Then, he shut the door behind him, leaving the sisters standing together in a room that no longer felt safe. The door had barely clicked shut behind him before the silence in the drawing room changed. It grew thicker, weighted—not the comfortable hush that usually filled the halls, but something taut and stretched thin, like a string drawn too tight.
The fire crackled softly in the hearth, sparks spitting as if in warning. Outside, wind pressed against the tall windows, rattling them in their frames. The storm rolling over the hills deepened the shadows in every corner of the room.
Iris crossed the space in three swift steps and wrapped her arms around Lydia. The warmth of her embrace contrasted painfully with the cold growing in Lydia’s chest, and she welcomed the embrace, falling into it as if her legs could hardly support her.
“Lydia,” Iris murmured, stroking her back, “ye’re tremblin’.”
Lydia hadn’t realized it—her hands, her breath, her whole body was shaking with the sudden force of her dread. She pulled away, just far enough to search her sister’s face, her eyes burning.
“Iris… if this is about me—” Her voice cracked, but she drew in a sharp breath and forced herself to speak. “If Sebastian sent those men… if he comes here, then it’s me fault.”
Iris’s brows snapped together, and she shook her head vehemently, pulling back from Lydia to look her in the eye. “Lydia… nay. I daenae even want ye to think such a thing.”
“It is.” Lydia pressed a hand to her sternum, trying to steady the rising panic. “If Elijah rides into danger, it’s because of me. If those troops attack, it’s because Sebastian wants to hurt me. I’m the reason there’s risk at the borderlands. I’m the reason… I’m the reason this house may come under threat. If anythin’ happens to ye or Elijah?—”
Iris caught her face between both palms, her touch firm and grounding. “Stop it. Right now.”
Lydia blinked, stunned into silence by the sudden steel in her sister’s voice.
Iris continued, tone low and fierce. “Nae a single thing that man does is yer fault. His actions are his own, and he will bear the consequences of them. Elijah kens what he’s doing. He’s the Laird here, and he’s trained for this. It’s nae yer job to shield us from what’s happenin’.”
“But I?—”
“But nothin’,” Iris said, shaking her head. “Ye listen to me, Lydia. None of this blame belongs to ye. Nae one sliver of it.”
Lydia’s throat tightened painfully. Tears pricked hot behind her eyes, and she tried her best not to shed them; she had already worried her sister enough.
“But if they come here lookin’ for me?—”
“They willnae get close.” Iris pulled her into her arms again, holding her tight. “This keep is safer than any other place in the Highlands. And Elijah will have riders ready before those men so much as cross the ridge.”
Lydia let herself lean into her sister, inhaling the familiar scent of lavender and hearth smoke clinging to Iris’s hair. For a moment she felt small—like they were children again, and Iris was shielding her from a nightmare.
Her hand drifted to her abdomen, thumb brushing slowly over the fabric of her gown. Iris felt the shift and gently laid her own hand atop Lydia’s.
“All ye have to worry about,” Iris whispered, “is the health of yer bairn. Elijah will take care of everythin’ else. He’ll protect his people, protect this home… protect ye.”
“But what if Sebastian reaches the keep before Elijah returns? What if?—”
“He willnae,” Iris said firmly. “Ye are nae alone here, Lydia. We have guards, walls, allies… and Elijah’s scouts already watchin’ the ridges. Nae one will get past them without him knowin’. And once Elijah learns what’s truly happenin’, he’ll send for Kieran immediately.”
It was true. Even if Kieran didn’t yet know, even if Sebastian had managed to rally the troops loyal to him without anyone finding out, then Elijah would surely send word once he knew if it was truly Sebastian and if he confirmed he was going to attack.
But even if he came, there was something still unresolved between them—something she would have to face, sooner or later.
“What if I cannae forgive him,” Lydia whispered, her voice trembling, “even if he comes?”
Iris cupped her cheek gently. “Then daenae. Love and forgiveness arenae the same thing. You owe him nothin’ he hasnae earned.”
Lydia nodded, though the motion was slow and heavy. Iris rocked them both gently as the storm outside intensified, the wind howling across the keep’s stone walls, and for a long moment, Lydia let herself sink into the warmth, the closeness, and the comfort of her sister’s presence.
But under it all, a cold certainty was spreading through her chest—if Sebastian truly was coming for her, time was running thin, and the man she needed most might not reach her in time to stop him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Kieran reined his mare to a halt at the crest of the last rise before the valley, his chest heaving from hours of brutal riding. Frosted breath steamed around the horse’s muzzle, rising into the dim, slate–colored morning like smoke.
Below, nestled against the curve of McMurphy lands, was the camp.
