"Casualties?"Ewan asked, though he already knew the answer. He'd insisted on minimal violence, and his men had followed those orders to the letter.
"Three injured on our side,none seriously. Two of MacMahon's guards killed when they refused to stand down, another handful wounded." Leon set down the parchment. "Could have been worse. Much worse, considerin' how badly they were prepared for us."
"MacMahon's gotten complacent,"Ewan said. "Thought his original raid would go unanswered, or that takin' his niece would be enough to satisfy me." His jaw clenched. "He thought wrong."
"Aye, he did."Leon leaned back in his chair, studying Ewan with that too-perceptive gaze. "Though I have to ask, are we still doin' this for the clan? Or has this become personal?"
Ewan knewwhat Leon was really asking.
Isthis about justice for the raid, or revenge for what MacMahon did to Maia?
"Does it matter?"Ewan asked instead of answering.
"It might.If yer judgment is clouded…"
"Me judgment is fine,"Ewan interrupted. "MacMahon attacked us first. Killed our men, burned our property, stole our livestock. Every action I've taken has been proportional response to his aggression."
"Proportional."Leon's lips twitched. "Is that what we're callin' it?"
"What would ye call it?"
"Obsessive, maybe. Excessive. Driven by somethin'more than just clan politics." Leon's expression sobered. "Ye're doin' this for her, Ewan. For Maia. And while I understand why—Christ knows the man deserves what's comin' to him—ye need to be careful. Ye're startin' to look like a man who'd go to war over a woman."
"And if I am?"The words came out more defensive than Ewan had intended.
"Then ye needto be honest about it. With yerself, with her, with the clan. Because right now, ye're pretendin' this is all strategy and politics when really?—"
A knockat the door interrupted whatever Leon had been about to say.
"I saidI wasnae to be disturbed," Ewan called out, irritation sharpening his tone.
The door opened anyway.
Laura Nicolson sweptinto the study like she owned it, her blonde hair perfect, her dress cut to display her figure to full advantage. She smiled at Ewan, a smile that was all calculation and no warmth.
"Laird McGill,"she purred. "I'm so glad I caught ye. We need to talk."
Ewan's handsclenched into fists beneath his desk. "Ye were told ye werenae welcome here, Lady Laura. I believe I made that abundantly clear."
"Oh, that."Laura waved a dismissive hand. "Surely ye dinnae mean it? Surely ye were just angry about whatever misunderstandin' occurred. But I'm willin' to forgive ye for that harshness. Willin' to give ye another chance."
Leon madea choking sound that might have been suppressed laughter.
"Another chance?"Ewan's voice was dangerously quiet. "Ye thinkIneed another chance? After ye insulted me betrothed, threatened me ward, and made it clear ye have nae respect for anyone but yerself?"
"That girl is nae yer betrothed,"Laura said, her smile turning sharp. "She's yer prisoner. Everyone kens it, even if they're too polite to say it. And we both ken ye're only keepin' her around for whatever political reasons. Surely ye daenae actuallycareabout her?"
Ewan stood slowly,his chair scraping back. "Get out."
"But Ewan…"
"Laird McGill,"he corrected coldly. "Ye've lost the privilege of usin' me given name. Now get out of me castle before I have ye thrown out."
Laura's expression shifted,confidence wavering as she finally seemed to realize he was serious. "I—I came here to offer meself to ye. To give ye what that plump little prisoner never could. Surely ye can see?—"
"I seethat ye're still here despite bein' told to leave," Ewan interrupted. "I see that ye're either incredibly stupid or incredibly arrogant. Possibly both."
"I'm beautiful,"Laura said, as if that explained everything. As if her physical appearance somehow gave her the right to insult Maia and proposition him in his own study. "I'm everythin' a laird could want in a wife. Elegant. Well-bred. Much more suitable than some captured MacMahon girl who?—"
