Page 19 of Under the Laird’s Promise

"Was I?" His voice dropped lower, rougher. Something in his eyes made her pulse quicken. "Because from where I stood, it didnae feel like acting."

Her heart hammered against her ribs. "Tavish⁠—"

"Ye were terrified," he continued, not letting her deflect. "I could feel ye trembling when ye took me arm. See the fear in yer eyes when Keir spoke. But ye didnae let it show. Ye stood there, brave and beautiful, and faced him down."

Beautiful. He'd called her beautiful, and the way he said it—like he meant it, like it mattered—made something warm unfurl in her chest.

"I wasnae brave," she admitted quietly. "I was scared out of me mind."

"Bravery isnae the absence of fear, lass. It's acting despite it." His hand lifted, as if to touch her face, then dropped back to his side. "Ye did well taenight. Better than well."

The compliment shouldn't have affected her so strongly. This was all still just an arrangement, a temporary alliance born of desperation. But standing there in the quiet corridor, with Tavish looking at her like that, it was getting harder to remember why that mattered.

"When ye come back," she said, forcing herself to focus on practical matters, "we'll need tae have our story even more solid. In case Keir returns."

"Aye." But he didn't step back, didn't break eye contact. "We'll practice. Make it convincing."

"More convincing than taenight?"

"We cannae afford any mistakes. Ye should rest now," he said, though he still didn't move. "It's been a long day."

"So should ye." But neither of them stepped away. "Thank ye," she said then, quietly. "Fer tonight. Fer all of it. I ken this is more than ye signed up fer."

"I signed on tae protecting ye from Keir Sinclair." His voice gentled slightly. "That hasnae changed. Whatever else happens, I'll keep that promise."

"Why?"

"Because I made a vow. And I keep me vows." He continued up the stairs. "Goodnight, Maighread."

"Goodnight."

She watched him climb the stairs, her heart still racing, her skin still tingling from his proximity. Only when he'd disappeared from view did she realize she'd been holding her breath.

This was supposed to be simple. Temporary. A strategic lie to escape Keir's trap.

So why did watching Tavish walk away feel like loss?

Tavish made it halfway to his assigned chamber before Greg intercepted him, falling into step beside him with the ease of long friendship.

"That was quite the performance taenight," Greg said mildly.

"Was it?" Tavish kept walking, not looking at his friend.

"Aye. Very convincing. Almost had me believing it meself." Greg paused.

Tavish said nothing, just pushed open the door to his chamber. Greg followed him inside without invitation, closing the door firmly behind them.

"We're leaving day after tomorrow," Tavish said, moving to the window. "Back tae MacBain lands. I need tae speak with Fionnlagh, explain what's happened."

"Explain what, exactly? That ye've agreed tae a fake betrothal with a woman ye just met? That ye're lying tae one of the most dangerous men in Scotland? That ye're risking a clan war over a debt ye've never told anyone about?" Greg crossed his arms.

Tavish's hands clenched on the windowsill. "I'm helping her. That's all."

"Is it?" Greg's voice softened. "Because from where I stood taenight, it looked like considerably more than duty."

"Ye're seeing things that arenae there."

"Am I? Because the way ye looked at her when she took yer arm—" Greg shook his head. "I've kenned ye since we were bairns, Tavish. I've never seen ye look at a lass like that."