“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 forher.
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.
