Page 32 of Wicked Kilted Highlander

CHAPTERTWELVE

Darragh and Lara pushed off, the waves rocking the boat as it drifted away from the shore. The sky above them was a blanket of stars, the wind gentle and cool against their skin.

"Ye look like a bonnie mermaid, perched up there," Darragh told Laura, and the corners of her mouth twitched into a smile, though her eyes remained focused on the horizon.

"Is that what ye think of me?" she teased and Darragh chuckled, his laughter mixing with the sound of the waves as they began to cut through the water.

"Perhaps," he admitted, his black eyes twinkling with mischief. "But ye must admit, we make quite the pair—a fearsome warrior and a beautiful mermaid, sailing off to brave unknown dangers."

Lara finally broke loose, her laughter ringing out across the churning sea.

"Och, Darragh. Ye're an impossible man." She shook her head, a smile still playing on her lips.

"I'm glad ye think so," he grinned, the wind whipping his blond hair around his rugged face.

“I cannae believe he really fainted at the sight of me bare bosom,” she said suddenly and looked at Darragh.

“Bare or nae, yer a sight to be seen, Lara. The man was no fool and saw it.”

She did not seem offended, and they rode on in silence, the boat gliding through the water as if it had a will of its own.

The stars and the moon shone brightly in the velvety sky, illuminating their path forward. As they sailed towards MacLean lands, Darragh's gaze lingered on Lara as the boat bobbed along, his mind filled with images of the beautiful mermaid perched on the bow. "Ye still havenae told me much about yerself," Darragh said cautiously, his eyes scanning the coast for any sign of danger. "Why are we heading towards MacLean lands? In which village exactly do ye live?"

"Because… it's home," Lara whispered, her gaze fixed on the shore. Darragh noticed she answered only one of his questions. The wind tugged at her long brown hair, wrapping strands around her face like a veil.

"There's something else," Darragh pressed, his voice low and steady. "Something ye're nae telling me."

"I—" Lara began, her voice trembling slightly. "I cannae."

"Aye, ye can," Darragh encouraged, his hand reaching out to gently caress her cheek. "Trust me, lass."

As Lara was about to speak, the boat drew closer to the shore, and Darragh's breath caught in his throat. A group of men stood at the edge of the water, their horses prancing anxiously as they watched the approaching boat. Their shock at seeing Lara was palpable, and their gazes flicked between her and Darragh with a mixture of relief and suspicion. "Ah, Darragh," Lara’s voice got lost among the sound of the crashing waves. "There's something ye should ken—"

"Who are they?" he asked, cutting her off as fear gripped his heart.

"Those are me brothers," she admitted, her blue eyes filled with worry. "And me father… the laird."

"Oh, dear God," Darragh breathed, realization dawning on him. He was a MacDonald and she a MacLean. Two clans who had been at each other’s throats for years, taking any opportunity to strike at one another. Everything was doomed before it had even had a chance to blossom.

"I'm sorry, Darragh," Lara whispered. "I should've told ye."

Darragh's eyes widened as the realization struck him like a blow from a mace. Lara was not an ordinary villager—she was the daughter of the very laird whose lands they were now approaching. The weight of this revelation settled heavily on his shoulders, and for a moment, he felt as if he might be swallowed by the sea itself.

"Ye're… ye're the laird's daughter?" he stammered, struggling to comprehend what this meant for their fledgling bond. "Why didnae ye tell me?"

"Because I didnae want it tae change anything," she said softly, her hand reaching out to touch his arm. "I wanted ye tae see me, nae my title."

"Ah, Lara," Darragh sighed, his voice heavy with the weight of their shared secrets. "What are we going to dae now?"

Determination shone in her eyes as she answered. "We’ll face them, they’ll nae dae anything tae hurt ye. Ye’ve saved my life."

As the boat scraped against the rocky shore, Darragh prepared himself for the confrontation that awaited them. He knew the truth could not be hidden forever, but he also knew that his past would not define him. It was an old feud between their clans, one that had nothing to do with them. And if Lara’s father was open-minded enough to see it, he’d realize that all Darragh wanted to do was help his daughter. All right, and maybe kiss her a few times. And the rest.

The sight of Lara's family waiting for them was unnerving. The men’s swords glinted menacingly in the moonlight. He could feel their surprise and the tension rolling towards him like a brewing storm.

"Faither," Lara called out, and a large man in the blue and golden plaid of the MacLeans ran forward, his broad shoulders squared. He hugged her to him the second the boat docked and he could reach her.

"Where have ye been, my bairn?" his voice cracking, laced with love and fear. "We thought ye had been killed child!” he exclaimed, with tears in his eyes.

Lara's brothers rushed towards them, their faces contorted with happiness.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," Lara assured them, her smile bright and genuine. "It’s such a long story, but I’m all right now. This is Darragh. He saved my life."

"Thank ye, friend," Lara’s father said, extending his hand towards Darragh in a sign of peace. "I am Laird MacLean. Ye have me deepest gratitude fer saving me daughter’s life."

"Father, he is Darragh…"

"MacDonald," Darragh said with his eyes fixed on the ground ready to see the consequences that were coming. Before Darragh could react, Laird MacLean pulled out his sword and lunged at him, a wild cry tearing through his lips.

"Nay, nay, nay!" Lara shouted, throwing herself in front of Darragh but he was knocked out before he could do anything else.