Declan looked at the garlanded pine branches hung along the mantel while gold ribbons draped the windows. A fire burned in the hearth, throwing sparks of amber light that danced across the ornate rug.
His gaze swept the room before he stepped closer to the fire, his shadow flickering against the stone wall.
He turned toward Ross, his tone curt. “Ye said ye wished to speak. Then speak, Laird Ross.” He crossed his arms, every inch of him radiating quiet authority.
Ross hesitated, visibly swallowing before replying. “Laird McCallum, I… ah… I assure ye, this matter was nae a deliberate slight to ye or yer clan as I have already said,” he stammered. “If I’d known of this nonsense before, I would’ve stopped it at once.”
His hands twisted at his sides, the proud Laird clearly fighting to maintain his dignity before the man who could shatter an alliance with a word.
Declan’s eyes hardened. “Aye, but the matter stands as it is,” he said sharply. “Yer daughter was locked in with me, and half the castle likely knows by now. If I were a lesser man, I’d call it an insult meant to shame me before me weddin’ day.” His jaw tensed as he spoke, each word cutting through the warm air like frost.
Rosaline flinched slightly at his tone, though she masked it quickly with a nervous smile.
“Surely, me Laird ,” she said lightly, “ye daenae think me family would do such a thing intentionally? I can be careless at times. I meant nay harm.” Her attempt at charm rang hollow, brittle as spun glass.
Declan’s gaze flicked toward her, unimpressed. “Careless, aye? Ye do remember ye admitted to this, aye?” he said dryly.
The fear in her eyes was too real. Laird Ross coughed uneasily, glancing toward the door as if praying for interruption.
“Let us… let us nae dwell on it further,” he said hastily. “We’ll handle the matter discreetly. What’s important, Laird McCallum, is that our clans remain devoted to the unification we sought with a marriage between our clans. This… mishap neednae sour the bond between us.”
Declan studied him for a long moment, his silence heavy. The flames reflected in his dark eyes, catching the hint of something unreadable there.
“We shall see,” he said at last. “A man’s word means somethin’, Laird Ross. I trust ye’ll see to it that this scandal dies before it breathes.”
Ross nodded fervently, relief flooding his features. “Aye, of course, me Laird .”
A fine start to a marriage.And the bride already buried in deceit.
The heavy door creaked open, and a soft rustle of skirts drew his attention. Isabelle entered quietly, her hair now neatly bound and her face pale but composed.
Declan’s eyes met hers briefly, one glance, no words, and something unspoken passed between them.
In that single look, he knew one thing with certainty.
This Yule will change far more than either clan planned.
Declan stood beside the hearth. He cast a measured glance toward the two women standing before him. Isabelle stood silently near Rosaline, her long brown curls catching the firelight, her slender frame poised but tense.
Declan could not help but compare her to her cousin. Isabelle’s quiet strength and grace made Rosaline’s painted prettiness seem all the more shallow.
He had come for a bride, not a scandal. Yet as he looked at Isabelle, he wished that he was being bound to her instead of the vain lass beside her. Her brown eyes held both pride and fear, and something about the mix stirred something unexpected within him. Declan turned away before the thought could linger, focusing instead on Laird Ross, who looked ready to faint from worry.
Laird Ross cleared his throat. “I ken this is nae how I wished to greet ye, Laird McCallum,” he began, his voice shaking. “But I can assure ye, we’ll set things to right. Whatever ye think happened. ”
Declan cut him off sharply. “I ken what happened, Laird Ross. Yer niece set me up for a jest, and it’s turned into an insult against both our clans.” He spoke evenly though his tone carried weight. “I’ll nae take blame for somethin’ I did nae do. The matter is of yer own clan’s makin’, nae mine.”
Ross’ face paled as he wrung his hands together. “Aye, but ye must understand, the whole castle will have heard by now. Me daughter was found half decent, locked in a room with a man. Even if ye did naught, the talk will ruin her name. She’ll nae find a match now, nae after this.”
Declan arched a brow. “So, it’s me presence that ruined her, is it?” he asked coolly. “Ye think I wanted to be trapped in a dark room with a stranger? I was tryin’ to prevent a threat to yer household, and instead, I find meself accused.”
He took a slow step toward the hearth, letting the heat touch his face. “If it’s her name that’s at stake, it’s nae because of me. It’s because ye’ve nay control over yer own kin.”
Rosaline flinched and looked away, her cheeks flushing with guilt. Isabelle, however, met his gaze with quiet dignity. Declan’s attention lingered on her again, the faint tremor of her hands betraying her nerves. For a moment, he saw not a lass in disgrace but a woman caught in the middle of others’ folly.
Declan began pacing the length of the room, his mind working quickly.
This is a mess.Should I cancel this weddin’? This Rosaline is nae fit to be a maither.
