“Ye’ve had enough for one day,” he murmured, his voice low and certain. “Rest now.”
Arianna looked at him as though she might argue, but the exhaustion in her eyes betrayed her. “Aye… perhaps I will,” she admitted softly.
He laid her gently upon the bed and drew the covers over her, his hand lingering for a moment against her cheek. She shifted slightly, her fingers brushing his wrist as though seeking reassurance.
“Will ye stay?” she asked quietly.
“I’m here,” Ian said.
That was all she needed. Within moments, Ian watched as her breathing slowed, her body sinking into the deep pull of sleep as the tension she had carried finally released its hold. Ian remained seated beside her, one arm resting along the edge of the bed, his gaze fixed upon her face. The firelight flickered softly across her features, casting a warm glow over her skin.
I've never seen anything so bonnie.
His eyes traced the curve of her cheek, the dark sweep of her lashes resting against her skin, the soft fall of her brown hair across the pillow. Her skin, pale as milk beneath the dim light, seemed almost unreal in its softness, untouched by the harshness of the world beyond those walls.
A strange ache settled in his chest. She had faced danger, fear, and betrayal, and yet here she lay, peaceful and unguarded beside him. Ian exhaled slowly, his hand tightening slightly against the bed as something deeper stirred within him.
I could have lost her.
The thought struck him with quiet force.
She is mine to protect.
And now, she had chosen him. That truth mattered more than anything.
“I’ll never fail ye again,” he murmured under his breath, though she did not hear it.
The fire burned low as the hours passed, and still Ian remained at her side.
The next morning dawned cold and bright, the castle stirring with renewed life as word spread quickly of Arianna’s return. Ian stood at the head of the council chamber, his expression carved from stone as the gathered men shifted uneasily around the long table. Arianna stood beside him, her presence calm but resolute, her gaze steady despite the weight of attention upon her. The contract lay before them. Ian’s hand rested upon it.
“I have decided to make this marriage contract nay more,” Ian said.
George, the eldest of the councilmen, stepped forward, his expression tight with concern. “Me Laird,” he began carefully, “ye must consider what ye are about to do.”
Ian did not look at him. “I have considered it,” he said.
George frowned. “If ye destroy that contract, it will send a message to every clan in these lands. They will say Laird McGuire doesnae keep his word or contracts.”
At that, Ian’s gaze snapped toward him. “I have been Laird for many years,” Ian said, his voice steady but edged with rising heat. “And I have always kept me word. The clans ken this about me.”
George did not back down. “One act can undo a lifetime of trust,” he countered. “Ye risk weakening yer position. The contract binds the McDonald lands to ours and…”
“It binds nothing,” Ian cut in sharply.
The room fell silent.
“It binds a woman against her will,” Ian continued, his voice growing harder. “It was written without truth, without honor, and I will nae uphold it.”
George stepped forward again, his voice more insistent now. “Then what of yer duty, me Laird? What of the power this alliance brings? Ye would cast it aside for sentiment?”
“For what is right,” Ian corrected.
George scoffed softly. “The clans will see weakness in this.”
That was when Ian’s temper snapped. “Weakness?” he repeated, his voice low and dangerous.
The councilmen shifted uneasily.
