Chapter 16
The day of the exchange had arrived, and Keegan’s mind was too far from the field where they stood.
Dammit, ye bastard. Ye mustn’t think on the lass. Nae now.
Still, he had been at war with himself for the past handful of days now, and it had done him precisely no good. Willow had infected his thoughts with a magic that would not be ignored. He dreamed of touching her, tasting her, and his entire being called out for more—so much more.
A crisp wind rushed past his face, and Keegan shook himself. He needed to focus. There was so much at stake—more than even he cared to admit even to himself—and his mind was required on the moments ahead, nothing else.
Keegan called on the training he’d put himself through, the years of hones skills, and filled himself with an awareness of the here and now, nothing beyond the present moment.
Ye have prepared for this. Remain steadfast.
The preparations he’d made bolstered the laird’s resolve. He had done everything he could think of to create the best environment for a successful outcome. They were here at the open field as he’d suggested, and his men stood behind him with Magnus’s forces across the vast expanse between them.
They had marched into place only moments ago, and from the crowd, Keegan attempted to pick out his sister. Scanning over the bodies took several moments, but a sigh of exquisite relief overtook him as he saw her there, positioned to the rear and left of Magnus.
“She’s there, Brother. We can finally be done with all this.”
Damon’s mood had been as sour as ever, and were it not for a thought that he would not acknowledge, Keegan would be as excited about this exchange as his brother was.
“Aye,” Keegan replied, then called out over his shoulder so that only his men would hear. “Keep yer heads, men. I have informed ye of McCallum’s fondness for tricks.”
“Aye!” They asserted, and Keegan’s stare errantly went to the woman standing in the middle of Rodrick and Damon.
Willow was just there, and she looked over the field as if she were expecting the worst. There was no mistaking the furrow to her brow, and he swallowed hard. Her stare found him in that moment, and the two of them stood there, locked in that space for an unknown stretch of time.
A gnawing ache claimed Keegan’s chest and stomach as he held Willow’s eyes. He could not explain it, but the apprehensive, yearning gaze he knew he wore—if subtly—was reflected in her own.
Ye must give her back, Keegan. Ye must give her back.
He worked to ease his tension, and it was not working. No matter how he reminded himself of reality, something within him cried out for a fantasy that could never be made flesh.
“The MacMillans arenae here.”
Keegan finally broke his stare with Willow to regard Rodrick.
As the words sunk in, the laird cast his eyes over the field once more.
It was true. The MacMillans were nowhere in sight, and it was odd to think that Willow’s betrothed would not be there to see the exchange.
She had been stolen on her way to wed him, after all.
She was set to marry the laird’s brother. Why wouldnae the man wish to see her returned to Magnus unharmed? To ensure the arrangement could go through?
When—against better judgment—the laird turned back toward Willow once more, he saw her grim expression. She’d heard Rodrick, of course, and there was no denying that her groom-to-be was not in attendance.
Nae a single person in her life appears to value her. Such little regard is tossed in her direction. It is a disgrace.
His thoughts had gotten carried away again, and Keegan forced himself to turn back toward the center distance just as Damon shouted, “Magnus!”
Pointing, Damon gestured toward the field, and every muscle in Keegan’s body went rigid.
“Remain with Damon and Rodrick, Lady Willow,” Keegan chewed out, his tone somber and dark. “When the time comes, I will call for ye.”
There was no response from her, but Keegan could feel Willow’s stare driving a blade through the back of his head.
He could not look back. He just…couldn’t.
Melissa needed him, and the thought to do something rash was too near the service.
Looking back at Willow…it would have sealed a fate he didn’t know if he was prepared to serve.
Magnus approached the center of the space between their lines, and Keegan was quick to follow suit. Melissa remained with Magus’s men in a similar face as Willow. Seconds dragged on into eternity until they at last stood face to face in the middle of their troops of warriors.
Daenae give him an inch, Keegan.
Pain of regret, memories of the past, and so much more than the laird would not allow himself to name, swirled through him.
He stood there in the silence, eyeing the smug McCallum bastard like the horrid thief he was.
As the man cocked a brow at him, the need to say something finally overtook Keegan.
“I daenae see the MacMillans here to watch over the handoff of their bride. Were they too busy?”
Magnus sneered, a puff of breath leaving his nostrils like a bloated boar.
“Pft. I shouldnae presume to understand what the MacMillians fill their days with. I can only assume that they have canceled the engagement.”
Keegan’s stomach dropped, and he clenched his fist where it rested on the pommel of his sword.
“What cause would they have to do that?”
A horrid laugh was choked out by Laird McCallum, and Keegan swallowed down the urge to unsheathe his sword and swing it through the bloody ingrate's stomach.
“Willow was taken by yerself, wasnae she? I can only assume that her husband-to-be dinnae enjoy the idea of placing his saber in a scabbard that had already been cleaved through.”
“What?”
