"I saw men. Three of them. In the forest beyond, watchin' the keep."
"Christ." His jaw clenched. "Why didnae ye tell someone immediately?"
"I didnae want tae raise alarm if it was naethin'. Maybe just travelers or people that didnae want tae cause any harm."
"Travelers or guards dinnae lurk in forests watchin' keeps." His voice was hard. "What did they look like? Their plaids?"
"I couldnae see clearly. Too far away. But they were definitely watchin'."
He was quiet for a moment, tension radiating from him. Then his hand moved from the bench to her shoulder, warm and solid. "Ye're safe. I willnae let anythin' happen tae ye."
"How can ye promise that? Ye dinnae even ken who they were."
"I dinnae have tae ken who they are tae ken they willnae get past me walls, me guards, or me." His voice carried absolute certainty. "Ye're under me protection now, Liliane. That means somethin'. I’ll kill anyone who tries tae harm ye."
The quiet certainty in his tone sent a strange warmth through her, frightening in its intensity. She looked away quickly. “Ye say that as if it’s simple.”
“It is.”
Against all reason, all logic, she believed him. The protective weight of his hand, it made her feel safer than she'd felt in years.
"Thank ye," she whispered.
"Dinnae thank me fer daein' me duty as yer husband." But his hand squeezed gently before dropping away. "Though I appreciate ye tellin' me."
Catherine sing-songed, breaking the moment they shared between them. "Ye've got that look. The protective one."
"I dinnae have a look."
"Ye absolutely have a look," Michael agreed. "Same one Faither used tae get when anyone threatened Maither."
"Ye're all seein' things." But Tòrr's arm had somehow found its way around the back of the bench again, closer to Liliane's shoulders.
Alyson wrinkled her nose. “Och, ye two are enough tae ruin a sunny afternoon with all that broodin’.”
Tòrr ignored her, turning to face Liliane again. “If ye see anythin’ again, tell me. Dinnae keep it tae yerself.”
“I can handle a shadow, me laird.”
He straightened, a faint smirk curving his mouth. “Aye, I’ve noticed ye like tae handle things yerself. Usually badly.”
Sofia sliced a cake she had prepared that morning in the kitchen and brought to their gathering with practiced ease, handing the first piece to Alyson. “There,” she said. “If this daesnae sweeten the day, naethin’ will.”
Alyson grinned, taking a generous bite. “Saints, that’s good. Sofia, ye could make a feast fit fer kings out of scraps.”
“I dae what I can,” Sofia replied modestly, cutting another slice for Catherine. “Now, tell me, are the dancers from Glen Etive comin’ tae the festival this year?”
“Aye,” Catherine said, accepting her plate. “They always bring the best pipers. Last year, they near drowned out the singers from Balquhidder.”
“Better that than the weather drownin’ everyone,” Alyson quipped. “Last festival, the rain started just as the dancin’ began. Poor Hamish slipped and near broke his nose tryin’ tae impress Morag.”
Liliane laughed softly. “Did he succeed at all?”
“Only in makin’ a fool of himself,” Alyson said with a wicked grin. “Though Morag still married him, so maybe fallin’ on his face was a charm.”
Michael leaned back in his chair, taking a bite of his own slice. “I heard the lads from Strathspey are sendin’ their best this year. They say their chief’s daughter dances like she’s got fire in her feet.”
“Then she’ll fit right in here,” Tòrr said dryly, his gaze sliding briefly to Liliane. “We’ve nay shortage of fire.”
