Chapter 19 #2
The words landed exactly where the old man intended them to land. Finn felt his jaw tighten, but he said nothing.
"The messenger spoke true," Douglas said grimly. "Word of the betrothal has traveled faster than any of us hoped to contain. Every rival within three days' ride kens ye have taken a bride."
"Then stop lettin' it sit as talk," Ewan said.
"Formalize the marriage. Publicly. Before the month turns.
A long betrothal invites doubt, and doubt is what draws wolves.
A wedding, a bedded wife, an heir on the way, that closes the door on this.
Every day ye wait is a day enemies count as weakness. "
Finn raised a hand, and the room fell silent. "I willnae let any clan come near our keep," he said, voice flat with command. "We rectify the border defenses now. Leave Claire out of this."
"Nay, but yer council buries yer clan if ye dinnae act," Ewan pressed. "Ye brought an English lass into this hall and let every man in the Highlands believe she carries yer name already. Fine. Then make it true, and quickly, before doubt does the work rival clans havenae managed yet."
Something dark and immediate rose in Finn's chest, though not for the reason Ewan likely assumed. He kept his voice level through sheer force of will. "The lass has a name."
"Aye, and it isnae MacRae," Ewan said. "Nae yet. Whether it ever is depends on how much longer ye intend to court disaster instead of a wedding night."
A low murmur of agreement passed among two of the other men. Douglas's eyes flicked toward Finn in warning, the way a man watches a loaded crossbow he is not certain will hold.
"She stitched that boy's wound with her own hands not an hour past," Finn said. "While the rest of ye argued over supper about how fast ye could w ed her to me."
"She played nursemaid for an evenin'," Ewan said, waving a dismissive hand.
"That doesnae make her Highland yet, MacRae, and it doesnae make delay any safer for her.
An English lass who plays at bein' one of us and warms a Highlander's bed without his ring on her finger is a target twice over, both for what she is and for what she isnae.
The men gatherin' on that pass will use her against ye either way, wed or nae. Better she's yer wife when they try."
The room went utterly silent.
Finn rose slowly from where he had been leaning against the table. He crossed the small space with unhurried, deliberate steps until he stood directly before Robert Grant, close enough that the older man's throat worked visibly around a swallow.
"If ye speak of me bride like she's a matter of timing again," Finn said, his voice dropping to a whisper far more dangerous than a shout, "I will forget every year of service ye gave me father, and every debt I owe ye for it.
I will remember only that ye stood in me hall and spoke of her as if she were a horse to be broken to market.
And I promise ye, Robert Grant, that will end in bloodshed. Yers."
Nobody in the room moved. Even Douglas, who had faced Finn across a blade more times than either of them cared to count, kept his silence.
Ewan's jaw worked once, twice, before he inclined his head a fraction. "Aye, me Laird. Understood."
"Good." Finn stepped back, though the fury did not fade so easily.
"Now. Nay man kens who's massing on that pass or why.
I want scouts riding within the hour, and I want the northern watch doubled before the moon is full up.
Nay man enters or leaves these walls without Douglas or myself kennin' of it first."
"Aye, me Laird," the men murmured, filing one by one toward the door, Robert Grant last of all, his expression carefully blank.
Douglas lingered after the others had gone, closing the door softly behind them. He studied Finn for a long moment in the low firelight.
"Ye ken they'll nae let this rest," Douglas said quietly. "The marriage talk. Nae with enemies on the move."
"I ken it better than any man in that room," Finn said, dragging a hand roughly through his damp hair.
He turned toward the narrow window, where rain still lashed the dark glass in relentless sheets.
Somewhere above him, in the chambers overlooking the courtyard, Claire was likely peeling off that ruined gown, unaware that half his council had just spent the better part of an hour deciding how soon she should be bedded and wed.
Claire would be the first thing they reached for if those walls were ever breached. Not the grain stores. Not the armory.
"And the other matter," Douglas added, lower still, glancing once at the barred door. "How long before Ewan or one of the others starts askin' why the betrothal hasnae moved any further than it has, if a wedding is what saves us all?"
"Then we'd best give them a reason to stop askin'," Finn said, though the words tasted like a lie the moment they left him. His reflection stared back at him from the black window, jaw set, eyes hollow with something that felt too much like fear for a man who had buried fear a decade ago.
"Whatever it takes," he said finally, "to make certain they never get the chance to touch her."