Chapter 10
“When can we expect Laird MacIrvin’s visit?” Lord Mortimer asked. He was one of the more traditional council members and had been the most vocal in demanding that Magnus either make an alliance or find a wife.
“When he’s ready,” Magnus replied gruffly. “They have just had a bairn.”
Kenneth cleared his throat from the back of the room, and Magnus sighed, glancing back at him as he forced himself to soften his tone.
“It was a good exchange,” he conceded. “We have agreed to meet, and he is open to the alliance. I will ensure he feels welcome when he arrives.”
It was a half-truth. Magnus had not formalized the alliance yet, but Mortimer’s pompous face was getting on his nerves. Everything seemed to be doing that this morning.
He refused to believe it was because he had been called into this meeting as soon as he woke up and hadn’t had a chance to ask Leah how she fared.
He had suffered a restless night of bad dreams. Memories of his father had plagued him through the early hours, and he had not been able to shake a feeling of unease from his mind.
He had woken up to find Kenneth knocking on his door, telling him that the council was requesting his presence.
They were most eager to understand what had occurred at the dance and to question their Laird’s reasoning as to why he had brought home a strange Englishwoman who he appeared to have no intention to wed.
Despite a love for his people and a desire to do right by them, Magnus would have happily dispensed with almost every member of the council if he could.
Just at that moment, the object of his thoughts pushed open the doors of the room with such force that Kenneth drew his sword on instinct.
Leah’s confused expression morphed into an apology as she stared at them all in shock, the doors slamming violently against the walls behind her.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, backing out of the room. “I thought the Laird was alone.”
“It is nay matter, M’Lady,” Lord Mortimer said warmly as he shuffled the papers in front of him, giving her a friendly smile. “Ye are most welcome.”
Magnus frowned.
There were two possible reasons for Mortimer’s affability toward Leah. Either he was trying to ingratiate himself with the person he viewed as the future Lady MacWatt, or he was personally interested in her.
Neither possibility helped to quell Magnus’s rage, and he grunted.
“I wish to speak to you when this meeting is over,” Leah said, her eyes flicking to his as she crossed her arms over her chest.
She dares to command me? She, who is a guest in this castle?
He looked around the table of men. They were all watching him, waiting to see how he would react to her imperious tone. He knew he could either bark an order at her, and cause even more unrest between them, or cater to her whims and be made to look weak.
Why did I agree to take her in? She is nothing but trouble.
Thankfully, however, she appeared to realize that she had no place in this room, and without another word, she retreated the way she had come, closing the doors quietly behind her.
Magnus looked down at the table so that he did not have to meet the eyes of his councilmen and scratched the three-day-old stubble on his jaw. Eventually, he shook his head as though to dismiss her very existence.
“Pay her nay mind, gentlemen,” he stated firmly. “She is here as a guest as a favor to Laird MacIrvin, and it will strengthen our alliance to have her present. She doesnae ken the ways of this castle and will be gone in a matter of days.”
The men before him exchanged several meaningful looks, each making him more uneasy than the last.
Dinnae go after her, ye weak simpleton. Stay here and be the Laird they expect ye to be.
Despite knowing that that course of action was the right one, his mind appeared to have made his choice for him. He had no more agency now than when she begged for his help in the carriage.
With a frustrated growl, he put out a hand to indicate to Kenneth that he should remain behind and, against all his better judgment, went to find the lass.
He did not have to look for long. As soon as he left the council chambers, he found her waiting in the corridor, pretending to be examining a piece of stained glass in the tiny window above her.
He grabbed her by the arm and forcibly backed her up against the wall, noting her shocked gasp even as her pupils dilated with desire.
“Ye are tellin’ me what to do in front of me own council now? Ye dinnae disrespect me in me own castle!”
Her breaths were coming fast, as were his, and her eyes flicked down to his lips.
“What is it that is so important that ye must interrupt me duties as Laird?” he asked, forcing himself to release her arm, even though the feel of her warm skin was as addictive as that kiss had been.
He should, by rights, take a step back from her, but his body wouldn’t move.
“Three things,” she said, looking up at him defiantly. “Have you ever fought a wolf?”
Magnus hesitated, staring down at her, utterly perplexed. “What? Is this Betty gettin’ into yer head? There are nay wolves in Scotland.”
“Alright, a bear then,” she said. “I’ll note that down.”
“What the hell are ye talkin’ about?”
“Our deal!” she exclaimed, the same light flashing in her eyes. “I am going to write a book about you. I’ll make you out to be the most powerful laird in the Highlands, and everyone will know your name once I’m through with you.”
She looked very pleased with herself.
“I’ll need more details of your past,” she continued, “some events to show your strength, perhaps.”
As she met his gaze, her cheeks grew pink around the edges. She looked momentarily irritated, bringing her hands up to her face as though surprised to find herself blushing.
She cleared her throat a couple of times and swallowed.
“And I’ll need your word that you won’t collect any other sort of debt from me. This will be my payment for you agreeing to let me remain here.”
“I have already apologized for the kiss—”
“Just to make sure,” she said testily.
“Alright,” he agreed, unsure how he felt about the condition but, given their situation, unwilling to disagree. “What was the second thing?”
“My clothes,” she said, smoothing a hand down her dress.
As she did so, he noticed that it was the same pale pink gown she had worn upon her arrival. It still looked damp from the rain and wrinkled all over. She looked a little disheveled.
“Did me servants nae provide ye with more clothes to wear? I shall speak with them—”
“No,” she replied, with that same prim expression on her face.
“I don’t wish to wear your wife’s old clothes.
It doesn’t feel respectful to her, and I’d rather have them fit me properly.
If you give me some money, I can buy some that are more suitable for the weather in Scotland.
Or I might just freeze to death in my bed. ”
He shook his head. Women were an odd breed. “Ye dinnae need to pay me back. It’ll be a gift,” he said, enjoying the idea that he could pay for something that would make her more comfortable.
He could imagine her in a gown of deep burgundy or mauve. It would bring out the color of her hair.
He cleared his throat. “What was the third thing?”
“As I said, I need to write to Daphne. I’d like permission to enter your study to get the things I will need.”
“That willnae be necessary,” came an unfamiliar male voice from the end of the corridor.
Magnus turned, a hand on his sword, shocked to see three figures standing before them.
One he recognized as the Englishman from MacIrvin Castle, finally giving him a full view of the man Leah was fleeing from. He was standing beside an apologetic-looking Laird MacIrvin, and the tall woman Magnus had seen speaking to Leah at the ceilidh.
He heard Leah gasp beside him, all the color draining from her face as she laid eyes on the older man.
Magnus felt his protective instincts drive him forward, and he stepped around Leah to block her from view.
The Englishman scoffed as he watched him do it, puffing out his chest in indignation as he advanced toward them.
“I am the Earl of Burton, and that is my daughter. She will be leaving with me immediately!”