Chapter 4
Kenneth stood in the shadows of the great hall, his eyes fixed on the entrance.
The heavy oak doors creaked open, and in strutted Eli, the first of the potential suitors for Sophie.
The laird's jaw clenched, a muscle ticking beneath his skin as he fought the urge to intervene immediately.
He had promised Colette he would find Sophie a suitable match, and he intended to keep his word.
But as Eli's gaze roved over Sophie's form with undisguised interest, Kenneth felt a surge of possessiveness that took him by surprise.
He watched Sophie's reaction, and his resolve began to waver.
The lass, usually so vibrant and talkative, had withdrawn into herself, her eyes downcast and her posture rigid.
It was as though all the light had been snuffed out of her.
"Me lady," Eli drawled, bowing with exaggerated flourish. "I've heard tales of yer beauty, but they pale in comparison to the vision before me."
Sophie remained silent, her fingers twisting nervously in her skirts. Kenneth's brow furrowed. Where was the spirited hellion who had defied him at every turn? The lass who couldn't seem to stop talking even if her life depended on it?
Eli, undeterred by Sophie's lack of response, moved closer. "Come now, lass. Surely ye have a sweet voice to match that bonnie face?"
Kenneth's hands curled into fists at his sides. He had left them alone, with only a chaperone present, to give them privacy. But every instinct screamed at him to burst through the doors and put himself between Sophie and this presumptuous fool.
"Perhaps a demonstration of me... affections would loosen yer tongue," Eli murmured, reaching for Sophie's hand.
A small yelp echoed through the room, and Kenneth was moving before he even registered the sound. He burst through the doors, his eyes wild as he took in the scene before him.
Sophie had stumbled backwards, her eyes wide with fear as she tried to avoid Eli's touch. The chaperone looked on helplessly, clearly at a loss for how to handle the situation.
In two long strides, Kenneth was at Sophie's side. He placed a steadying hand on the small of her back, a low growl rumbling in his chest as he glared at Eli.
"I believe the lady has made her feelin's quite clear," Kenneth said, his voice dangerously calm. "Ye'll be leaving now."
Eli paled, taking a step back. "Me lord, I meant nay offense. I was merely trying to—"
"Ye were merely trying to take liberties with a lady who clearly wants nothin' to do with ye," Kenneth interrupted. "Now, I'll nae say it again. Leave."
Kenneth's hand shot out, grasping Eli's shirt in a white-knuckled fist. With a swift, forceful movement, he yanked the man close, their faces mere inches apart. Eli's eyes widened in fear as Kenneth leaned in, his voice a low, menacing whisper that sent chills down Eli's spine.
"If ye ever dare to touch her or even breathe near her again," Kenneth growled, his words barely audible but dripping with lethal intent, "I'll end yer family line. Do I make meself clear?"
Eli nodded frantically, his face pale with terror. Without another word, Kenneth shoved him roughly towards the door, which slammed shut with a resounding thud, leaving a trembling Eli on one side and a seething Kenneth on the other.
Kenneth turned to Sophie, his touch gentling as he guided her towards the door. "Go with Mary to yer chambers, lass. Ye've had enough excitement for one day."
As Sophie left, Kenneth sagged against the wall, running a hand through his hair. What in God's name had come over him? He had no right to feel so... possessive of the lass.
Kenneth's jaw clenched as the image of Sophie's frightened eyes and trembling form seared itself into his mind. A fierce protectiveness surged through him, accompanied by a thought that surprised him with its intensity.
I'll be damned if I ever let anyone make her feel that way again.
The vehemence of his own thoughts startled him, but he couldn't deny the truth of them. From this moment on, Sophie's safety and well-being would be his utmost priority.
But the memory of her frightened eyes and trembling form haunted him.
She will never feel that way again.
The afternoon sun streamed through the high windows of the great hall as Kenneth stood rigidly by the fireplace, his eyes fixed on Sophie and her latest suitor. The man, a portly laird from a neighboring clan, sat too close to Sophie for Kenneth's comfort.
"And what do ye think of falconry, me lady?" the man asked, leaning in closer to Sophie.
Kenneth's hand tightened on his goblet, his knuckles turning white. He watched as Sophie shifted subtly away, her discomfort evident in the tight set of her shoulders.
"I... I'm afraid I daenae ken much about it, me laird," Sophie replied politely.
