He didn’t want anyone to stand between him and Hazel. Not even Loch Maclean.
“Lady Liza is right.” Hazel rose to her feet then, smoothing her skirts. Her voice was low, with a husky note to it that made his gut clench. He didn’t want her to worry, for her to think he’d let her down. “We can’t do this without the clan-chief’s approval.”
“I'll go to him then,” he said roughly. “I’ll ride to Duart and get hispermission.”
God, just saying the word galled him. He didn’t want to request permission to be with the woman he loved—fromanyone.
“Craeg,” Hazel murmured. “Maybe, we should—”
“No.” Heart pounding, Craeg faced her. She’d gone rigid, almost as if she was poised to flee. Did she think he’d change his mind at the first obstacle, that he’d choose duty over her? “We will find our way through this, lass. Trust me.”
Panic coiled up then, catching him around the throat. Happiness was so close he could reach out and touch it. He wouldn’t have everything fall apart. He could bear this life—could bear putting away his sword and turning his back on glory and the freedom of youth—if Hazel was his.
She stared back, throat working.
Determination hardened in Craeg’s gut, even as his gaze never left Hazel’s. He wouldn’t let his future hang on his clan-chief’s word. And yet, he had to play this game. It was expected of him.
21: DEFIANCE
THE WIND TORE through the barmkin, whipping Hazel’s unbound hair across her face. She pushed it back with nervous fingers, watching as grooms led horses from the stables—stamping, snorting coursers with glossy summer coats. Ruadh was among them. The chestnut stallion tossed his head, side-stepping as Craeg checked his girth with deft, efficient movements.
Dressed in braies, tucked into high boots, a dark leather jerkin over his lèine, and a broadsword strapped across his back, the chieftain’s jaw was set with determination, his shoulders tense.
Around him, his warriors prepared for the journey to Duart Castle. Captain Black barked orders.Men checked weapons and provisions. The morning sun broke through the clouds scudding above, while dust devils spiraled across the wide courtyard.
Hazel stood near the tower steps, arms wrapped around herself. It wasn’t cold this morning, yet she shivered. Ever since she’d joined Craeg and his family for bannocks earlier, a stone had sat in her belly. Outside these walls, she was forthright and bold. Independent. But now, her fire was guttering.
Last night had been delicious … exciting. And as she’d lain in Craeg’s arms afterward, she’d felt at peace, in control of her destiny and ready to take the next bold step. But now, in the cold light of day, she regretted agreeing to all of this.
She knew nothing of clan politics, of alliances and betrayals, of the intricate dance of power that governed these people’s lives. And if she were honest, those things didn’t interest her.
And yet here she was—about to become a chieftain’s wife. She’d caused a broken betrothal, something which would likely drag Craeg into conflict with one of the most powerful men in the Isles.
Her throat tightened.What have I done?
“Hazel.”
Craeg’s voice cut through her spiraling thoughts. She looked up to find him standing before her, his dark eyes searching her face. “Walk with me.”
Swallowing, she nodded.
He took her hand, his palm warm and calloused against hers, and led her to the shadow of the armory. Out of earshot, yet not away from curious stares.
“Ye are worried,” he said quietly once they were alone.
She wanted to deny it, but that wasn’t her way. “Aye.”
“Ye think Loch won’t agree to our marriage?”
“And what if he doesn’t?” Her voice rose slightly. “What then? Will ye defy him? Will ye start a feud over me?”
“If I must.” His hands came up to frame her face, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Hazel, listen to me. I will not let ye down. No matter what happens at Duart … no matter what Loch says or Macquarie does … we will be together.”
Her pulse started to thump in her ears. He meant those words, but the weight of reality often crushed good intentions. He wasn’t thinking clearly—and neither had she been the night before. She wished now that she hadn’t given in so easily.
She had her own survival to think about too, her own happiness.
“Ye talk as if everything will work out,” she whispered. “But life isn’t that simple.”
