Eloise’s chin lifted at that, pride flaring even now. “Call it what ye will,” she replied, “but I’ll nae go willingly to it.”
He turned away for a moment, pacing once as his thoughts churned, the weight of past and present colliding in a way he could not ignore. To send her back was the simplest course, the safest for his clan, the one that would invite no question nor consequence. Yet the image of Jenny refused to fade, her trust a silent accusation that had never truly left him.
“Damn it all,” he muttered, dragging a hand through his hair as frustration took hold. He could not ignore the risk, Drummond was no man to slight lightly, and to interfere would court conflict. But neither could he ignore the truth before him, stark and undeniable. At last, he turned back to her, his decision settling with a quiet finality.
“Out,” he said sharply to the guards, his tone brooking no argument.
They hesitated only a moment before bowing their heads and withdrawing from the hall, the heavy doors closing behind them. Silence followed, thick and expectant, as James stepped closer to Eloise once more.
“There may be a way to protect ye,” he said. “But it’ll require somethin’ drastic, and ye’ll have to trust me in it.”
Her brows drew together slightly as she said, “I’ve little choice but to hear it, so speak plain.”
He inclined his head slightly, as if acknowledging the truth of that. “Ye’ll pretend to be me future bride,” he said, the words direct, leaving no room for confusion.
Eloise gasped. “What?” she asked, disbelief clear in her voice. “Why would ye do such a thing?”
James’s mouth curved faintly, though there was little humor in it. “Because me council has been pressin’ me to marry, and I need time to see that they’re silenced,” he replied evenly.
He began to pace again, though his gaze returned to her quickly. “Four weeks,” he said, holding up a hand as if to mark the measure of it. “That’s all I need, long enough to settle matters here and move ye safely south, beyond Drummond’s reach. By then he may even have a new bride.”
Eloise studied him carefully, her voice quieter now as she asked, “And what is required of me?”
James stopped before her, his expression steady as he answered, “Nothin’ beyond the agreement, I’ll nae touch ye, nor claim what isnae mine.” He held her gaze as he added, “Ye’ll play the part, and that’s all.” There was a pause before he continued, his tone shifting just slightly, “But while ye remain here, ye’ll answer to me, and ye’ll follow me word without question.”
Eloise brow furrowed as she weighed his offer, uncertainty flickering beneath her composure.
“In that case,” she said at last, her voice careful, “ye might kindly tell me who ye are and where I am.”
That faint curve returned to his mouth, something more genuine this time, as he stepped back slightly. With a small, formal bow, he said, “I am James, Laird MacAllister, and ye stand in Castle Calibroch.”
He straightened, his gaze steady upon hers, the air between them charged with unspoken stakes. “So what is yer answer, lass?”
Eloise held his gaze for a long moment, her thoughts racing faster than her breath could steady.
“Aye,” she said at last, though uncertainty lingered in the word, “I’ll accept yer offer.”
The weight of it settled upon her at once, heavy and unclear, as though she had stepped into something she did not fully understand.
Is this a rescue, or a cage? I cannae tell. Only it is a path away from Drummond and that is good enough, for now.
Her eyes moved over him then, truly seeing him for the first time without the haze of fear clouding her senses. He stood broad and unyielding, his frame marked by strength and the quiet scars of battle, his dark curls falling carelessly about a face set in control. And those blue eyes, cold, sharp, unreadable, unnerved her even as something in her belly stirred at the sight of him.
“Then it’s settled,” James said, his voice firm, as though sealing the matter before doubt could creep in.
“I'll see it known, ye stand under me protection. Ye’ll be treated accordingly.”
“I thank ye… Laird MacAllister,” she said.
Without another word, he stepped behind her and reached for the bindings at her wrists.
Eloise stiffened at first, fear gripping her shoulders, but his movements were precise, controlled, and surprisingly gentle. The rope loosened beneath his hands, and as it fell away, his fingers brushed lightly against her skin.
A strange warmth followed the contact, unexpected and unwelcome, and she drew in a quiet breath.
“Ye’re free of that at least,” he said, stepping back as if nothing had passed between them.
Eloise flexed her hands slowly, though her gaze lingered on him a moment longer than she intended. “Aye,” she murmured, “so it seems.”
