Page 11 of Under the Laird’s Promise

"Better?" he asked quietly.

"A bit." But she was still trembling.

The space between them felt charged, dangerous. He could see her breath misting in the cold air, could count the freckles across her nose in the faint moonlight filtering through the branches. She watched him with those storm-grey eyes, wary but not afraid.

"Ye ken what ye're asking of me," he said, his voice low. "This isnae just a lie we can walk away from."

"I ken." Her voice came out barely above a whisper. "But I'm asking anyway."

Tavish became acutely conscious of how close they stood, how easy it would be to lean in just a fraction more.

This is dangerous.

From the camp, voices drifted on the wind. Laughter, rough and masculine. The crackle of burning wood. Greg's voice raised in some jest that earned answering guffaws.

There at the tree line, wrapped in shadow and cold, Tavish allowed himself to notice how her breathing gradually slowed, steadied. How trust radiated from her despite having every reason to distrust him.

"Why did ye really agree tae help me?" she asked quietly.

"I told ye. I owe yer faither."

"That's nae a full answer."

"It's all the answer ye're getting taenight."

She looked up at him. Their faces were very close now. He could see flecks of darker grey in her eyes, could count her eyelashes if he wanted. Could lean forward just a fraction and––

Tavish stepped back abruptly, breaking contact. "We should return. Before Sinclair comes looking."

Disappointment flickered across her face, there and gone. "Aye. Of course."

They walked back side by side, not touching. The cold rushed in where her body had been, making him instantly regret the distance.

Get hold of yerself.

His body didn't seem to be listening.

As they approached the fire, Keir Sinclair looked up. His grey eyes tracked their movements like a predator watching prey.

"Lovers' quarrel resolved?" His voice carried false pleasantry.

"There was nay quarrel," Tavish said evenly. He guided Maighread back to their spot near the flames. "Just discussing travel plans."

"How romantic." Keir smiled, cold and sharp. "Though I confess curiosity about this betrothal. When were things finalized between yer clans?"

Tavish settled himself, pulling Maighread down beside him. His hand rested possessively on the back of her seat. "Last month. The negotiations were conducted privately through letters between our families."

"I see." Keir leaned forward slightly. "And when were ye planning tae wed?"

"Soon," Tavish said firmly, before Maighread could speak. "With her faither's blessing."

"How convenient that ye finalized everything right when Lady Maighread needed tae return home." Keir's tone dripped skepticism. "Almost providential timing, wouldn't ye say?"

"Me father's illness wasnae convenient," Maighread said sharply. "But aye, when the summons came, Tavish offered tae escort me home. As me betrothed should."

"And where did ye meet?" Keir directed this at Tavish. "Originally. When this grand romance began."

"At the Beltane gathering three years ago," Tavish said smoothly. "In Edinburgh. Our families were both attending court."