her ribs, a flutter of hope—fragile, foolish, and unstoppable. “Kieran,” she whispered, gripping the edge of the settee. “He must be here. Perhaps he’s come to—”
“Lydia,” Elijah said gently but firmly, “why would Kieran bring troops if he wished only to speak with ye?”
The breath she’d drawn stuck painfully in her chest. In her relief, in her excitement, she hadn’t stopped to consider that.
She hadn’t thought past the desperate, aching hope that he might have changed his mind, that the man who had turned away from her with steel in his voice and fear in his eyes had realized his mistake.
Her lips parted, but no sound emerged. She wanted to say something, anything that could counter Elijah’s logic, but the more she thought about it, the more she realized he had to be right.
Iris set down her embroidery, her expression sharp with confusion. “Troops at the borderlands? Why? There’s nay tension between our clans. Nae a hint of unrest.”
Elijah nodded. “Aye. And sendin’ men into another laird’s territory without warnin’…” His frown deepened. “It’s provocative at best. Hostile at worst.”
Lydia pressed her hand to her abdomen, a protective instinct she could no longer fight or hide. Her pulse throbbed under her palm. “But Kieran would never start a conflict. He’s nae rash like that. Besides, what reason does he have to attack ye?”
A cold dread passed through her, chilling her to the bone. She looked at her sister, her hand trembling as she reached for her.
“It’s nae him,” Lydia said, something that Kieran had said in passing rushing back to her now. “It’s Sebastian. Who else would order McDawson troops?”
Iris inhaled sharply, her hand tightening around Lydia’s like a vice. “His uncle?”
“Aye,” said Lydia. “Kieran has been suspectin’ him for a while now.”
Elijah’s gaze was sharp when it landed on Lydia. He took a slow, controlled breath, his hand instinctively reaching for the dirk strapped around his waist, his palm resting over the hilt.
“And ye lived in that castle with that man so close to ye?” Iris asked, the color returning to her cheeks. Instantly, her face was painted a deep red with fury, and she pushed herself to her feet, pacing back and forth in front of the couch.
It wasn’t often Lydia saw her sister so enraged—at least not anymore. She wanted nothing more than to reach for her, to comfort her, but Lydia was a force of nature now, uncontainable and relentless.
It was always like this when she felt that Lydia was threatened in any way—even more so now, when she knew her life was in danger.
“We dinnae ken, Iris,” Lydia said softly. “It was only recently that Kieran realized his uncle might be behind all this. He dinnae even have solid proof before I left.”
Iris stopped her incessant pacing and came to a halt in front of Lydia, hovering over her, her face a storm.
“Ye’ve been in grave danger all this time,” she said. “And the man responsible for it was right under yer husband’s nose. Well… when I see him, I’m certainly givin’ him a piece of me mind.”
“Iris, he couldnae have known,” Lydia said pleadingly, pushing herself up to her feet as well to pull her sister into a loose embrace. “Please… please see reason. I daenae blame him for this, and neither should ye.”
Iris drew in a shuddering breath, one that seemed to calm her a little. But as Lydia kept her arms wrapped around her, she could feel her practically vibrating, still unable to contain her rage.
“Then Sebastian must be a very cunnin’ man,” said Elijah, approaching them slowly.
He placed a hand on her shoulder, also trying to calm her, and Lydia let go of her, giving them some space.
“If he has fooled Kieran so thoroughly… if he has fooled everyone around him, then he’s surely very dangerous. ”
Lydia couldn’t deny that. She had never considered Sebastian as such a big threat, but it seemed he had truly made everyone think he was harmless when, in fact, he was the most dangerous of them all.
A wolf in sheep’s clothin’.
“Can we be certain it’s him?” Iris asked.
Elijah shook his head. “Nay. But he seems the most likely. An uncle, someone with valid claim to the lairdship, someone most wouldnae suspect.”
Lydia’s throat tightened painfully. The room seemed colder, smaller, as if the stone walls were closing in on her.
“But do ye truly think he is so desperate that he would come here with an army?” Lydia asked. “Why would he do such a thing? He’s been working from the shadows all this time. He has killed so many people in secret… Why would he come here now to fight?”
“Because he’s desperate,” said Elijah. “Because of the bairn… or because Kieran has found out the truth about him. Either way, he is desperate now, Lydia, and that makes him even more dangerous.”
“Ye think he kens about the bairn?” Lydia asked, her breath hitching in her throat. Her hand came to rest over her stomach, trying to reassure herself.
Surely, Kieran wouldn’t let anything happen to her. Surely, he would try to stop Sebastian.
But what if he doesnae know? What if Sebastian left without anyone findin’ out?
Not only was Lydia in danger, but her presence in Castle McMurphy made her a liability. She was putting everyone else around her in danger just by existing—her sister, Elijah, every soul in the keep would soon be at Sebastian’s mercy.
“I will ride to the borderlands meself,” Elijah announced, already striding toward the door. “We’ll find out what their intentions are before they come any closer.”
“Nay,” Lydia said, approaching him on unsteady legs. She couldn’t let him go to the borderlands. He was needed here, with Iris, where he could protect her. If Sebastian attacked the keep, then Lydia could trust no one else to keep her sister safe. “Ye cannae leave! What if—”
“I must,” he said gently, interrupting her. “I’m the Laird here, and I’ll nae let any armed men near the keep without understandin’ their purpose. Iris, stay with yer sister.”
Iris nodded though worry tightened her face.
