Color rose in her cheeks. "I was terrified I'd say something foolish."
"Ye didnae. Ye were perfect." He reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "And Kenina likes ye, I could tell. That matters."
"She's remarkable. They both are." Mhairi's expression grew thoughtful. "Seein’ them taegether, the way they work as a unit... that's what I want. That kind of partnership."
"Is it?" Alpin's voice had gone rough.
"Aye." Her eyes met his, steady and sure. "And I think... I think we're buildin’ something like that. Ye and I."
His heart slammed against his ribs. "Aye. I think we are too."
The footsteps in the corridor grew closer. Alpin stepped back fully this time, putting appropriate distance between them, and moved to open the door.
They emerged into the corridor looking composed, professional, like they'd simply been discussing castle business. But as they walked back toward the main hall, their hands brushed occasionally, and each time Alpin felt that connection spark between them.
By the time they rejoined Peadar and Kenina in the solar, they looked like nothing more than laird and guest—standing side by side, attentive and engaged in the continuing discussions of strategy and alliances.
But Kenina's knowing glance told Alpin she wasn't fooled for a moment.
And from the small smile playing at her lips, she approved.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
The wine was terrible.
Henry Ashcombe, Duke of Ravenscar, set down his goblet with barely concealed distaste and regarded the man across the table with thinly veiled contempt.
Laird Aodh Graham was many things—brutal, opportunistic, effective—but civilized was not among them.
The chamber where they sat was a perfect reflection of its owner. Dark wood furniture that had seen better decades, a fireplace that smoked more than it should, walls adorned with weapons rather than tapestries. It smelled of damp stone and unwashed dogs, despite the hunting hounds having been banished when Ashcombe arrived.
"More wine, Yer Grace?" Graham asked, already reaching for the bottle.
"No." Ashcombe picked up the latest report instead, scanning the neat lines of text with growing irritation. "Tell me again how the girl remains beyond our reach."
Graham's scarred face darkened. "MacDougal's increased his patrols threefold. Every road leadin’ tae his castle is bein’ watched. The village where she works with the healer has guards posted at all times. And after our men tried tae take her two weeks ago?—"
"Your men failed two weeks ago," Ashcombe corrected coldly. "Three trained soldiers couldn't manage one girl? It's pathetic."
"They were outnumbered. MacDougal himself was there, and half a dozen of his warriors appeared within minutes." Graham shifted uncomfortably. "The laird's protectin’ her like she's precious cargo."
"She is precious cargo. She's mine. Legally purchased, witnessed, documented." Ashcombe set down the report and leaned back in his chair. "And yet she remains in his castle, learning to be a bloody healer, while I'm reduced tae sitting in this godforsaken country drinking wine that tastes like vinegar."
"We could try again. Send more men, better men."
"No." Ashcombe's voice was sharp. "We've tried direct approaches twice now. Both times we've failed, and both times we've given MacDougal more reason to tighten his defenses. We need a different strategy."
Graham's eyes narrowed. "What kind of strategy?"
Ashcombe rose and moved to the window, looking out over Graham's lands. Even in the fading light, he could see the decay—poorly maintained walls, fields that should have been harvested weeks ago, villages that looked half-abandoned. Graham was losing his grip on his own territory, and everyone could see it.
Which made him desperate. And desperate men were useful.
"Tell me about your auction business," Ashcombe said. "How has it been affected by recent events?"
"Badly." Graham didn't bother hiding his bitterness. "Word's spread about MacDougal interferin’, about women being rescued. Buyers are nervous, askin’ too many questions. I've had tae cancel two auctions because I couldnae guarantee the merchandise would be sold."
Merchandise.
