Page 12 of Under the Laird’s Promise

Maighread nodded in agreement.

Three years ago, Tavish had been nowhere near Edinburgh during Beltane. He'd been dealing with the aftermath of his catastrophic mistake, hiding in shame while Angus MacEwan protected him from consequences.

But Keir couldn't know that.

Keir sat back, still watching them. "Tell me, Lady Maighread, what attracted ye tae Tavish MacBain? When ye first met at this… Beltane gathering."

"His kindness." She didn't hesitate. "He helped me when I dropped me wine cup. Caught it before it spilled all over me gown."

Tavish blinked. That was… actually clever. Specific enough to sound real, vague enough to be unverifiable.

"And ye, MacBain?" Keir asked. "What attracted ye tae the lady?"

Her desperation and me guilt.

"Her spirit. She spoke her mind, even at court where everyone's so careful. I liked that."

"How charming." Keir's smile never reached his eyes. "Young love blooming at Beltane. Like something from a bard's tale."

"Aye," Tavish said simply, his hand finding Maighread's beneath the table. "It was."

Keir studied them both for a long moment, clearly searching for cracks in their story. When none appeared immediately, he shifted tactics.

"And the wedding?" he asked. "When is that tae occur?"

"Soon," Tavish said firmly. "The details will be settled at MacEwan lands."

"With me faither's blessing," Maighread added.

"How touching." Keir stood abruptly. "Well, I wish ye both every happiness. I look forward tae seeing Laird MacEwan confirm this joyous news."

"As dae we," Tavish replied evenly, meeting Keir's gaze without flinching.

Keir's smile was predatory. "Sleep well, both of ye. We've a long ride tomorrow."

He walked away, his men following. The Sinclair contingent settled on the far side of the clearing, leaving MacBain's men clustered near Tavish and Maighread.

Greg immediately moved closer. "What in Christ's holy name⁠—"

"Nae now," Tavish cut him off. "Later. We'll talk later."

"Aye, we will." Greg's voice promised a thorough interrogation. "Because that was the biggest load of bollocks I've ever heard, and I've listened tae Lowland merchants haggle."

"Greg—"

"Later," his friend repeated, echoing Tavish's own words back at him. "But by God's wounds, Tavish, ye'd better have a good explanation."

CHAPTER FIVE

MacEwan Castle rose from the hillside like a scar on the landscape, grey stone against grey sky. Maighread's chest constricted at the sight of it. Home. Except it didn't feel like home anymore. It felt like a trap closing.

The gates swung open as their party approached. Guards lined the walls, watching the Sinclair men with undisguised hostility. Good. At least someone still remembered which side they were on.

They clattered into the courtyard, horses breathing hard after the long ride. Servants rushed forward. Maighread recognized faces, saw questions forming, saw shock when they noticed Tavish riding so close beside her.

She dismounted before anyone could help her, legs protesting after hours in the saddle. Mud still caked her cloak. Her hair had come completely loose from its braid, hanging in tangled waves down her back. She probably looked half-feral.

Perfect way to present her betrothed to the household.