Elijah crossed his arms, and instead of giving Kieran a response, he said, “Ye could have approached openly.”
“I could have,” Kieran agreed. “But given the night I’m havin’, I preferred nae to be skewered on principle.”
A reluctant snort escaped Elijah before he could stop it. Some of the tension between them broke, and Kieran felt some of the weight drop from his shoulders.
“Fair,” Elijah said. Then, more seriously, “Lydia is safe with us. She’s safe with me men.”
“She willnae be if he reaches her,” Kieran said bluntly. “He wants the bairn she carries or her death. Either removes me heir. And I want to be there when he decided to attack.”
For a few moments, Elijah stood there in silence, clearly considering Kieran’s words. Then, he gave a short nod.
“Very well,” he said. “We’ll send a message to yer men, and then we ride back to the castle. I made a promise to me wife that I wouldnae let any harm come to Lydia, and now, I make the same promise to ye, me brother.”
Kieran inclined his head, his respect clear in the gesture. “Then we fight together.”
Elijah extended his arm. “Together.”
They clasped forearms, rain-soaked and unyielding.
“How many men does Sebastian have?” Elijah asked.
“More than he should,” Kieran replied. “Enough to cause damage if unchecked. But he believes me forces are larger than they are. I had me men trick him with fires along the hill.”
Elijah’s gaze sharpened. “Fires?”
“Aye. Makin’ it look like many more men are marchin’ than there are.”
A slow, dangerous smile spread across Elijah’s face. “Good. Then he’ll be occupied for a while.”
Thunder rolled overhead, as if the Highlands themselves approved. For the first time since Lydia had told him she was with child—since he had made the worst decision of his life—Kieran felt something steady his racing heart: hope.
“Thank ye,” he said simply.
Elijah clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Let us make sure our wives never have reason to fear men like Sebastian again.”
Kieran looked toward the darkened hills where rain blurred the line between earth and sky.
“I intend to,” he said.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
“They should have found shelter by now,” Lydia said, her voice nearly swallowed by the wind. “Elijah wouldnae march them through this if he could help it.”
The storm had wrapped Castle McMurphy in its fist. Rain lashed the tall windows of the drawing room, driven sideways by the wind, rattling the panes like impatient fingers. Thunder rolled low and heavy over the hills, not sharp but constant, as though the sky itself were grinding its teeth. Every so often, lightning bled pale light through the clouds, briefly painting the stone walls and embroidered tapestries in stark white before plunging them back into shadow.
Lydia sat rigidly on the edge of a cushioned chair, her hands folded over her stomach as if she could shield what lay under her ribs simply by will alone.
Across from her, Iris sat curled on the settee, her knees drawn up, her fingers worrying the fringe of a woolen shawl. She lookedcalm at first glance, composed, as she always did, but Lydia knew her too well. Her sister’s foot tapped softly against the rug, once, twice, then again, a quiet rhythm of unease.
Iris nodded though her eyes never left the dark window. “He kens these lands. He grew up ridin’ through worse storms than this.” Then she paused, her gaze darting to Lydia for a moment. “Still… I wish he were here.”
“So do I.” Lydia swallowed in a dry throat. “I keep thinkin’ of the borderlands. Of what they might find when the rain lifts.”
She didn’t finish the thought.
They both knew what waited out there—men with sharpened steel, ambition rotting at the core of it all, and Sebastian’s hunger for power. Lydia’s fingers tightened unconsciously, her palm pressing more firmly to her belly.
Iris noticed at once.
