Chapter 11
“Ithink that will be best. Och, well,” Keegan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I believe that we are set for the day, lads. Ye’re dismissed.”
The men of his war council slipped from the room, all just as tired as he was following the hours-long discussion.
It had been productive, and for that, Keegan was grateful.
Feuds, as people liked to call them, between the McCallums and the Brahannes were a decades-long tradition, and they’d been at an impasse for far too long.
This exchange should settle the ire of Magnus if only to show him that his aggressions would be returned in kind.
God pray that is enough to dissuade the man from continuing this nonsense.
In any case, it would be most unwise to continue them any further. Perhaps the bastard would finally give up in his attempts to win Brahanne’s land.
It was much quieter now that the men had left the room, and Keegan’s stomach gnawed at him, having been too distracted to finish his dinner.
However, the need to rest his head also pulled at him.
The softness of his bed was an exceptionally welcome thought.
He wasn’t sure if sleep or food sounded more appealing at the moment.
An image of Willow in his study bloomed in his mind, and Keegan let out a pained groan. As much as he should not be thinking about any of that, it appeared that the true hunger racking his body was not the kind that would be satisfied by a meal.
Ye willnae be distracted, Keegan. Come now.
Further, the laird still did not understand what had possessed him to kiss her—again. It was far from a helpful tactic if he were trying to get answers out of Willow, and it didn’t lend itself to the notion that she was the enemy either.
But there was something about her. Whenever she fought against him like that, verbally sparring with him, the fever in Keegan’s blood rose to monumental proportions. A woman of her equal was not a sight that he had ever laid on eyes before.
Enough, Keegan. Ye must focus on what is at stake.
He looked down at the map that he had placed on the large table for the men to observe. They had formed a strategy for the exchange he was pleased with. Still, there would be no guaranteeing its success with the limited information he possessed. There were too many possible outcomes to consider.
Worse, what troubled him more than any of the usual unknows of battle or politics was the way Willow herself doubted that her brother would even be interested in such an exchange.
An exhausted courier had ridden all day and into the evening to return a letter from Magnus stating his agreement to the hand-off.
He had been presented with the thing just thirty minutes ago.
Why would Magnus say yes if he had no intention of upholding his end of the agreement?
And worse again, Keegan knew that there was only one way to fill in the gasp of his knowledge. He needed to speak with Willow—and actually do some talking this time around.
Steeling himself as he straightened his spine, Keegan sucked in a breath of fresh air and headed toward the door. He could not wait to speak with her; too much was at stake and there was only a week before the exchange.
No distractions, Keegan. Ye will ask the lass for answers, and that is all. Learn what ye need and resist temptation.
Keegan had not been so affected by a woman’s presence in the whole of his life, save a handful of boyish longings. Inviting someone into his life had always seemed too dangerous a thing, and after what happened with his parents, he was certain of it.
Why was Willow any different? He scoffed to himself. It was no use to ponder such trivialities. He had important work to be done, and getting answers from the lady was just a means to an end. That was all.
Thinking of the time, Keegan assumed that with the later hour now Willow would most likely be found within the Great Hall once more. Dinner would be served there at present, and Rodrick had seen fit to guide her there once already.
Taking off in that direction, Keegan swallowed and pushed any thought of Willow’s form from his mind. She was a prison, one that he needed to interrogate, even if rather gently as compared to his usual methods.
Upon entering the Great Hall, Keegan was satisfied to see Willow seated at a table near the laird’s usual place, Rodrick on guard nearby.
“Good evening, me laird.” A servant near the door offered. “Have ye come to join us for a meal?”
“Aye. Thank ye.” Loud conversation drew his attention to Damon and Willow. “It looks as though I’m needed at present, however.”
Keegan was not encouraged to see his brother still badgering the woman like an angry rain cloud over her head.
“I ken what yer clan is like, woman. Yer brother.” Damon chewed out.
It was unsurprising that Damon was still upset or that Rodrick was not of a mind to stop his brother from pestering Willow. Damon was war chief, second just below Keegan himself, and Rodrick’s words would mean little to the man when he was still so out of sorts because of Melissa’s capture.
Lord, what has gotten into ye, brother? Ye are usually so at ease about everything.
Keegan stalked toward the table where Willow sat just as the tension between the two of them hit a peak.
“Ye should be in a cell. And ye have not a single air of guilt about ye. Does kidnappin' and likely torturin' a lass not surprise the sister of Laird MacCallum? Did he teach ye how to rape and plunder like the best of his warriors?”
No one in the room said a word, too afraid of Damon’s wrath when he was in so foul a mood. Well, Keegan was not so terrified of his younger brother, and of anyone, the man would be forced to listen to his Laird.
“Enough, Damon.”
Keegan’s voice penetrated the length of the hall with all the power of a cannon blast. He was still several paces away from them, and as his brother and Willow looked in his direction, Keegan noticed two things.
His brother appeared more annoyed than guilty for disregarding direct orders, which would not do. And Willow seemed…resigned to it all.
Without anything else to go on, it seemed to the laird that Willow was used to such behavior, such animosity being thrust at her with no one to step up and put an end to it.
Odd. And the lass said that her brother would not be interested in the exchange…
After a moment, Damon’s countenance abruptly changed, and the surprise of being caught in his actions played over his features.
Closing in on them, Keegan watched—the fury in his blood boiling over—as Damon turned back to Willow, jabbing a finger in her face as he whispered something too low for him to hear. But Keegan could guess.
