Page 104 of Under the Laird’s Promise

Malcolm found him in the corridor outside his chambers, the letter still gripped in his hand.

"Council meeting in an hour, MacBain. They wish tae discuss the border situation." The steward's tone was carefully neutral, but his eyes held something sharper. Suspicion, maybe. Or assessment.

"I'll be there." Tavish folded the letter, tucking it inside his doublet. "I've news that might interest ye all."

Malcolm's eyebrows rose fractionally. "Oh?"

"Me clan is sending reinforcements. They'll arrive by week's end."

The steward's expression shifted through several emotions too quickly to name. "I see. That's… unexpected."

"Is it?" Tavish kept his voice level. "I told Maighread I was staying. Did ye think I'd do so without ensuring she had proper protection?"

"Nay, I suppose nae." Malcolm's gaze flicked to the letter hidden against Tavish's chest. "Though some on the Council may have questions about MacBain warriors occupying MacEwan lands."

"Then they can ask them at the meeting."

The council chamber felt smaller than usual when Tavish entered an hour later. Eight men sat around the scarred oak table, their faces ranging from curious to openly hostile. Maighread occupied her father's seat at the head, her spine straight and her expression giving nothing away.

Their eyes met across the room. Something passed between them, a silent communication that made his chest tighten. She was nervous. He could see it in the slight tension around her mouth, the way her fingers rested too carefully on the armrest.

He took his position standing behind her chair, close enough that anyone watching would understand his allegiance. His hand found her shoulder briefly, a touch that said I'm here. She relaxed fractionally beneath his palm.

"Gentlemen," Maighread began, her voice carrying across the chamber. "Thank ye fer gathering on short notice. We have developments tae discuss."

Dougal leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. "What developments would those be, m'lady?"

Tavish stepped forward before she could respond. "MacBain reinforcements are on the way. Fifty warriors, fully equipped, arriving within three days."

Silence crashed over the room like a wave.

Then Ewan spoke, his voice tight. "That's a generous gesture, MacBain. Though one wonders what yer clan expects in return fer such… investment."

"They expect naething." Tavish met the older man's gaze without flinching. "Except that Maighread remains safe and MacEwan lands remain secure."

"How noble." Dougal's tone dripped skepticism. "And these warriors will answer tae who, exactly? Ye? Yer braither? Or will they take orders from our lady here?"

"They'll answer tae me. I'll answer tae Maighread." Tavish's voice hardened. "As it should be, given she's the rightful heir. When we marry, I become laird of this clan, but it will be in service tae MacEwan interests and under Angus MacEwan's blessing."

"Future laird?" Finlay's eyebrows shot up. "That's presuming quite a bit, lad. The succession isnae settled yet."

"It is settled." Tavish moved around the table, his boots echoing on stone. "Angus MacEwan has settled the succession through our betrothal. When we marry, I become laird—bound by oath tae protect MacEwan interests and honor the clan's legacy. He blessed our union specifically tae ensure MacEwan remains strong and independent. Anyone questioning that is questioning his authority."

"We're nae questioning the laird's authority," Malcolm said carefully. "We're questioning whether bringing foreign warriors intae our lands serves those interests ye claim tae protect."

"Foreign?" Tavish's laugh came harsh. " We've traded taegether fer generations. Me faither and the laird were friends fer decades. MacBain and MacEwan have been allies longer than most of ye have been alive."

"Allies, aye. But this…" Ewan gestured vaguely. "This feels more akin tae occupation than alliance."

Heat flooded Tavish's veins, sharp and sudden. "Occupation? I'm protecting me betrothed from a man who's tried twice now tae either steal or kill her. If that feels uncomfortable tae ye, perhaps ye should examine why ye're more concerned about MacBain warriors than Sinclair mercenaries."

"Watch yer tone, lad," Dougal warned.

"Nay. I willnae." Tavish planted his palms on the table, leaning forward. "I'm tired of this Council treating Maighread's safety as a political inconvenience. I'm tired of ye questioning every move she makes, every decision she takes, every alliance she forms."

"We have a responsibility tae this clan," Finlay said stiffly. "That includes scrutinizing⁠—"

"It includes supporting yer lady!" Tavish's voice rose, bouncing off stone walls. "She's shown her leadership over and over again in the past month. She secured the border villages when ye were content tae let them starve. She faced down Keir Sinclair when ye would have handed her over like chattel. She's earned yer respect, yer loyalty, and yer gods-damned obedience."