Chapter 31
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
The letter arrived with the morning post, sealed with MacBain green wax that caught the light as Tavish broke it open.
Fionnlagh's script covered the parchment in neat lines, confirming what Tavish had requested weeks ago.
Reinforcements. Twenty seasoned warriors, supplies enough for a siege, and his brother's blessing to do whatever was necessary.
He read the words twice, letting them sink in. The cavalry was coming. Within three days, MacEwan Castle would have enough military strength to make Keir think twice about any further schemes.
Malcolm found him in the corridor outside his chambers, the letter still gripped in his hand.
"Council meeting in an hour, MacBain. They wish tae discuss the border situation." The steward's tone was carefully neutral, but his eyes held something sharper. Suspicion, maybe. Or assessment.
"I'll be there." Tavish folded the letter, tucking it inside his doublet. "I've news that might interest ye all."
Malcolm's eyebrows rose fractionally. "Oh?"
"Me clan is sending reinforcements. They'll arrive by week's end."
The steward's expression shifted through several emotions too quickly to name. "I see. That's… unexpected."
"Is it?" Tavish kept his voice level. "I told Maighread I was staying. Did ye think I'd do so without ensuring she had proper protection?"
"Nay, I suppose nae." Malcolm's gaze flicked to the letter hidden against Tavish's chest. "Though some on the Council may have questions about MacBain warriors occupying MacEwan lands."
"Then they can ask them at the meeting."
The council chamber felt smaller than usual when Tavish entered an hour later. Eight men sat around the scarred oak table, their faces ranging from curious to openly hostile. Maighread occupied her father's seat at the head, her spine straight and her expression giving nothing away.
Their eyes met across the room. Something passed between them, a silent communication that made his chest tighten. She was nervous. He could see it in the slight tension around her mouth, the way her fingers rested too carefully on the armrest.
He took his position standing behind her chair, close enough that anyone watching would understand his allegiance. His hand found her shoulder briefly, a touch that said I'm here. She relaxed fractionally beneath his palm.
"Gentlemen," Maighread began, her voice carrying across the chamber. "Thank ye fer gathering on short notice. We have developments tae discuss."
Dougal leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. "What developments would those be, m'lady?"
Tavish stepped forward before she could respond. "MacBain reinforcements are on the way. Fifty warriors, fully equipped, arriving within three days."
Silence crashed over the room like a wave.
Then Ewan spoke, his voice tight. "That's a generous gesture, MacBain. Though one wonders what yer clan expects in return fer such… investment."
"They expect naething." Tavish met the older man's gaze without flinching. "Except that Maighread remains safe and MacEwan lands remain secure."
"How noble." Dougal's tone dripped skepticism. "And these warriors will answer tae who, exactly? Ye? Yer braither? Or will they take orders from our lady here?"
"They'll answer tae me. I'll answer tae Maighread." Tavish's voice hardened. "As it should be, given she's the rightful heir. When we marry, I become laird of this clan, but it will be in service tae MacEwan interests and under Angus MacEwan's blessing."
"Future laird?" Finlay's eyebrows shot up. "That's presuming quite a bit, lad. The succession isnae settled yet."
"It is settled." Tavish moved around the table, his boots echoing on stone.
"Angus MacEwan has settled the succession through our betrothal.
When we marry, I become laird—bound by oath tae protect MacEwan interests and honor the clan's legacy.
He blessed our union specifically tae ensure MacEwan remains strong and independent.
Anyone questioning that is questioning his authority. "
"We're nae questioning the laird's authority," Malcolm said carefully. "We're questioning whether bringing foreign warriors intae our lands serves those interests ye claim tae protect."
"Foreign?" Tavish's laugh came harsh. " We've traded taegether fer generations. Me faither and the laird were friends fer decades. MacBain and MacEwan have been allies longer than most of ye have been alive."
"Allies, aye. But this…" Ewan gestured vaguely. "This feels more akin tae occupation than alliance."
