Page 20 of Under the Laird’s Promise

Heat crept up Tavish's neck. "She needed protection. I provided it."

"Aye, ye did. Ye also touched her every chance ye got. Positioned yerself between her and Sinclair like a man guarding something precious. Smiled at her like she was the only person in that hall." Greg moved closer. "So I'll ask ye again—what's really happening here?"

Tavish turned from the window, meeting his friend's gaze. "I dinnae ken."

The admission cost him, but it was true. He didn't know what was happening. Didn't understand why protecting Maighread felt like more than obligation. Why the thought of leaving her there, even temporarily, made his chest tight. Why watching her face down Keir with that quiet courage had made him want to pull her close and never let go.

"She's clever," he said quietly. "Brave. Desperate enough tae gamble everything on a stranger's honor."

"And beautiful," Greg added. "Ye forgot beautiful."

"I didnae forget." Tavish scrubbed a hand over his face. "Christ, Greg. What have I gotten meself intae?"

"Something complicated." Greg clapped him on the shoulder. "But when has that ever stopped ye?" He sobered. "Ye ken this isnae just about the debt anymore, aye?"

"I ken." The words came rough. "But I made a promise tae Angus. Tae keep her safe. That's what I'm daeing."

"Is that all ye're daeing?"

Tavish thought about Maighread trembling in the cold, pressing close tae him by the tree. Thought about her grey eyes looking up at him in the corridor, wide and trusting despite every reason not tae trust. Thought about how right she'd felt on his arm, how natural it had been tae stand beside her and claim her as his.

"Nay," he admitted. "I dinnae think it is."

"Good." Greg grinned. "Because lying tae Keir Sinclair is one thing. Lying tae yerself is considerably more dangerous."

"I'm nae lying tae meself."

"Aren't ye? Then answer me this—when ye return here, will it be tae maintain a fiction? Or because ye cannae stand tae be away from her?"

The question hit harder than any blade. Because Greg was right. The thought of two weeks without seeing Maighread, without knowing she was safe, without hearing her sharp wit or watching her face down threats with that fierce determination—it already felt like too long.

"Both," Tavish said finally. "It's both."

"That's what I thought." Greg moved toward the door.

He left, closing the door softly behind him.

Tavish stood alone in the quiet chamber, Greg's words echoing in his skull.

Stop pretending.

But what was the alternative? Admitting he was falling for a woman he'd known a day? A woman who'd claimed him out of desperation, who saw him as a convenient shield rather than a man? A woman who would dissolve this betrothal the moment Keir was no longer a threat?

He moved tae the bed and sat heavily, exhaustion crashing over him.

Soon he'd leave. Return tae MacBain lands and face his brother's questions. Explain the mess he'd walked intae and the promises he'd made.

And in two weeks, he'd come back.

For the betrothal. For Angus. For the debt he owed.

And, God help him, for Maighread herself.

Morning light streamed through the narrow window, cold and grey. Maighread dressed quickly, stomach knotting.

Today Keir would leave the castle. He would not be far, but at least out of the immediate household. One less set of eyes watching constantly.

She descended to the courtyard just as Keir's party assembled. Horses stamped, breath steaming in the chill air. Sinclair men checked saddles and weapons with military efficiency.