Maxwell looked away. “She does nae need to ken every detail.”
Finley’s gaze sharpened. “Aye, but she asked to be treated as an equal.”
Maxwell’s pulse thudded once, hard.
He remembered Ariella’s face as she held the newborn. The steadiness in her hands. The warmth in her eyes. The way she looked like she belonged in a world Maxwell had promised himself he would never offer her.
If danger came, it would come for her too.
He could not afford softness now.
“I will handle it,” Maxwell said.
Finley’s mouth tightened. “That sounds like what ye say when ye plan to do everything alone.”
Maxwell’s gaze snapped back. “Do ye think I can afford to do otherwise?”
Finley’s voice lowered. “Ye are nae alone anymore.”
Maxwell’s throat tightened.
He turned back to the table, flattening the letter with the heel of his hand like he could crush the problem into obedience.
“Summon Torcall,” Maxwell ordered. “Have him ready a dozen riders within the hour. Have them carry word to Hunter that reinforcements are coming, and he is to hold position, nae seek glory.”
Finley nodded, already moving toward the door.
“And Finley,” Maxwell said sharply.
Finley paused.
Maxwell’s voice came out rougher than he liked. “If anything happens to him…”
Finley’s gaze softened. “It willnae.”
Maxwell shook his head once, a harsh motion. “Ye daenae ken that.”
Finley came back to the table and placed a steady hand on the wood, grounding the moment.
“I ken this,” Finley said. “Ye willnae let it happen without a fight. And Hunter is stubborn enough to survive out of spite.”
Maxwell huffed a humorless breath. “That is true.”
Finley left.
Maxwell stood alone in the study, staring at the letter until the words blurred.
A surge of fury rose again, but underneath it was something colder.
Fear.
Not for land.
Not for reputation.
For blood.
For the one person left who could carry the McNeill name if Maxwell fell, or if Maxwell chose to keep his rules.
