Archer withdrew his hand slowly, as though wary of moving too fast in front of a predator.
Lyall scoffed. “Savages.”
Maxwell’s gaze snapped to him.
The room froze.
Before Maxwell could speak, Ariella stepped in. Her tone gentle, her smile bright, her poise effortlessly softening the blow.
“Let us nae spoil such a lovely evening,” she said, her voice carrying just enough. “I am sure Archer meant nay disrespect.”
Archer swallowed.
Lyall frowned.
And Maxwell felt every man in the hall take note: Lady McNeill had just prevented a blood feud without raising her voice, without apologizing, without flinching.
Ariella glanced at Maxwell, a silent plea behind her eyes.
Let it go.Nae here. Nae now.Nae with them watching.
He inhaled through his nose.
Exhaled slowly.
And let it go.
Barely.
15
The castle felt different once the hall emptied.
The noise faded first, echoing laughter and clanking tankards bleeding into the old stones. Then the smoke thinned. Servants slipped away. Doors closed, hinges sighing. Somewhere above, a child cried and was shushed. A dog barked once in the yard, then settled.
The quiet after a night like this was never complete. It hummed. Like a bowstring unloosed but not yet slack.
Maxwell stood just outside the great hall, watching the last of the clansmen drift toward their bedrolls and chambers. Finley muttered something about “guard rotations and me poor feet” and took himself off toward the outer wall.
Maxwell stayed.
The great hearth at the end of the hall was banked now, no longer roaring, but still throwing gentler waves of heat. The long tables were mostly cleared. Candle stubs lingered in their holders, puddles of wax glowing softly.
Ariella remained by the fire.
She stood with one hand on the stone mantle, her face turned slightly toward the embers. Her gown had loosened a bit at the neckline over the course of the evening; a curl had escaped its pins and lay against her cheek. She looked not exhausted, exactly.
She had been brilliant tonight. Holding the hall together with smiles and careful words, deflecting Lyall’s barbs, turning Archer’s arrogance into something almost laughable. She had steadied Maxwell himself more than once with a single glance.
He felt that same steadiness tugging at him now as he watched her from the hall’s threshold.
Without quite deciding to, he walked toward her.
His footsteps echoed dully over the rushes. She turned as he approached, that small, unguarded smile already appearing, as if she expected him.
His chest tightened.
“Ye should be abed,” he said. “It has been a long day.”
