Page 36 of The Highlander’s Iron Hold

She's a natural leader.

Colin was surprised by the surge of pride he felt watching her take charge. Many ladies of her station would have retreated to their chambers rather than soil their hands with such work.

But he had to put his admiration to one side, for as laird, he had more pressing concerns.

"Niven," he said, his voice dropping to the authoritative tone his men knew well. "Have ye cross-checked who all these people are? Verified they're actually from the settlement?"

Niven's face tightened. "Me laird, in the rush tae get them all tae safety, there was nay time fer⁠—"

"There's always time fer security," Colin cut him off sharply. "Ye ken better than this. It's in cases of emergency that we need tae show true strength and resilience, not loosen our guard and allow danger inside our walls."

His captain's jaw worked for a moment before he replied quietly, "I ken yer fears, me laird... but there was no other way today. These people were dying out there."

Colin stared at him for a long moment, then gave a curt nod. He couldn't argue with Niven's reasoning. Still, it didn't make the situation any less dangerous.

An hour later, he sat at the head of the council table, his most trusted men gathered around him. The emergency meeting had been called to assess the day's attack and plan their response.

"Fraser's getting bolder," Duncan said grimly. "He's trying tae drive our people from their lands."

"Aye," agreed an older advisor. "And with sixty more mouths tae feed, our stores will be strained. Which brings me tae another point." He leaned forward, his weathered face serious. "We are starting tae question what role Lady Armstrong plays in all this. We've not yet received all the benefits promised from this marriage."

Colin's jaw tightened dangerously. "What are ye saying?"

"The dowry, me laird. The gold that was promised—nae all of it has been delivered yet. And now we're feeding more people while still waiting fer the resources the marriage was supposed tae bring."

"Enough," Colin said sharply, his voice carrying the steel that had earned him his reputation. "Lady Armstrong has a place here, and she'll be good fer this clan. I'll nae hear another word questioning her worth or her presence."

But could he blame them for their concern? The dowry should have arrived by then. He was defending a marriage that hadn't yet brought the promised relief.

The men around the table exchanged glances, but none dared challenge their laird's tone. Colin's defense of his wife was clear, even if the practical concerns remained unspoken.

MacLeod shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Me laird, we're nae questioning Lady Armstrong's character. But the practical matter remains—we've increased our mouths tae feed while the promised resources have been... delayed."

"The resources will come," Colin said firmly, though doubt gnawed at him. They had to. If they didn’t, he was gambling his clan's survival on a woman's smile and his own weakness.

"Aye, me laird," MacLeod replied carefully. "But until they dae, we're operating on faith rather than coin."

Colin's hand tightened on the arm of his chair. Around the table, he could read the unspoken questions in his men's faces. They'd trusted his judgment, followed his lead into this marriage alliance, and now they were waiting to see if their faith had been misplaced.

What if I was wrong?

The thought crept in like poison.

What if I let my attraction tae her cloud my judgment?

They spent another hour discussing patrol schedules, rationing plans, and defensive measures. When Colin finally dismissed them, his head was pounding from the weight of decisions and the constant worry about his clan's survival. As the men filed out, each burdened with new responsibilities, Colin remained seated for a moment, staring at the maps spread before him.

The ink lines and symbols that marked their territory seemed to mock him. All these lands, all these people depending on him, and he'd tied their fate to an arrangement that hadn't yet proven its worth. His father would have demanded guarantees, secured the full dowry before allowing the marriage to proceed.

But what would he do at the point he found himself in that moment? His father had never been a man driven by loneliness, the hope that maybe, just maybe, he could have both duty and happiness. Because he had had that with his mother, at least for some time.

How much longer can we hold out? How many more attacks before our people lose faith entirely?

The irony wasn't lost on him. For years, his people had whispered that the Iron Laird needed a wife, someone to soften his harsh edges and bring warmth to his cold halls. Now that he had one, they were discovering that warmth didn't fill empty bellies or repair broken walls.

Colin chuckled bitterly. Iron didn't bend, didn't compromise, didn't make decisions based on a woman's laugh or the way firelight caught in her hair. Iron endured.

The sound of laughter drifting up from the great hall drew his attention. It was a sound so unexpected, so at odds with the grim discussions he'd just endured, that it pulled him from his brooding like a lifeline.