She didn’t try to argue with Elijah, and so Lydia knew her sister thought this was the best course of action.
But even though Lydia trusted her judgement, she couldn’t help but feel this was a mistake.
She couldn’t help but feel she was putting everyone in danger and that she shouldn’t be there.
But she didn’t try to argue. She knew there was little point in it anyway if Elijah had already made up his mind.
Lydia’s voice shook. “If Kieran isnae with those men… then he doesnae ken they’re here.”
Elijah paused by the door, casting a glance at Lydia over his shoulder.
“Nay,” he said quietly. “He likely doesnae.”
Lydia swallowed hard around the knot in her throat. She imagined Kieran back at the keep, unaware of the danger she was facing now. She imagined him finding out. She imagined him blaming himself for it because, of course, he would.
And her heart shattered at the thought.
“Then he doesnae ken,” she whispered, her hand drifting to her stomach again, “that we’re in danger.”
Elijah’s expression softened with sympathy—and something grimmer underneath. “Stay inside. Keep to the interior rooms. I’ll send word the moment we learn anythin’.”
Then, he shut the door behind him, leaving the sisters standing together in a room that no longer felt safe.
The door had barely clicked shut behind him before the silence in the drawing room changed.
It grew thicker, weighted—not the comfortable hush that usually filled the halls, but something taut and stretched thin, like a string drawn too tight.
The fire crackled softly in the hearth, sparks spitting as if in warning. Outside, wind pressed against the tall windows, rattling them in their frames. The storm rolling over the hills deepened the shadows in every corner of the room.
Iris crossed the space in three swift steps and wrapped her arms around Lydia. The warmth of her embrace contrasted painfully with the cold growing in Lydia’s chest, and she welcomed the embrace, falling into it as if her legs could hardly support her.
“Lydia,” Iris murmured, stroking her back, “ye’re tremblin’.”
Lydia hadn’t realized it—her hands, her breath, her whole body was shaking with the sudden force of her dread. She pulled away, just far enough to search her sister’s face, her eyes burning.
“Iris… if this is about me—” Her voice cracked, but she drew in a sharp breath and forced herself to speak. “If Sebastian sent those men… if he comes here, then it’s me fault.”
Iris’s brows snapped together, and she shook her head vehemently, pulling back from Lydia to look her in the eye. “Lydia… nay. I daenae even want ye to think such a thing.”
“It is.” Lydia pressed a hand to her sternum, trying to steady the rising panic.
“If Elijah rides into danger, it’s because of me.
If those troops attack, it’s because Sebastian wants to hurt me.
I’m the reason there’s risk at the borderlands.
I’m the reason… I’m the reason this house may come under threat. If anythin’ happens to ye or Elijah—”
Iris caught her face between both palms, her touch firm and grounding. “Stop it. Right now.”
Lydia blinked, stunned into silence by the sudden steel in her sister’s voice.
Iris continued, tone low and fierce. “Nae a single thing that man does is yer fault. His actions are his own, and he will bear the consequences of them. Elijah kens what he’s doing. He’s the Laird here, and he’s trained for this. It’s nae yer job to shield us from what’s happenin’.”
“But I—”
“But nothin’,” Iris said, shaking her head. “Ye listen to me, Lydia. None of this blame belongs to ye. Nae one sliver of it.”
Lydia’s throat tightened painfully. Tears pricked hot behind her eyes, and she tried her best not to shed them; she had already worried her sister enough.
“But if they come here lookin’ for me—”
“They willnae get close.” Iris pulled her into her arms again, holding her tight. “This keep is safer than any other place in the Highlands. And Elijah will have riders ready before those men so much as cross the ridge.”
Lydia let herself lean into her sister, inhaling the familiar scent of lavender and hearth smoke clinging to Iris’s hair. For a moment she felt small—like they were children again, and Iris was shielding her from a nightmare.
Her hand drifted to her abdomen, thumb brushing slowly over the fabric of her gown. Iris felt the shift and gently laid her own hand atop Lydia’s.
“All ye have to worry about,” Iris whispered, “is the health of yer bairn. Elijah will take care of everythin’ else. He’ll protect his people, protect this home… protect ye.”
“But what if Sebastian reaches the keep before Elijah returns? What if—”
“He willnae,” Iris said firmly. “Ye are nae alone here, Lydia. We have guards, walls, allies… and Elijah’s scouts already watchin’ the ridges. Nae one will get past them without him knowin’. And once Elijah learns what’s truly happenin’, he’ll send for Kieran immediately.”
It was true. Even if Kieran didn’t yet know, even if Sebastian had managed to rally the troops loyal to him without anyone finding out, then Elijah would surely send word once he knew if it was truly Sebastian and if he confirmed he was going to attack.
But even if he came, there was something still unresolved between them—something she would have to face, sooner or later.
“What if I cannae forgive him,” Lydia whispered, her voice trembling, “even if he comes?”
Iris cupped her cheek gently. “Then daenae. Love and forgiveness arenae the same thing. You owe him nothin’ he hasnae earned.”
Lydia nodded, though the motion was slow and heavy. Iris rocked them both gently as the storm outside intensified, the wind howling across the keep’s stone walls, and for a long moment, Lydia let herself sink into the warmth, the closeness, and the comfort of her sister’s presence.
But under it all, a cold certainty was spreading through her chest—if Sebastian truly was coming for her, time was running thin, and the man she needed most might not reach her in time to stop him.