Isla’s heart leapt up to her throat as she considered his words. She could barely think as her world began to spin out of control, leaving her dizzy and confused.
She glanced at Callum, who still hadn’t lowered his pistol.
Too much is happenin’ too fast… but I must put an end to this, no matter the sacrifice.
“What will it be, Lady Isla?” The Duke said once more.
He offered a sound solution. If he managed to convince thetonthat he wanted to meet her all along… If they truly believedthat it was all a misunderstanding, and through this marriage, Eilidh’s reputation was cleared… Her little sister would have her pick of suitors, then. Especially if Isla herself married a Duke.
Still, it all seemed too easy. Too good to be true.
Aye, I wish me maither and faither were here… I will figure the rest out later. This is the best chance we have got to get past this.
“If I accept,” Isla said, her voice shaking slightly as her voice cut off her own thoughts. “Can ye ensure ye will restore our family’s name?”
“I vow it.”
“That this gossip will be put to rest, and there will be nay bloodshed?”
“I promise you, Lady Isla. I cannot be tied to a sullied name. As my wife, no one will dare question you or disgrace you and anyone in your family,” the Duke spoke slowly, steadily, his eyes fixed on her.
Isla found herself caught in the depths of his gaze—blue as a winter sky, unwavering, impossible to look away from. Her chest tightened, a flutter of something unbidden stirring as though his words had reached far beyond mere protection.
For a heartbeat, she wondered if he saw the truth of her fear.
And perhaps, a flicker of hope.
Isla blinked, straightening her back, reminding herself that the only hope she should feel was for her sister’s future. That was her only duty. No more.
“Then…Yes. I will marry ye, Yer Grace,” she finally said with a deep curtsy, her brother’s coat pooling at her feet.
As she rose back up, she bit her lip to stop herself from laughing. She never thought she’d receive such a proposal, let alone while she wasdressed like a man!
She glanced at the Duke to see if he saw the same ridiculousness in this situation, but she found no humor in his eyes.
When she moved her gaze towards Callum, she saw that his pistol remained steady. He looked back at her.
“Callum…” she pleaded, seeing the furrowing of his brow, the pursing of his lips.
“Isla, ye daenae have to do this,” Callum protested. “There must be another way. I am the head of our family, and I shall find it. I’ll send Eilidh back to Scotland?—”
“You will do nae such thing, brother. I will do this.” She cut him off, refusing to blink or give him a chance to shut her out. “For Eilidh. Now, please, put the pistol down.”
Callum’s shoulders sagged, but his grip on the pistol did not loosen. His jaw worked, the muscle ticking as he drew a ragged breath through his teeth.
For a moment, Isla feared he might yet pull the trigger. That his anger, his pride, would drown out all reason. The silence stretched, broken only by the uneven sound of his breathing and the faint click of his thumb brushing the hammer.
“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath.
Whether to himself or to the Duke, Isla could not tell.
His arm trembled, then dropped a fraction, the weapon wavering in his hand. Finally, with a sharp exhale that sounded almost like defeat, he lowered it fully.
The Duke followed suit, though his movements were far more deliberate and measured. Still, Isla noticed how his eyes never left her. Not for a moment.
“We will be married within the week,” the Duke declared, his voice cool and all trace of emotion gone as he tucked the pistol away.
“The week,” Isla repeated, exhaling, trying her best to process how quickly everything had shifted.