Heat flooded Tavish's veins, sharp and sudden. "Occupation? I'm protecting me betrothed from a man who's tried twice now tae either steal or kill her. If that feels uncomfortable tae ye, perhaps ye should examine why ye're more concerned about MacBain warriors than Sinclair mercenaries."
"Watch yer tone, lad," Dougal warned.
"Nay. I willnae." Tavish planted his palms on the table, leaning forward. "I'm tired of this Council treating Maighread's safety as a political inconvenience. I'm tired of ye questioning every move she makes, every decision she takes, every alliance she forms."
"We have a responsibility tae this clan," Finlay said stiffly. "That includes scrutinizing—"
"It includes supporting yer lady!" Tavish's voice rose, bouncing off stone walls.
"She's shown her leadership over and over again in the past month.
She secured the border villages when ye were content tae let them starve.
She faced down Keir Sinclair when ye would have handed her over like chattel.
She's earned yer respect, yer loyalty, and yer gods-damned obedience. "
Shock rippled through the room. No one spoke.
Tavish straightened, his gaze sweeping across every face.
"So here's what's going tae happen. MacBain warriors will arrive.
They'll be quartered, fed, and given whatever support they require.
They'll patrol the borders, reinforce the gates, and ensure Keir cannae launch another attack without facing real consequences. "
"And if we refuse tae accept them?" Dougal asked quietly.
"Then ye're fools." Tavish's tone went flat, cold. "And I'll have nay choice but tae wonder whose interests ye truly serve. Because from where I stand, anyone opposing protection fer this clan looks suspiciously similar tae someone working against it."
The accusation hung in the air, ugly and undeniable.
Malcolm cleared his throat. "That's a serious charge, MacBain."
"It's a serious situation." Tavish turned toward Maighread, whose expression had shifted from nervous to something fiercer. Prouder. "But I'm done arguing about it. The warriors are coming. They'll serve this clan's needs. And anyone who has a problem with that can take it up with me directly."
He moved back to stand behind her chair, his hand finding her shoulder again. This time she reached up, her fingers covering his briefly. The touch said thank ye without words.
"The Council will discuss this privately," Malcolm said after a long pause. "And reach a decision."
"Ye'll reach the right decision," Tavish countered. "Or ye'll answer tae Laird MacEwan when he learns his Council is blocking the protection his daughter desperately needs."
The threat landed exactly as intended. Angus MacEwan, even weakened by illness, still commanded absolute authority. No council member wanted to face his wrath.
"We'll reconvene tomorrow," Maighread said, her voice steady. "Once ye've had time tae consider all aspects. This meeting is adjourned."
The men filed out slowly, casting glances between Tavish and Maighread that ranged from assessing to outright suspicious. When the last one disappeared through the door, silence settled over the chamber.
Maighread stood, moving toward the window. Her shoulders remained rigid, tension radiating from every line of her body.
"That was…" She paused, searching for words. "Intense."
"They needed tae hear it." Tavish crossed to her side. "I'm tired of them treating ye with less respect than ye deserve."
"Ye defended me." Something in her voice made his chest ache. Wonder, maybe. Or disbelief that someone would stand so publicly on her behalf.
"Always." He meant it with every fiber of his being. "I'll defend ye against council members, Sinclair bastards, or anyone else who tries tae diminish what ye are."
She turned then, her grey eyes searching his face. "What I am?"
"Strong. Capable. Worthy of leading this clan." He stepped closer, close enough to see the pulse beating at her throat. "They're blind if they cannae see it."
"Tavish..."
"Come." He caught her hand, threading his fingers through hers. "Let's walk. Before I say something else that gets me thrown out of the castle."
They moved through the corridors in silence, their joined hands the only point of contact.
Tavish led them toward the eastern wing, where foot traffic thinned and privacy became possible.
A narrow passage opened onto a small courtyard he'd discovered days before, tucked away from the main thoroughfares.
The space was tiny, enclosed by high walls on three sides. But it caught afternoon sunlight beautifully, warming the stones and creating a pocket of peace in the castle's chaos.
Maighread released his hand, moving toward the far wall. She trailed her fingers along the weathered stone, her expression distant.
