Page 7

“Ye are the daughter of a laird,” Caelan corrected bluntly. “Ye daenae wait in the shadows of me corridor like a servant. If ye are hungry, ye walk into that hall and take a seat at the high table.”

Mabel’s delicate jaw tightened. The quiet, introverted girl he had seen in the solar suddenly sparked with a fierce, stubborn defiance.

“I am the daughter of a dead laird,” she countered, her voice ringing with a startling, blunt honesty. “And I daenae ken me place in this world anymore.”

The raw pain in her voice bothered him. Caelan’s jaw locked. He shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his leather coat to stop himself from reaching out to touch her.

“What will become of Clan MacAllister?” Mabel asked, stepping a fraction closer. She tilted her head back to look up at him, her blue eyes pleading for the truth. “Me sister, Rhea, is married into the MacMahon clan. They are still rebuilding from the war. They cannae send an army to hold me father’s lands. What happens now?”

Caelan stared at her. He could lie to her. He could offer her false comfort, pat her on the head, and send her inside to eat. But she was William’s daughter. She deserved the brutal truth.

“Every ambitious laird in the Highlands will soon be looking to claim it,” Caelan explained coldly, his voice devoid of any softness. “Yer father left no male heir. Ye are the rightful heiress. The moment word of his death spreads, they will circle like vultures. They will send envoys with sweet words, and if that fails, they will send swords.”

Mabel flinched, the harsh reality draining the little remaining color from her pale cheeks. She crossed her arms tightly over her chest, as if physically trying to hold herself together.

“They will tear me father’s legacy apart,” she whispered, her voice cracking.

“Aye,” Caelan agreed. “They will.”

Mabel took a deep, shuddering breath. She uncrossed her arms and looked directly into his face. She did not look at the scar. She looked straight into his eyes.

“Help me,” Mabel demanded quietly. It was not a plea. It was a challenge.

Caelan’s breath caught. The fierce determination shining in her delicate face captivated him.

“I swore to protect ye,” Caelan rumbled, taking a slow step toward her. The air between them suddenly felt incredibly thick, charged with a heavy, dangerous tension. “I will nae fail the promise I made to yer father. I will do everything in me power to secure yer clan.”

“But?” Mabel prompted, reading the dark, unyielding shift in his posture.

“But,” Caelan continued, his voice dropping into a harsh, vibrating whisper that demanded submission, “ye must agree to obey me while ye remain under me protection. I cannae keep ye alive if ye are fighting me decisions.”

Mabel frowned, her blue eyes narrowing defensively. “What kind of decisions?”

“All of them,” Caelan stated flatly. He leaned down slightly, bringing his face closer to hers. “Ye will follow me orders without question. Ye will nae leave this keep without me permission. And if securing yer clan’s future ultimately requires a political marriage to a strong, allied house… ye will accept it.”

The words tasted like poison on his tongue. The mere thought of giving her to another man made something twist low in his gut, but it was the only tactical solution to save her people.

Mabel gasped softly, her eyes widening in shock. “Ye want to marry me off like a prized mare?”

“I want to keep ye breathing,” Caelan countered fiercely, a thick muscle ticking wildly in his jaw. “A marriage secures an army. An army holds yer lands. It is the only language the Highlands respect.”

Mabel stared at him. Her chest heaved with shallow, rapid breaths. She had lost her father. She had lost her home. And now, the terrifying warrior standing in front of her was demanding complete control over her entire future.

She hated the terms. They left her feeling trapped, helpless, and at his mercy.

But as she looked up into his piercing gray eyes, she remembered the way he had gently lifted the young recruit from the mud in the courtyard. She remembered the unbreakable vow he had made in the solar. He was a ruthless monster to the rest of the world, but he was currently the only shield standing between her and destruction.

“Fine,” Mabel said.

Her voice was incredibly quiet, but it rang with a startling, resilient strength.

Caelan blinked, slightly taken aback by how quickly she had agreed. “Ye accept the terms?”

“I accept them,” Mabel confirmed, taking a bold step forward until the toes of her soft leather slippers nearly brushed the tips of his heavy iron-capped boots. “But I have a condition of me own, Laird MacCarron.”

Caelan’s dark eyebrows shot up. “Ye are in no position to make demands, lass.”

“I am the heiress of Clan MacAllister,” Mabel corrected bluntly, her chin lifting higher. “And if I am surrendering me entire future into yer hands, ye will give me a promise in return.”