"Am I? Because it looked like ye were both daein' yer best nae tae stare at each other." Leo's grin turned knowing. "She's bonnie, that one. Sharp tongue, fire in her eyes, both of them. And she's nae afraid tae speak her mind, even when she probably should be."
Harald thought of Enya dripping pond water and still managing to trade barbs with him.
Thought of the way she'd stood her ground despite shaking from cold and fear. Thought of her eyes—one brown, one green, both absolutely fearless when they met his.
"She's dangerous," he muttered.
"Aye," Leo agreed cheerfully. "Tae yer composure, at least. When's the last time a woman made ye forget yerself enough tae actually smile?"
"I didnae smile."
"Ye did. By the pond. I saw it." Leo was enjoying this far too much. "The mighty Hawk of Lewis, brought low by a lass who called his boots dear."
"She was mockin' me."
"She was banterin’ with ye." Leo's expression turned more serious. "Look, I ken this marriage is nae what ye wanted. I ken havin' the Crown breathin' down yer neck makes yer teeth ache. But that lass has had just as rough a time as ye have, ifnae worse. Maybe give her a chance before ye decide she's the enemy."
Harald wanted to argue. Wanted to point out all the reasons why trust was a liability, why opening himself up to anyone—especially someone with family ties to the Highlands—was dangerous.
But he couldn't quite silence the memory of Enya's voice asking about the wounded guards.
The genuine concern in her eyes. The way she'd stood dripping and freezing but still demanded answers instead of cowering.
"Send the healer to her," he said instead. “After her escorts that were wounded.
"Aye, me laird. That cut on her jaw needs tendin'." Leo paused.
"Have extra blankets and wine sent tae her chamber.”
“Ye made certain Moira herself attended her, nae one of the younger maids."
"She's a guest in me home. It's only proper."
"It's protective," Leo corrected. "Ye're already protective of her, Harald. Might as well admit it."
"I barely ken the woman."
"Ye ken her enough to nearly take that brigand's head off when ye saw he'd struck her." Leo's voice was quiet now. "I've fought beside ye fer ten years. I've never seen ye that angry that quickly."
Harald's hands curled into fists on the desk.
He remembered the moment he'd seen the blood on Enya's face, the bruise forming on her jaw. Remembered the cold fury that had swept through him, the absolute certainty that whoever had hurt her would pay for it.
He'd killed the man quickly. Cleanly. It was more mercy than the bastard deserved.
"She's meant tae be me wife," Harald said finally. "I'll nae have anyone thinkin' they can put hands on her without consequence."
"See? Protective." Leo stood, stretching. "Are ye comin' tae the hall, or are ye goin' tae hide in here all night?"
"I'm nae hidin'."
"Ye're absolutely hidin'. While the king's envoy is probably drinkin' all yer good wine and complainin' about the accommodations."
Leo headed for the door, then paused. "And Harald? That lass didnae just look at ye like ye were a monster. She also looked at ye like ye were the first person who's ever really seen her. Might want tae think about that."
He left before Harald could respond, leaving him alone with the maps and the mess of thoughts he couldn't quite untangle.
Leo was wrong. He had to be.
