Jacob was stunned. “Elena? Nae—Jesu, nae,” he said at once, the denial instinctive and absolute. Elena was an innocent, and could not have known the storm she was stirring when she touched him. “It was me.”
Liam studied him, something doubtful flickering in his eyes, though Jacob could not fathom why he would think his daughter capable of such recklessness. Then, just as unexpectedly, Liam asked, “Would ye have told me, had ye not been spied upon?”
Jacob opened his mouth to give an immediate answer—and stopped. Having known her kiss, could he truly have stood aside and watched her wed another man?
“I canna say, sir,” he admitted at last.
Liam nodded and turned slightly toward Gabriel. “Ye ken the matter,” Liam said, which Jacob knew was sometimes his way for asking for input.
Gabriel gave a short nod. “Aye. Best to get ahead of it, ere it grows legs of its own.”
Liam faced Jacob again and exhaled through his nose, the sound sharp but controlled. “We’ll take it to the hall,” he decided promptly. “I’ll speak to Lord Hamilton myself. I want to see his face when he hears it—what he excuses, what he demands, and what he fears losing.” He paused, then added, “After that, we’ll decide what must be done.”
Jacob inclined his head. “Aye, sir.”
Liam’s expression remained stern, but there was no fury in it now, only resolve. Jacob couldn’t decide if he’d glimpsed any fury at all.
“Ye’ll stand at my side and hold yer tongue, nae matter what is said.”
Jacob accepted the edict without protest. “Aye, sir.”
The three of them turned and set off toward the keep, their boots falling into rhythm across the fields.
Gabriel cast a sideways glance at his son. “Ye’ve had better ideas, lad,” he said, the rebuke mild, almost fond despite the circumstances.
Jacob still had the sense that Liam MacTavish had not yet spent the full measure of his displeasure, but he risked a reply all the same. “’Tis only the timing that was off, by my reckoning, by several years.”
A few paces ahead, Liam turned, fixing Jacob with a feral glare that would have withered a lesser man, but Jacob did not twitch, knowing he had only spoken the truth finally.
Chapter Fifteen
The great hall fell quiet as Liam MacTavish entered it.
He crossed the threshold with Gabriel Jamison at his side and Jacob a pace behind them, the three moving together down the long stretch of flagstone as heads turned and conversations thinned into watchful silence. Banners lined the wall and lords and lairds shoulder to shoulder in conversation. The air was thick with expectation, so that it could not be misunderstood that something had already been set in motion.
At the high table, Lord Hamilton awaited their approach, his posture rigid with affront. Kinnard lingered close at his elbow, positioned tellingly, one hand on the table as he bent low to Lord Hamilton’s ear. Thomas stood at his father’s side, his expression raw and unsettled, the news fresh, and met Jacob’s gaze squarely. Jacob did not look away, but then neither did he offer any sign of challenge or submission.
Liam stopped at a respectful distance, and Gabriel and Jacob followed suit. The hall went unnaturally quiet.
“This is a sorry way to honor a betrothal, MacTavish,” Hamilton said, his voice carrying. “To hear of this indiscretion, your daughter discovered in such a position—with another man—and in the light of day.”
A faint stir moved through the benches. Highlanders listened closely when accusations were made against one of their own.
Liam nodded and held Hamilton’s narrow-eyed gaze. He neither bristled nor deflected. “'Twas a kiss,” he said evenly. “And nae more.”
