"And who is this gift truly for?" the laird asked. His tone was silky that sent chills racing down Leah's spine. "Me? Or me brother?"
Leah glanced at Sean, wondering what he had planned to do with her. It was clear by the beads of sweat on his brow he hadn't thought things through to completion.
"Laird," Sean said as if the laird's question was beneath him. "Every good ruler needs a healer. She's the best ye'll find in all of Scotland. She'll serve ye well, this I'm confident of."
Leah shivered. The way the laird leaned closer made her feel like prey under the gaze of a predator. A hint of ash and Sandalwood swirled around her, tickling her senses. Trying not to let her fear get the better of her, Leah held her gaze.
"Where have ye come from? Do ye have family?" the laird asked, his tone softening as the harshness in his voice faded.
"Me laird, is that really important?" Sean asked as he tried to step between the laird and Leah.
"Aye," the laird said. "Because I see it as such. Who are ye to tell me what is important and what isnae? Do ye ken the thoughts that plague me mind? I daenae think so."
The tension in the room mounted and made Leah feel as if she would be smoldered into the ground. The laird stepped forward, his imposing figure loomed over her.
"Seize him," the laird commanded.
"What? Me laird, what are ye doin'? Ye cannae be serious," Sean bemoaned as the guards ascended on them in a flash. Leah dropped her head hoping the guards wouldn’t plow her over as they charged Sean.
"What use do I have of a gift that comes against its will? Ye think ye can bring me just anyone? Away with ye," the laird snapped. Leah flinched at the cruel twist of his tone. Her heart raced as Sean pleaded for his life.
"I meant nay disrespect, ye asked to have the lasses come to ye. I daenae ken what I did wrong," Sean bellowed as the panic in his tone rose with an unsettling pitch. Leah didn't know whether she was pleased to have her captor get his just rewards. Or if her luck was shifting once again and she was about to jump into the fire.
Leah's breath hitched as she caught a dark glimmer of steel flash in the corner of her eye. She whipped around just as a knife slipped into Sean's side. The sight of his blood spilling on the floor made Leah freeze. The rusty scent swirled about her,making the room sway. She turned away from the scene, praying she had the strength to keep her lunch down.
"Get him out of here," the laird barked. Somewhere in the back of Leah's mind, she was aware of the laird by her side. But the room continued to spin, making it even more complicated to remain upright.
"No," Leah choked on the word as she tried to reach for Sean. Her voice was lost in the chaos and confusion of the situation. Turning to meet her gaze, Sean stretched his hand for her before being hauled into the back. Leah felt a pang of sympathy for Sean even though she despised the man.
Tingles starting from the top of her head raced down to her toes as she watched the laird circle her. Each step he took made her heart skip. There was no denying she was intimidated by the man. He towered over her, and Leah couldn't help but be somewhat impressed by his thick arms.
The laird stopped before her and folded his arms over his chest. Glaring at her, Leah wondered what was skipping through his mind. She noticed his lips twitching as if something had amused him, but he dared not break his stoic exterior.
"Stand," he commanded. Leah did as she was told for his tone left no room for defiance. With a firm yet gentile grip, he pulled Leah to her feet. Her heart skipped and jumped about as she pushed back the fear that was stealing the warmth of her.
"Yer hands," he said, nodding his head to her bound wrists. As he began to remove the restraints, Leah couldn't help but notice how soft and delicate he moved, almost as if she were stained glass and just as easy to break.
Swallowing hard, Leah tried not to let her imagination run wild, but she found it difficult with the laird's hand in hers. Studying him, Leah remained wary of the laird. The rumors that encircled him rattled in the back of her mind as she watched him step back once the restraints were gone.
"Say the word and I'll have that man hangin' in the moors."
As much as the thought tickled the darkest parts of her being, Leah shook her head. The laird's eyes narrowed as he folded his arms over his chest. She couldn't tell what he wanted to ask, only that the question remained trapped on the roof of his mouth.
"And why should I spare him? Is he nae yer captor?" the laird asked. "Do ye nae seek justice or revenge?"
Leah didn't know how to answer or even if she should. There was a reason people called Laird MacMillan the Mad Laird, and it went much further than his evil deeds. The man wasn't to be taken lightly. Still beneath his hard exterior, Leah couldn't help but notice a flicker of something that resembled innocence. Yet, the moment she saw it, the flicker was gone, and the moment had passed.
A tickle of dread raced down her spine as her gaze shifted away from admiring Killian's strong build to his icy glare. Killian'sbold expression caused her heart to flutter wildly. Leah couldn't help but swallow hard as her fate hung so precariously over the edge.
"Well? Why do ye nae answer me? Speak, for ye have some explainin' to do."
2
"Are ye mute? Speak."
Leah remained frozen under the grand carved archways of the Great Hall. The weight of the situation felt as if she had been pushed under the blade of a guillotine. The laird's presence loomed like a tempest, fierce and unyielding. Struggling with the words stuck to the roof of her mouth, Leah stared at the laird dumbfounded.
"Ye do understand the words that are comin' out of me mouth do ye nae? Then speak."
