Chapter 30
CHAPTER THIRTY
The world tilted sideways.
Moyra’s fingers tightened on the bookshelf, her body still humming from Euan’s touch while her mind struggled to process those words. MacKenzie ships. Her father’s forces, close enough to see from shore.
Euan transformed in a heartbeat—the passionate man who’d just made her come undone vanished, replaced by the warrior laird his clan needed. He stepped away, his jaw hardening to granite.
“How many ships?”
“One spotted so far.” Niall’s gaze flicked between them, taking in their disheveled state with uncomfortable perception. “But if Keith’s sending scouts by sea, there’ll be more. He’s testing our coastal defenses.”
“Or planning another raid.” Euan’s scarred hand clenched. “After the villages, after everything—the bastard’s relentless.”
“Aye. And we’re stretched thin.” Niall moved closer, lowering his voice though Moyra could still hear. “The refugees, the patrols, multiple fronts—we cannae hold against a sustained assault. Nae without support.”
“The Covenant braithers are here,” Euan said, doubt coloring his tone.
“That’s nae enough and ye ken it.” Niall’s bluntness cut through the room like a blade. “Three men against Keith’s full forces? We need their clans behind us. Official support.”
“Which they’ve offered—”
“In theory.” Niall’s jaw tightened. “But committing full military strength tae a conflict over a woman? That requires justification. Something more than Euan MacLeod’s personal entanglements.”
The words settled over Moyra’s shoulders, heavy as stone. Personal entanglements. A complication that was tying Euan’s hands while her father closed in.
“What about the Crown?” Euan asked.
“Same problem. The king’s nae going tae intervene in what looks like a clan dispute over a hostage. Nae without a compelling reason.”
“So we’re on our own.”
“Unless...” Niall trailed off, his gaze sliding to Moyra before snapping back to Euan.
“Unless what?” The question burst from her.
“Moyra—” Euan started.
“Nay. Dinnae dismiss me like some child.” She pushed away from the bookshelf. “If this concerns me, then I deserve tae ken what idea ye’re dancing around.”
Niall looked at Euan, silently asking permission. At the laird’s tight nod, he turned to face her.
“Unless the situation changes. Unless what Keith’s daeing stops being a clan dispute and becomes something else. Something the crown and the Covenant cannae ignore.”
“I still dinnae understand—”
“Marriage.” Euan’s voice cut through her confusion. “He means marriage, Moyra. Between us.”
The word landed like a stone in still water. Marriage. The proposal she’d refused because it felt like another cage.
Except now it wasn’t just about her freedom. It was about villages burning and children crying and good people dying.
“If ye married,” Niall continued, “Keith’s attacks would nay longer be about retrieving his daughter. They’d be acts of war against the MacLeods—and by extension, any allied clan. The Covenant braithers could justify full military support. The Crown would have grounds tae intervene.”
“It would legitimize everything,” Euan added quietly. “Give us the backing we need tae stop Keith afore he destroys more lives.”
Marriage to Euan would mean safety—for her, for his clan, for innocents caught between her father’s ambitions and their resistance.
It would also mean binding herself to a man who made her forget her own name when he touched her.
Whose grey eyes watched her now with an intensity that made her skin burn.
“Leave it, Niall.” Euan’s jaw clenched. “This isnae the time.”
“When is the time? When Keith’s forces are battering down our gates? When more villages burn?”
“Once again, I’ll nae force her intae anything she daesnae want. I’ll nae trap her the same way her faither did.”
“Even if refusing means watching yer people die?”
Moyra watched emotions war across Euan’s scarred face—duty battling desire, responsibility fighting fierce protectiveness.
She was tired of men making decisions for her.
Time to start making her own moves.
“Then we should get married.”
Both men’s heads snapped toward her. Euan’s eyes widened, his mouth opening then closing.
“Moyra—” He found his voice first. “Ye dinnae have tae—”
“Dinnae tell me what I have tae dae.” She crossed the distance between them, chin lifting. “Ye just finished saying I get tae make me own choices. Well, this is me choosing.”
“Ye’re choosing marriage tae solve a political crisis.” His eyes searched her face. “That’s nae what I want fer ye.”
“What dae ye want fer me, then?” The challenge came out sharp. “Tae watch more people die while I sit here being useless? Tae let me faither destroy everything because I’m too proud?”
“It’s nae about pride—”
“Then what is it about?” She stepped closer. “Unless ye dinnae want tae marry me?”
“That’s nae even a question worth answering.”
“Then answer it anyway.”
“Christ, Moyra.” His scarred hand cupped her face. “I want ye. But wanting ye and forcing ye intae marriage because of political necessity—those are different things.”
“Who says ye’re forcing me?” She covered his hand with hers. “Maybe I’ve come tae care about yer clan enough that I’ll dae whatever it takes tae keep them safe.”
“Even marry a man ye barely ken?”
“I ken ye well enough.” The truth settled over her. “I ken ye’re stubborn and brooding and entirely too noble. I ken ye make children smile and refugees feel safe.”
Niall cleared his throat. “I’m going tae check on those ships. And give ye two some privacy.”
He fled.
Alone with Euan, Moyra felt the weight of her offer settle over her shoulders.
“Are ye certain?” Euan’s voice had gone rough. “Once we dae this, there’s nay going back.”
“I’m certain.” And she was. “I’m tired of running from things that scare me. Tired of letting fear make me choices.” She rose on her toes, bringing their mouths close. “So aye, Euan MacLeod. I’ll marry ye. I’ll stand beside ye against me faither. And I’ll dae it because I choose tae.”
His mouth claimed hers in a kiss that tasted of promise and possession. When he pulled back, his eyes blazed.
“Then we’d better make it official,” he said roughly. “Before I change me mind about being noble and take ye against that bookshelf again.”
Despite everything, Moyra felt her mouth curve. “Who says I’d object?”
His answering growl made her toes curl. But he stepped back, putting proper distance between them.
“After we deal with yer faither. After we make ye me wife in truth,” he promised. His scarred hand found hers. “Then I’ll take me time showing ye exactly what marriage tae me entails.”
The promise in his voice made her shiver. But outside, danger approached. Inside, refugees huddled in halls that should have been safe.
The time fer passion was later. Now was the time for survival.
“Then let’s go tell yer Council,” Moyra said, squeezing his hand. “Before I lose me nerve entirely.”