Page 29 of The Highlander’s Iron Hold

The stables buzzed with activity as men tended to horses and equipment. Morag approached one of the younger soldiers.

"Where did the laird go today? I must find him."

The young man looked uncomfortable. "Me lady⁠—"

"Where is he?"

The soldier glanced around nervously before lowering his voice. "I rode out with him this morning for patrol, but since we didnae see any Frasers, he asked some of us tae return tae the castle The group is by the old watchtower ruins. But me lady, it isnae safe fer ye tae⁠—"

Morag was already moving toward Storm's stall, ignoring his protests. "Ye yerself just said ye didnae see any Fraser men. I’m sure I’ll be with me husband before I encounter any trouble." But me lady, ye cannae just⁠—"

Morag entered the horse's stall and reached for the saddle. Her hands moved with practiced efficiency as she threw the leather over the mare's back, her brothers' training serving her well despite the soldier's increasingly frantic objections.

"Please, Lady Armstrong, the laird will have me head if⁠—"

"Then ye'd better not tell him ye helped me, hadn't ye?" Morag said, tightening the girth strap with determination. She led the horse from the stall, the soldier backing away helplessly as she swung herself into the saddle with fluid grace.

"Me lady, please reconsider⁠—"

Despite the soldier's protests, Morag was soon riding hard across the moors, following the path he'd reluctantly described. The wind whipped her hair loose from its pins, and the threatening clouds seemed to mirror her churning emotions.

She found Colin's men first, a small group stationed near a cluster of ancient stones.

When she asked after the laird, they pointed toward a secluded alcove among the ruins, even though their expressions clearly disapproved of her presence.

Nodding in gratitude, Morag dismounted the mare and handed the reins to one of the men.

She walked several paces, but as soon as she rounded the trees, she sighted Colin sitting alone on a fallen stone. His back was to her as she approached, but instinctively, he turned, his hand drawing his sword before he saw who it was. Morag saw genuine surprise flash across his features before it was replaced by something harder.

"Morag? What in God's name are ye daeing here?"

She strode toward him, her anger and relief warring for dominance. "Ye cannae just leave and go wherever without letting me know where ye are!"

The vehemence in her voice made Colin's eyes narrow. "I told ye I was going on patrol."

"That was this morning!" Morag shot back, her hands clenched at her sides. "It's nearly evening now, and I had nay idea if ye were lying dead in a ditch somewhere or... or..."

"Or what?" Colin moved closer with that predatory grace that always made her pulse quicken, until only inches separated them. "I told ye I would be here fer as long as it took."

Morag's gaze lingered on his lips, and she swallowed a couple of times before she forged ahead. "Or if ye were off somewhere with... with someone else."

The words hung between them, and the cold expression on Colin's face softened. "Someone else?" He leaned forward, so close that Morag could just reach out and stroke his hair backward behind his ear. But she restrained herself. "What someone else would that be, lass?"

His hand came up to stroke her cheek, the calloused pad of his thumb tracing the line of her cheekbone. Morag gasped as his other hand buried itself in her loose hair, his fingers tangling in the golden strands.

"Tell me," he murmured, his voice dropping to a rough whisper that made her knees weak. "What woman did ye think I was with? And why daes the thought of it make yer eyes flash like fire?"

Morag felt heat pool low in her belly as his thumb traced the curve of her lower lip. She could see the way his own eyes had darkened, the slight flare of his nostrils that spoke of barely leashed desire.

"I... I heard..." she stammered, her thoughts scattering as he leaned closer. "About ye and Kirsten McKinley. That everyone expected ye tae marry her, and I thought maybe ye still..."

Colin's laugh was low and genuinely amused. "Kirsten McKinley?" His hand tightened slightly in her hair. "Lass, ye have nothing tae worry about there, I can assure ye. Kirsten couldnae hold a candle tae ye."

"What's that supposed tae mean?" Morag asked breathlessly.

But Colin had already stepped back, his expression growing serious again. "It means ye shouldnae have ridden out here alone. These lands arenae safe, especially fer ye. We need tae get ye back tae the castle. Come on."

The abrupt change left Morag reeling, her body still humming from his touch while her mind tried to process his words about Kirsten.

What did he mean she couldn't hold a candle tae me?

As Colin led her back toward the men, Morag found herself more confused than ever about her enigmatic husband and the feelings he stirred within her.