Page 28 of Under the Laird’s Promise

He studied her for a moment, then nodded. "Fair enough. What dae ye propose?"

"First. Nay physical intimacy beyond what's necessary fer appearances." Her voice stayed firm despite the flush creeping down her throat. "We'll need tae touch in public, stand close, maybe hold hands. But naething beyond that. Naething private."

"Agreed." His voice went carefully neutral, though something flashed in his eyes. "What else?"

"Second. Complete honesty between us. Nay more secrets, nay more hiding information that could affect our safety." She held his gaze. "If I hear something, suspect something, notice something off, I tell ye immediately. And ye dae the same fer me."

"That seems reasonable."

"Third. Nay unilateral decisions involving the betrothal. We discuss everything before acting. Changes tae the timeline, interactions with Keir, announcements tae the Council. Everything." Her tone firmed. "This affects both our clans. We make choices taegether or nae at all."

"Aye." He shifted against the pillows. "Anything else?"

She paused, weighing her next words carefully. "When this is over, when Keir's no longer a threat, we end it cleanly. No drama, no scandal. We find a way tae dissolve the betrothal that protects both our reputations and leaves our clans on good terms." She met his eyes. "Agreed?"

That was exactly what she wanted. A temporary arrangement with clear boundaries and a planned exit.

Then why did her chest ache?

"Good." Tavish smiled slightly. "Though I'll wager ye'll regret those rules before this is done."

"Will I?" She raised an eyebrow. "And why's that?"

"Because eventually, lass, ye're going tae want me ae touch ye." His voice was teasing. "Ye're going ae lie awake at night wonderin’ how me hands would feel on yer skin. How me mouth would taste." Despite his mocking, his eyes darkened. "And when that happens, when ye're aching fer it, ye're going tae have tae beg me tae break our rules."

Heat flooded her face, her neck, spreading lower. "That's… ye're very sure of yerself."

"I'm sure of what I see in yer eyes right now." His smile turned wicked despite the pain he must be feeling. "That pretty flush creeping down yer throat. The way yer breathing just changed. The fact that ye haven't told me tae go tae hell fer saying it."

"Go tae hell." But her voice came out breathless.

"There it is." He leaned back against the pillows, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

"I want ye tae rest and heal so ye stop talking nonsense." She stood abruptly, smoothing her skirts. "I'll send someone tae change those bandages."

"Running away?"

"Leaving before I smother ye with a pillow." She moved toward the door. "Rest. That's an order."

"Bossy and beautiful. Me favorite combination."

She paused at the door, glancing back. "Tavish?"

"Aye?"

"Thank ye. "

His expression softened. "Ye're welcome."

She left before he could see how his words affected her. Before he could notice the way her hands trembled, her pulse raced, her body responded to promises he'd made in that rough, heated voice.

CHAPTER NINE

Ten council members sat around a scarred oak table, their faces ranging from skeptical to openly hostile. Angus presided from the head, looking grey and exhausted. Malcolm stood behind him, watching everything.

Tavish stood before them, spine straight, hands clasped behind his back. He could feel their judgment pressing against him like a physical weight.

"Let's be plain." Dougal MacEwan, a thick-necked man with more ale gut than sense, leaned forward. "This betrothal appeared from nowhere. Nay warning, nay negotiation we witnessed, naething. Just the lass riding in claiming she's promised tae a MacBain."