Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Domhnall had seen everything.
Not the leaving, for that had been handled too well, too quietly, but the absence. He had felt it the moment he had woken and the castle had not sat quite right around him. A guard was out of position. A corridor was too still. And Annabel not where she ought to have been.
When he knocked on Margaret’s door without a response, he knew that she was gone.
He did not shout. He did not summon the Council or raise alarm. He followed the thread the way he always did, by noticing what had changed and what had not. A servant stair was used when it should not have been and a door was eased open and shut with care.
It was all clever, but not clever enough, for he had caught up with them just as they were mounting their horses. He followed closely behind. When he reached the clearing, he did not step into it. He stopped at the edge of the trees and waited.
Then he saw her.
Margaret was standing alone at first, cloaked and alert, watching the road with a tension Domhnall recognized too well. She was waiting for someone.
The sound of a branch snapping carried softly through the clearing. Domhnall’s hand went instinctively to his blade. A hooded figure emerged from the trees. Domhnall’s vision narrowed.
The figure was slight and cloaked against recognition. Margaret turned at once and then she moved forward, straight into the other’s arms.
Domhnall went utterly still. His first thought was immediate and merciless.
A lover.
She was meeting him in the dark while his walls tightened and men died on the borders.
He watched her clutch the figure tightly. He watched her press her face into the stranger’s shoulder as though she had been starving for the contact. He saw the way her body softened, the way relief broke across her features even from this distance.
Something inside him went cold. He did not step forward, nor did he call out. He stayed where he was, half-shadowed, letting the truth, as he understood it, settle like iron in his gut.
Then, upon hearing him call out to her, she turned. She looked startled, but she didn’t look guilty. Her gaze cut through the clearing with startling precision, landing on him as though she had felt his presence before she saw it.
“What are ye daein’ here?” Margaret asked.
The question struck harder than accusation ever could. Domhnall stepped out from the trees. The clearing seemed to draw tight around them as he moved into the open. Before he could speak, another figure emerged from the shadows to his right.
Thomas halted at once and bowed low. “Me laird.”
The sound of it snapped something sharp and bright inside Domhnall.
He did not look away from Margaret. “Ye,” he said coldly, “will explain why one of me inner guards is escorting me betrothed beyond me walls in the dead of night.”
Thomas straightened, jaw set, but Margaret spoke first.
“Please, let Thomas go,” she asked of him.
Domhnall had no intention of discussing things with his guard. Margaret was the only one he wanted to speak to right now, and he preferred privacy to do it.
“Fine,” he snarled, addressing the guard. “Leave us.”
Thomas hesitated then bowed again, more deeply this time. “I’ll be close,” he murmured, and withdrew back into the trees without another word.
Domhnall watched him disappear, and as he did so, he could feel his fury sharpening rather than easing.
“So,” he said in a voice that was as low as it was dangerous, “this was planned.”
“Aye,” Margaret replied. “But nae as ye think.”
“Ye met a cloaked figure in secret,” he shot back. “Beyond me lands, with guards killed on the borders and MacGregor testing every weakness I have.” His hand clenched at his side. “Tell me how I am meant tae think otherwise.”
She took a breath, steadying herself. “That was me sister.”
The words landed and slid off him entirely.
“Dinnae insult me,” Domhnall snarled.
“I am nae,” she replied fiercely. “Eleonor is alive. She is safe, and she is married. That is who I came tae see.”
His expression did not soften. If anything, it darkened. All he could see was shadows around them, and any of those could become MacGregor.
“Ye expect me tae believe that ye risked everything, yerself, me men, me house, tae meet yer sister in secret?”
“Aye,” she replied. “Because I had tae ken she was safe. Because I promised her.”
“And Thomas?” Domhnall demanded. “Why is he part of this?”
“Because Annabel asked him,” Margaret said at once. “He did nae act fer reward or favor, only tae protect.”
She stepped closer, her voice urgent now. “Please dinnae punish him. I had him come because Annabel begged he come with me. She knew I would have come with or without him. I will nae have his loyalty turned intae a crime.”
Domhnall laughed once, but it was a harsh and humorless sound. “Ye put him in an impossible position.”
“I ken,” she answered. “And I will answer fer it.”
“Answer fer it?” His restraint finally cracked. “Ye vanished from me castle while men lie dead on me borders. Ye walked intae the dark tae meet a stranger I had every reason tae believe was yer lover—”
“She—”
“And ye expect me tae thank ye fer yer honesty?” Domhnall’s voice rose despite himself. “Ye endangered everyone, Margaret. But most of all, ye endangered yerself.”
Her eyes flashed. “I didnae dae this lightly.”
“Nay,” he said coldly. “Ye did it selfishly.”
The word struck her like a blow.
“Ye wanted reassurance,” he went on, fury bleeding through at last. “Ye wanted comfort. So, ye took it, at any cost. And ye would have me believe that makes it noble?”
She stared at him, as wounded pride and fear were warring in her gaze. “I wanted tae see me sister and I willnae apologize fer it,” she said and the words were barely out before something in him finally gave.
“Ye could have been hurt,” he went on, his voice roughening despite his effort to keep it contained. “Ye could have been captured. Ye could have been—”
He stopped. The last word would not come. It lodged in his throat, sharp and absolute.
Killed.
The silence that followed was worse than shouting.