"What daes it mean now?" she asked quietly. "With yer men arriving?"
"It means Keir will be defeated." Tavish leaned against the opposite wall, giving her space. "It means ye'll be protected properly. It means this constant threat hanging over yer head finally ends."
She nodded slowly, but something in her posture shifted. Closed off.
"And after?" The question came barely above a whisper. "Once the threat is gone?"
Understanding crashed through him, sharp and sudden. She still thought he'd leave. Thought his presence there was temporary, contingent on danger and necessity rather than choice.
"Maighread." He pushed off the wall, crossing to her in three strides. "Look at me."
She kept her gaze fixed on the stones, her jaw tight.
"Lass, look at me." He caught her chin, tilting her face up until their eyes met. "What are ye thinking?"
"Naething. I'm just… wondering about logistics." The lie was transparent, brittle.
"Try again." His thumb stroked along her jawline. "Tell me what's really going through that brilliant mind of yers."
Her throat worked. "Once Keir is dealt with, once the clan is secure, ye'll have fulfilled whatever obligation ye felt toward me faither. Ye'll be free tae return tae MacBain lands. Tae yer braither, yer home, yer life."
"Is that what ye think?" Disbelief colored his voice. "That I'm here out of obligation? After everything, after the other night?"
"Arenae ye?" She tried to pull away, but he held firm. "Ye said yerself ye owed me faither a debt when ye agreed tae this madness in the first place."
"Aye, I did. But that's not why I'm staying." He moved closer, crowding her against the wall. Not threateningly. Just… present. Undeniable. "That debt was paid the moment I kept ye safe from Keir's first attack. Everything since then has been pure choice."
"Choice tae protect an ally," she countered, though her voice wavered. "Choice tae honor a betrothal that serves both our interests."
"Nay." The word came flat, absolute. "Choice tae stay beside the woman I cannae imagine leaving. Choice tae build something real instead of returning tae a life that feels empty now that I've kenned what this could be."
Her breath hitched. "Tavish..."
"Me fate was sealed the moment I said I would marry ye.
And again when I claimed ye as mine." He cradled her face between his palms, making certain she couldn't look away.
"If that was a lie, then I refuse tae return tae any truth that leaves me without ye.
Dae ye understand? There is nay future fer me that daesnae include ye in it. "
Moisture gathered in her eyes, making the grey shine silver.
"I mean that. I've never meant anything more." He leaned in, his forehead resting against hers. "I'm nae leaving, Maighread. Nae when Keir is defeated. Nae when the clan is secure. Nae ever, unless ye tell me tae go."
"Ye ken I want ye tae stay."
"Then I'll stay until ye grew tired of me.."
A laugh bubbled out of her, watery but genuine. "Ye're ridiculous."
"Aye." He brushed his lips across hers, feather-light. "So stop worrying about me leaving. Start worrying about how ye're going tae survive having me underfoot fer the next fifty years."
"Fifty years?"
"At least. I'm planning on being a very inconvenient husband."
"We're nae wed yet."
"Details." He kissed her properly, tasting salt and relief on her lips. "We will be soon enough. And then ye’re stuck with me fer good."
She melted into him, her arms winding around his neck. The kiss deepened, turned hungry. All the fear and uncertainty she'd been carrying transformed into something else entirely. Need. Want. The kind that made his blood run hot and his thoughts scatter.
"Tavish," she breathed against his mouth. "Someone could see…"
"Let them." He nipped at her lower lip. "Let the whole bloody castle see how thoroughly I claim ye as mine."
"Ye're impossible."
"Ye love it." He pulled back just enough to meet her eyes. "Tell me ye believe me. That I'm staying. That this is real."
She searched his face, looking for cracks in his conviction. Finding none, she nodded slowly. "I believe ye."
"Good." He pressed one more kiss to her forehead before releasing her. "Now come. We should return before the Council thinks I've spirited ye away tae some secret location."
"Have ye?"
"Nae yet. But give me time." He caught her hand again, lacing their fingers together. "I have plans fer spiriting ye away. I just need the right moment."