Page 93 of Under the Laird’s Promise

Maighread appeared from the opposite entrance, flanked by two guards. Her expression remained carefully neutral, but Tavish could see the tension in her shoulders.

"Lord Sinclair," she said, her voice carrying across the stones. "This is unexpected. What brings ye tae MacEwan lands?"

Keir's smile never reached his eyes. "Surely allies may call upon each other without formal summons." He gestured to the castle around them. "I merely wished tae see removed how yer faither was daein’."

"How kind." Maighread's tone suggested it was anything but. "Though I'm certain a letter would have sufficed."

"Perhaps. But I found meself with questions that required answers in person about yer betrothal." Keir's gaze shifted to Tavish, cold and assessing. "Questions about the legitimacy of certain claims."

Tavish moved to stand beside Maighread, close enough to make the alliance clear. "What claims would those be?"

Keir's smile widened, predatory. "Ye see, I took the liberty of visiting MacBain lands recently. Had a fascinating conversation with yer braither, in fact."

Ice flooded Tavish's veins. "Did ye now?"

"Aye. And imagine me surprise when I inquired about the betrothal and found… naething. Nay formal contract. Nay announcement. Nay record whatsoever of any arrangement between MacBain and MacEwan clans." Keir's voice rose, carrying to the guards and servants now gathering. "Almost as though the entire betrothal was… invented."

Murmurs rippled through the courtyard. Tavish felt rather than saw Maighread stiffen beside him.

"The betrothal is real," she said firmly. "Whether Fionnlagh MacBain chose tae discuss it with ye is irrelevant. It was a private negotiation, as ye already kenned."

"Was it?" Keir stepped closer, his men forming up behind him. "Because from where I stand, it appears ye fabricated this entire arrangement tae avoid yer obligations. Obligations that include considering legitimate matches from neighboring clans. Matches such as the one I proposed."

"Which I rejected. Repeatedly." Maighread's voice turned sharp as broken glass. "Me refusal was clear then and remains clear now. Tavish and I are betrothed. That's the end of the discussion."

"Except it isnae, is it?" Keir's gaze swung back to Tavish. "Because if the betrothal is false, if young MacBain here is merely playing a part fer coin or favor, then Lady Maighread remains available. And I remain interested."

Tavish felt rage building in his chest, hot and dangerous. "The betrothal is legitimate. And even if it wasnae, Lady Maighread would never be available tae the sorry excuse fer a man standing before us."

"Careful, lad." Keir's expression darkened. "Ye're throwing around accusations ye cannae support."

"Am I? Because I seem tae recall yer mercenaries trying tae abduct Maighread from the road three days past. Hardly the actions of an honorable suitor."

Gasps erupted from the watching crowd. Keir's face flushed, anger breaking through his calculated composure.

"Lies," he snarled. "I sent nay mercenaries. Whatever attack ye claim happened, it had nothing tae dae with me."

"Strange, then, that the survivors fled toward Sinclair territory. That they shouted orders to take her alive and bring her tae ye specifically." Tavish took a step forward, his hand still on his sword. "Want tae keep denying it? Or shall we discuss how organized the ambush was? How they kenned our exact route?"

"Yer paranoid delusions are nae me concern." But Keir's eyes had gone cold, calculating. "Though I find it interesting that ye blame me fer yer own failures. Perhaps if ye were truly ae tot protecting Lady Maighread, such attacks wouldnae succeed or take place tae begin with."

"They didnae succeed. She's standing right here, unharmed."

"This time. But how long before yer luck runs out? How long before whatever imaginary betrothal ye've constructed crumbles under scrutiny?" Keir's voice rose again, playing to the audience. "I came here seeking truth. Instead, I find deception and deflection. The lady deserves better than a pretender trading on false promises."

"And ye think ye're better?" Tavish laughed, harsh and without humor. "Ye, who sends hired killers after a woman rather than accepting her refusal? Ye, who manipulates and threatens and schemes instead of acting with honor? Ye're right about one thing, Sinclair. Maighread deserves better. Which is exactly why she'll never be yers."

The silence that followed felt suffocating. Keir's hand moved to his own sword, his entire body vibrating with barely contained fury.

"Ye insult me," he said quietly. Dangerously. "In front of witnesses. On MacEwan lands, where I came in good faith."

"Good faith?" Tavish's laugh came louder this time. "Ye wouldnae recognize good faith if it stabbed ye in the chest. Which, incidentally, I'm more than happy tae demonstrate."

"Tavish," Maighread said softly. A warning.

But he was beyond heeding it. Weeks of watching Keir circle, of dealing with mercenaries and threats and political maneuvering had built to that moment. And Tavish was done being patient.

"I demand satisfaction," Keir announced, his voice ringing across the courtyard. "Fer the insults leveled against me honor and character. A formal duel, witnessed and binding."