"Could be? Or will be?"
She met his eyes, saw concern there, and watched it shift to suspicion before he schooled his expression into careful neutrality.
"I dinnae ken yet," she admitted.
Liliane waited for his response, but instead his gaze shifted past her, focusing on something in the distance. His expression changed instantly, all softness draining away.
"What is it?" she asked.
"Riders." His voice was sharp. "In the trees below."
She turned to look, following his pointing finger. At first, she saw nothing, then movement caught her eye, horses and men, moving through the forest parallel to the loch.
"Could be travelers," she suggested.
"Could be." But his tone said he didn't believe it. "Can ye make out their colors?"
She squinted, trying to see detail at such a distance. "Nay. They're too far."
"Exactly. Which means they're tryin’ nae tae be noticed." He moved to his horse, his movements suddenly urgent. "We need tae get back."
"But."
"Now, Liliane."
The command in his voice brooked no argument. She let him lift her onto the horse, and then they were riding hard back toward the keep, the peaceful morning shattered by an unnamed threat.
"Who were they?" she asked, having to shout over the thunder of hooves.
"I dinnae ken. But unidentified riders on MacDonald land means trouble." His arms tightened around her. "Hold on."
They burst through the gates at full gallop, Tòrr barely slowing before he swung down and reached up to help her dismount.
"Michael!" His voice rang across the courtyard.
His brother appeared from the practice yard, sword still in hand. "What's the matter?"
"Riders in the western forest. Unknown colors. Could be scouts." Tòrr handed him the reins. "Double the guards. I want patrols increased on all approaches. And send word tae the watch towers, any movement on the borders gets reported immediately."
"How many riders?"
"Maybe six. I couldnae really tell. Could be more hidden in the trees."
Michael's expression darkened. "Munro?"
"Maybe. Or Campbell. Or anyone else who's decided now's the time tae test our defenses." Tòrr turned to Liliane. "Get inside. Stay with me sisters until I ken what we're dealin’ with."
"I'm nae a child tae be sent away."
"Ye're me wife, which makes ye a target." His voice was hard, only slightly lower than a growl. "Get inside. Now."
The authority in his tone made her bristle, but the genuine concern in his eyes kept her from arguing. "Fine. But ye'll tell me what ye find?"
“Aye. When it’s safe.”
He touched her cheek briefly—warm, making time stop for one impossible moment. It was so unexpected she was still processing it when he turned away, striding toward the practice yard. She stood frozen, one hand rising slowly to her cheek, where the warmth of his touch still lingered.
"Michael!" She watched her husband turn predatory, calculating and cold. "Double the watch on the north wall. Get men tae the gate, I want eyes on every approach!"
