“Maybe he’s seen reason,” Alexander said, though his tone suggested he didn’t fully believe it.
Helena sighed, her fingers tightening around the reins. “Reason’s never been me faither’s strongest suit.”
They dismounted as they reached the ruin, the horses snorting softly as the reins were tied to a sturdy tree nearby. The rain had grown steadier, a fine mist soaking their cloaks and dampening the mossy stones underfoot.
“This way,” Michael said, leading them toward a spot that still offered some semblance of shelter from the rain.
A crumbling archway opened into what might have once been a Great Hall, its ceiling long since fallen but its walls still standing firm. The space was dim and cool, the rain muted as it pattered against the stone.
Alexander stood near the entrance, his arms crossed as he scanned the area. The tension in his posture was unmistakable.
“Yer faither’s late,” he muttered, glancing at Helena. “He should’ve been here by now.”
Michael exchanged another glance with James. “Aye, he’s takin’ his time, that’s for sure. Maybe it’s his way of makin’ a statement?”
Helena, standing close enough to Alexander to feel his tension, sighed softly. “Me faither has always had a flair for the dramatics. If he’s going to come, it’s likely on purpose that he’s so late—tryin’ to make an entrance, nay doubt.”
Alexander grunted, his jaw tightening. “This isnae a stage for theatrics. It’s a bloody negotiation.”
Helena placed a hand on his arm, her touch gentle but firm. “He’ll come. Just give him a moment.”
Alexander’s piercing hazel eyes shifted to her, softening for only a second before returning to their sharp focus. He hated the unease building in his gut. Helena’s voiced doubts had gotten to him, and now a quiet voice in the back of his head was whispering that something wasn’t right.
A few minutes later, the crunch of boots on wet gravel echoed through the ruins. Alexander straightened immediately, his hand moving instinctively to the hilt of his sword. Michael and James followed suit, their eyes narrowing as figures emerged from the mist.
At the head of the group was Chester Fraser, his bulky frame unmistakable even in the rain. His balding head glistened with raindrops, and his crooked smile stretched wide as he entered the crumbled hall. But he wasn’t alone. Ten men followed him, their faces stern, their weapons visible at their sides.
Alexander’s blood ran cold, his stomach dropping like a stone. His body went rigid, his stance shifting instinctively into one of defense as he stepped slightly in front of Helena.
“What in the hell is this?” he growled, his voice low and dangerous.
Helena blinked in surprise, her confusion evident. “Faither?”
Chester opened his arms wide as though to greet her, seeming unbothered by the tension radiating from the MacAllister men.
“Helena, me darlin’ girl!” he greeted warmly, his voice carrying an unsettling cheerfulness. “Apologies for the delay. Had a bit of trouble preparin’ another surprise for ye and yer husband.”
Alexander’s eyes narrowed, his grip on his sword tightening. “Surprise?” he asked through gritted teeth. “And what’s the meaning of bringin’ more men than we agreed on?”
Helena stepped out from behind Alexander, her smile hesitant but hopeful. “Faither, what’s goin’ on? Ye did say only two men each.”
Chester chuckled—a low, oily sound that grated on Alexander’s nerves. “I thought it prudent to bring a few more. Ye never ken what dangers might lurk out here in these ruins.”
Michael shifted on his feet, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword. “Dangers, is it?” he drawled. “Seems like the only danger here is ye and yer men.”
“Careful now,” Chester said lightly, his tone mocking but not threatening. “I’m just a faither lookin’ out for his daughter’s safety. Surely ye can understand that, Alexander?”
Alexander didn’t answer, his sharp gaze flicking between Chester and his men. Every instinct screamed at him that this was no harmless oversight. His teeth clenched as Helenastepped closer to her father, her joy at seeing him clouding her judgment.
“I’ve missed ye, Faither,” she said softly, reaching out to hug him.
“Helena—” Alexander started, his voice sharp, but she didn’t stop.
She wrapped her arms around Chester, who returned her embrace with a too-wide grin. Alexander’s stomach twisted as he watched her, his frustration warring with his fear.
“Ye look well, girl,” Chester noted, his voice sickly sweet. “Marriage suits ye.”
“Thank ye, Faither,” Helena replied, stepping back with a warm smile. “But what’s this surprise ye mentioned?”