The man's face lit up. "Oh, but ye must allow me to teach ye! There's nothin' quite like the thrill of the hunt, feeling the bird take flight from yer arm..."
As he spoke, he reached out, his fingers brushing Sophie's arm. Kenneth felt a growl building in his chest, the urge to intervene nearly overwhelming.
"Me lady," he called out, his voice cutting through the tension in the room. "I believe ye promised to show our guest the tapestries in the east wing."
Sophie's relief was palpable as she stood. "Of course, me laird. If ye'll follow me, me laird?"
The suitor rose, clearly disappointed at the interruption.
As they made their way towards the door, he attempted to place his hand on the small of Sophie's back.
Without thinking, Kenneth strode forward, "accidentally" bumping into a side table.
The vase atop it teetered precariously before crashing to the floor, shattering into a thousand pieces.
"Blast," Kenneth said, his voice devoid of any real concern. "How clumsy of me. I'm afraid we'll have to postpone the tour while this is cleaned up. Perhaps another time?"
The man's face fell, but he could hardly argue with the laird. With a stiff bow, he took his leave, casting one last longing glance at Sophie.
As the door closed behind him, Kenneth met Sophie's eyes.
For a moment, he thought he saw a flicker of understanding, perhaps even gratitude, in her gaze.
But then she looked away, and the moment was gone.
The afternoon brought another bachelor, and Kenneth found himself unable to leave Sophie alone with the man.
He prowled the edges of the room like a caged beast, his eyes never straying far from Sophie's form.
Every time the bachelor moved too close, Kenneth felt a growl building in his chest. When the man tried to hug Sophie goodbye, Kenneth lifted his gaze to meet the other man's in a vicious stare. The bachelor froze in place, staring back at him in a mix of confusion and fear.
"Sir?" Sophie asked, bewilderment edging her voice.
The bachelor lowered his arms, clearing his throat in a vain attempt to make the situation less awkward, "I'll be on me way."
Sophie and Kenneth watched him stumble from the room, Kenneth swallowing his satisfaction at scaring the man off.
As the days passed, three more bachelors came and went, each dismissed swiftly at Kenneth's command. Sophie maintained her quiet demeanor with all of them, a far cry from the spirited lass she usually is.
Kenneth couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt.
He had promised to find Sophie a husband, to give her the freedom she so desperately craved.
But each time a suitor arrived, he found himself inventing reasons why they weren't good enough.
Too short, too tall, too brash, too meek – none of them measured up to the impossible standard he had set in his mind.
And with each passing day, Kenneth found it harder and harder to imagine Sophie with anyone else. The thought of another man touching her, kissing her, making her laugh – it was enough to drive him mad with jealousy.
But he couldn't have her. He had made a vow to Colette, and he was a man of his word…
Kenneth stalked through the corridors of his keep, his footsteps echoing off the stone walls. For days now, he had been avoiding Sophie, taking his meals in his study and burying himself in work.
As he rounded a corner, he caught a glimpse of golden hair and quickly ducked into an alcove.
His heart pounded as Sophie walked past, her brow furrowed in thought.
She looked pale and tired, and Kenneth felt a pang of guilt.
He knew he was the cause of her distress, but he couldn't bring himself to face her.
Not when he was still so conflicted about his feelings.
Once Sophie had passed, Kenneth emerged from his hiding spot, cursing under his breath.
He was the Laird of Clan MacAdams, for God's sake.
He shouldn't be skulking about his own castle like a thief in the night.
But the thought of confronting Sophie, of seeing the hurt and confusion in her eyes, was more than he could bear.
As he made his way to the council chambers, Kenneth steeled himself for the meeting ahead. He knew his advisors were growing impatient with his inability to find Sophie a suitable husband. And with the threat of Laird Allen looming over them, they couldn't afford any distractions.
Kenneth pushed open the heavy oak doors, his face a mask of calm authority as he strode into the room. The council members rose to their feet, bowing their heads in respect.
"Be seated," Kenneth commanded, taking his place at the head of the table. "What news?"
Old Fergus, his most trusted advisor, cleared his throat. "Me laird, we must discuss the matter of Lady Sophie's marriage. It's been a week since ye brought her here, and still nay husband has been chosen."
Kenneth's jaw clenched, but he kept his voice level. "I'm well aware of the situation, Fergus. But I'll nae rush into a decision that will affect the rest of the lass's life."