Reaching his brother, Keegan grabbed Damon by the nape of the neck and hauled him back from Willow, allowing him to tumble to the floor as he shoved him away.
“Ye have gone against a direct order, Damon.” The laird glared down with the fury of the sun. “And I daenae like to repeat meself.”
Hauling himself up off the floor, Damon scowled, his brow down low over his similarly colored eyes. The malice behind those irises was something that Keegan had never seen before, and at once, he was reminded of how much his brother cared for Melissa.
It was not simply that Magnus had taken a clansman prisoner or claimed another warrior.
This was family, and both of them knew how family fared against Magnus’s blade.
Melissa was an innocent trapped with a fiend, and behind all that wrath that swam through Damon’s blood was fear.
The two of them—Damon and Melissa—were thick as thieves, after all, and it was evident that Damon was far past being distraught about the loss.
He was broken.
“Och, brother,” Keegan warned, his heart fighting his logic when it came to setting an example of Damon. “Daenae make me do this. I know ye grieve, ye rage, but ye need to stop.”
“Melissa’s captor. The man who has stolen her from us has his own blood right here—in our hands. If he willnae pay for takin' her, then his kin should be tasked with it!”
Keegan could see the unshed tears clinging to Damon’s eyes. He would not allow them to fall. The laird’s heart broke for the pain his brother suffered, and in truth, he had considered as much when this proposal to steal Willow had been hatched.
But he simply couldn’t bring himself to harm her. The moment he’d seen her in the carriage, Keegan knew that despite his rage, injuring Willow would never be permitted under his watch.
“Go to yer chambers, brother. I willnae see yer face in me hall.”
Damon recoiled, his jaw dropping before he quickly snapped it shut again. “Ye willnae permit me to enjoy me dinner?”
“Ye willnae be allowed to dine with us tonight. Should ye need food, ye can take it up with the kitchens. Though they willnae be permitted to do anythin' extra for ye.”
It was a child’s punishment, sending Damon off to his room without supper. But should the man continue to act like one, Keegan would be forced to treat him as such.
Damon stormed off, not saying another word but swiping both a loaf of bread and a bottle of ale from the table before exiting.
Keegan sighed. This was becoming so damned tiresome.
He needed this exchange to progress. Melissa needed to be returned home, or the kind soul that was his brother might never be seen again.
Silence hung over the room until Keegan pulled his head up from his hand, having rubbed the palm over his eyes and scruff. As he looked over the room, he knew that he must say something.
“Return to yer feastin'. And let this be a reminder to ye about disobeying yer laird.”
A chorus of “Yes, me laird” rang out through the room, the assembled going back to the meals. Keegan turned around to face Willow and found her still seated at the table behind him, awe painted over her features.
“Why…why did ye do that?”
Her voice was quiet, and there was no mistaking the hurt behind the confusion in her tone.
“I have said that I will protect ye, lass. Ye are nae to be harmed when ye reside in me castle.”
Willow stood up, walking closer to him. Her eyes switched between the floor and his own stare, and Keegan couldn’t help but smile ever so slightly.
“He is yer brother. And he isnae wrong. I am the sister of the enemy. Ye have nay call to be protective of me.”
Regarding her, Keegan thought about how familiar with the torment Willow had seemed. It was quite likely that Magnus was as much of a bastard to his family as he was to everyone else. And again, he sought to make a clear distinction between him and that man for everyone that he could.
“I am nae yer brother, Willow. I daenae wish to see anyone harmed who doesnae deserve it.” He lowered his head, staring at the lass from under his brow. “Nae even me brother is allowed to disobey me, and I will be sure to see me orders upheld by every clansman.”
“I…” The shock still played over her face, and Keegan raised his brows as the woman seemed at a loss for words before quickly shaking herself back into order. “Thank ye, Laird Brahanne. Yer kindness doesnae go unnoticed.”
He scoffed. “I should hope so, lass. And,” Keegan sighed, his head angling toward the doors through which Damon exited, “daenae think too unfavorably of me brother. Melissa and he are verra close. Nearly inseparable aside from this fraught moment. He is angry and lashing out at anyone that he can.”
Willow looked down at the floor, and Keegan watched her eyes as they moved with her thoughts.
“I shouldnae think I would be much better would someone harm me sister, Lilith. She is the dearest thing to me.”
Keegan nodded, an understanding growing within him for her meaning. She had done what she needed to do to protect her men, and Willow was making it clear that she would do just as much and more to safeguard her sister.
He liked that—much more than he should.
“Can I sit with ye? I will admit to being quite famished.”
Another startled look crossed over her face, and Lord, it was quite enjoyable to see Willow so at a loss for words sometimes.
He knew he needn't ask to sit with her, but again, Keegan wished to display how he was not a man of Magnus’s design.
And it was also quite beneficial if he did indeed want to speak to the lass regarding her troublesome brother.
“Of course, Laird Brahanne. Though, would ye nae be more comfortable at yer table?” Willow gestured over her shoulder.
“Och, what is life without a bit of change? Eh, lassie?” He smirked. “I think I shall take me meal right here.”
Keegan lifted his arm to gain the attention of one of his servants. In an impressive hurry, a plate of food that he would typically take at his Laird’s seat was presented to him right next to Willow’s—half-eaten and not so full of the best cuts as his.
“Are ye still hungry?” He asked.
With her brows up again, Willow nodded. “Aye.”
“Well, then,” Keegan put a hunk of his cooked bird on her plate. “We shall eat.”