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“I willnae turn ye away,” he decided. “At least nae today. But I need some time to consider yer proposal.”

“Aye.” Isla nodded. “I understand, me Laird.”

Alisdair studied her again, trying to focus on whatever might help him judge if her proposal was genuine, but he kept getting distracted by her eyes.

“A maid will take ye to a guest chamber,” he said curtly.

He called for a servant and gave the order. Soon, a young maid came to escort her. Isla gathered her satchel and turned to go.

“No harm will come to ye, no matter me decision,” he promised.

Isla paused and nodded without turning to look back at him. He could see the tension still coiled in her body, the weariness beneath it, but said nothing. He had more important things to do.

The moment the door closed behind her, he went to refill his cup. He dragged his fingers through his hair as he drained the cup in one go.

Suddenly, the door swung open, and Duncan let himself in. His sharp eyes took in Alisdair’s agitated state in a single glance.

“Ye offered her hospitality,” Duncan said.

“I did.”

“To a Sinclair.”

“To a Murray.”

“We are playing word games now?”

“I assure ye this is definitely nae a game.”

“What happened, Alisdair?”

That was indeed the real question. What exactly had happened? This was supposed to be a normal day, sane and uneventful, filled with duties. And then she had appeared at his gate, tired, scared, and absolutely captivating. And, on top of it all, she had proposed marriage.

“I am asking ye what the Sinclair woman wanted.” Duncan chuckled at seeing him so lost.

Alisdair said nothing. He only stared at the door Isla had walked out of, the words he needed nowhere to be found. He looked down at his empty cup and decided whisky might not be the wisest advisor right now.

“She proposed marriage.”

Duncan’s smile faltered. “She did what?”

“She offered herself to me in exchange for me protection.”

Duncan blinked several times, glanced at the bottle of whisky, and decided that this revelation called for a drink of his own. He poured himself a measure and took a deep breath.

“And ye sent her to a room,” he commented.

“Where was I supposed to send her?” Alisdair scoffed.

“To hell, would be me guess, but it seems ye’re considering the proposal.”

“She is offering information.”

“She might also be offering a carefully laid trap by her uncle under that well-shaped body of hers,” Duncan retorted.

Alisdair glared at him, but a lifetime of friendship—since before either of them had grown teeth—had made Duncan entirely immune to it.

“Lord, ye are actually considering it!” Duncan chuckled.