Domhnall turned away from her, his jaw clenched so tightly it ached. He could feel it now, clear and undeniable beneath the fury and command and discipline he had built his life upon. This was not anger born of insult or defiance. It was fear for her.
The realization unsettled him more than anything she had done.
Behind him, he heard her step closer. When he turned back, Margaret was standing within arm’s reach.
Her composure was gone now, stripped away by the force of the moment.
He could see the tremor in her hands and the way she held herself as though she were bracing against cold. She met his eyes anyway.
“I am sorry,” she said quietly. “I am sorry I was nae honest with ye. I should have been.”
The words were simple.
“I needed tae see me sister,” she continued. “I needed tae ken she was safe. And I kent,” her breath hitched there, “I kent ye wouldnae allow it.”
Domhnall felt the blow of that land exactly where it was meant to.
“Ye took that choice from me,” he said hoarsely.
She nodded. “Aye. I did.”
She did not excuse it. She did not soften it.
“But I didnae dae it lightly,” she added. “Every step I took, I weighed the risk. I didnae go unguarded. I didnae go blindly. And I would never ever have put yer people in danger without cause.”
Her voice broke then, just enough to be heard. “I could nae live with nae kenning.”
Domhnall closed his eyes for a brief moment. When he opened them again, the anger was still there, but now, it was stripped of its sharpest edge, laid bare beside something far more difficult to face.
He exhaled slowly. “Ye should have trusted me.”
“I wanted tae,” she said. “But I was afraid ye would see only the danger and nae the necessity.”
He looked at her trembling hands, at the fierce resolve holding her upright despite it.
Damn her. And damn him.
He reached out then to steady her, as his hand closed around her wrist with firm, grounding pressure.
“Dinnae ever dae this again,” he ordered quietly. “Nae without telling me and without letting me stand between ye and whatever threatens.”
Her breath shuddered. “I will tell ye. I swear it.”
Domhnall watched her closely, feeling the weight of the moment settle between them.
Her voice had cut through the tension that had coiled in his chest, but the anger and the fear were still there.
When she spoke again, it was a plea for Thomas, that his house not to suffer for her actions.
But in her words, in her quiet desperation, he found an echo of something he had been trying to deny.
“I willnae punish him,” Domhnall promised her.
In fact, it was something he had already decided, even before she’d asked, but it felt better to say it aloud. He knew Thomas, and he knew the man would never act recklessly.
Margaret’s shoulders relaxed at once, relief flooding through her, though her brow remained furrowed. “Thank ye,” she murmured.
“Ye’ll never have tae ask tae see yer sister again,” Domhnall said, though the words came out rougher than intended, as though he were warning himself as much as her. “But dinnae make a habit of keeping me in the dark. This was too much.”
Margaret nodded quickly, her gaze dropping to the floor between them. Her hands were trembling slightly, but she steadied them. “I willnae,” she promised. “I swear I willnae. I just—”
“I ken,” he interrupted.
He stepped closer to her, his gaze flicking as if to remind her of the danger still looming around them. “I just need tae ken when ye’re going. I cannae protect ye if I dinnae ken where ye are.”
The weight of his words hung in the air. He wanted to say more, but the silence between them was filled with everything he couldn’t yet voice. It was the promise of something deeper, something both fragile and strong. He felt her trust in him, even after everything that had happened.
He was still angry. He was still furious with her for the risk she had taken and for the decision to sneak off without him. But there was something else beneath it all that frightened him far more than any blade or battle.
“Yer sister and her husband can come tae the castle,” he said, and the words surprised them both. “They are welcome there if they need refuge.”
The offer was sincere. It was rare for Domhnall to extend such a gesture, particularly in uncertain times, but for her, to ensure she knew the depth of his commitment, it felt natural.
“Thank ye,” she said softly, her voice touched by emotion she didn’t try to hide.
However, the weight of reality was not lost on her, as he expected it. She shook her head. “But fer now, I think it’s better if they stay hidden from me faither.”
Domhnall’s gaze softened slightly, but there was no hesitation in his reply. “Aye, I understand.”
The shadow of Drummond’s influence had been cast long before Falkland, and though he had been forced to respect her upcoming marriage, his pride and power remained his foremost concern. For her sister and her husband to step into the light, even there, in that moment of fragile peace, was not wise.
“It’s safer,” she added. “He would use them against me if he kent they were here. If it became kent that Eleonor had married without his consent… It could stir up more than just trouble.”
Domhnall met her gaze, understanding the unspoken fear between them.
“The choice is yers,” he said, though his voice was tinged with the weight of what it meant. “We will protect them as best we can. But if they must remain hidden, so be it.”
Margaret nodded, grateful for his understanding. “Thank ye,” she said again. “I dinnae wish tae cause more trouble fer ye or yer house. I only want me sister safe.”
“And I will keep her safe,” Domhnall replied. “Just as I will keep ye safe.”
The space between them hummed with the words unspoken, a quiet promise shared without the need for further explanation.
Margaret stayed close, for a moment longer than she had planned, before she gathered her resolve and nodded toward the path ahead. “I think it’s time we head back.”
Domhnall stepped aside, his eyes lingering on her a moment longer than necessary. “Aye, but remember this, Margaret: whatever comes, we face it thegither. Ye are nae alone in this.”
“I ken,” she said with a small smile. “And I will stand by ye, as ye’ve stood by me.”