Keegan had obviously heard the man well enough. However, despite everything he personally knew about the man and what Willow had told him herself, it was still somehow impossible to believe that such words had left his mouth.
“She was taken by another man! Bah,” Magnus rolled his eyes, “her reputation is utterly destroyed. I would’ve thought that was part of yer lofty goals, Brahanne.”
Bile rushed up the back of Keegan’s throat. He had…done things with Willow that his mind knew he should regret, but he had not claimed her virtue, not entirely. The idea that he was believed to be such a brute was both enraging and enough to fill him to his hairline with guilt.
There had been no moment where he possessed the intention to ruin the lass’s chances of a solid marriage match.
Regret pulsed through him at the notion of doing her even that bit of harm.
He had never, in fact, thought to be near her at all.
Still, everything about Willow had pulled him in, a moth to the flame and just as singed.
But he hadn’t claimed her.
And Willow did not deserve the scourge of that slight against her name or virtue. There were few a lass who did, but especially not the woman who had bargained so bravely for the safety of her men.
At once, a grimmer thought took hold of Keegan. His stare roamed across the field and again landed on the slim figure that stood behind Magnus’s line of savage-looking warriors.
His Melissa, the sister who had been the heart of their unruly crew of three, was currently standing held behind the front line of Magnus’s men. Had she suffered a similar fate to the one the bastard was describing? Had he…touched her?
There was no doubt in Laird Brahanne’s mind that Willow had been a willing participant in their time together.
Still, the same could not be said about Melissa.
She would want nothing to do with such a foul man, and she had possessed her own anger for his abuse of their family—the death of their parents.
“And what of me sister, Magnus?” Keegan would not call the foul scum of the earth Laird. “Have ye seen fit to ruin her reputation?”
The man scoffed, tossing his head back before lazily returning his attention to Keegan.
“I havenae touched yer precious Melissa.” He smirked—an evil slash through his face that turned Keegan’s stomach. “The lass is far too scrawny and skittish for me likin'. I prefer them round and ready to serve their laird.”
If it weren’t for the iron hold Keegan maintained over himself at nearly all times, he would have heaved his breakfast onto the man’s feet. ‘Hell,’ he thought, ‘if it dinnae make me look weak, the thought of tarnishing his leathers is quite appealing.’
Still, Keegan was done delaying the exchange another moment. It was far beyond time to get this over with, and even as every bit of him ached over the thought of Willow returning with her brother, he’d made a promise. And he was nothing if not a man of his word.
“Let us be done with this, Magnus. Send forth Melissa, and I will retrieve,” Keegan had to swallow down a sudden lump in his throat, “yer Willow.”
Magnus cast a lackadaisical glance over the field. He appeared so utterly disinterested that every near in Keegan’s body felt ground down by the abrasiveness of it.
“I daenae see the spoiled lass. Are ye perhaps hidin' the evidence of her demise?”
If the man were genuinely concerned for his sister’s fate, Keegan imagined that the McCallum would not sound so wearied. In every other way aside from his literal words, Magnus appeared incredibly disinterested in the fate of his sister, and Keegan’s stomach churned.
He had not wanted to accept the possibility that family could be so cold to each other, but still, the man must have a sense of pride at least. Retrieving his stolen “property” must matter to the man.
“She is there, Magnus,” Keegan bit out, his temper bleeding through his words.
Laird Brahanne raised a hand, gesturing for Willow to be brought to the edge of the front line so that her brother might see her more clearly.
He still would not allow her any closer, however.
She remained a bargaining tool, yes, and even more, Keegan was not sure of her safety among the warriors lined up on the other side.
It should have been something he took greater note of, the way that he was still so concerned about the lass’s safety, but again, Keegan would not let his mind travel those roads. Little good came from indulging your heart or desires too much.
He would not make that mistake again.
“Ah, so she is. Ye havenae lied.” Magnus regarded him, his beady eyes leering from under his thick brow. “A man of yer word. Aye, it is so.”
“Let us get a move on, Magnus. I daenae have till the sun is up the morrow.”
The other laird looked past him at Willow, and Keegan’s grip on his pommel tightened.
“Apologies, Laird Brahanne, but ye see, I fail to understand what use I could have for a spoiled sister who I cannae be using to secure alliances as a result of yer little…theft.”
Keegan felt as if a horse had thrown him or he had been riding in a carriage that came to a sudden halt.
Furrowing his brow, Keegan went rigid, his body tensing so that he might be ready for an attack. “What?”
“I will give ye this then.”
Unease pinched its way through Keegan’s guts.
He could sense something was off with Magnus.
Whatever he might have been preparing for, Laird McCallum was sure to do something else.
He’d come to recognize that about the man over the years, and after what happened with his father, Keegan refused to treat the man with anything but suspicion.
“A much fairer way to be paying for the return of yer unsullied sister. A piece of Brahanne land for the lass. What say ye?”