“Forgive us, laird, we were only doing what we thought best for ye and the clan.”
Alex made a scoffing sound, sickened by their excuse. “Jamie. Marcus. Take these men below. Maybe a few nights in a bloody cell will open their eyes.”
“Aye, Alex.” Jamie joined him on the platform, followed by several other guards.
Then Alex turned to the stunned crowd. “I count at least fifty of ye. Fifty heads to decorate the spikes I’ll plant along the southern wall of this keep to warn any would-be rebels of the price they’d pay for hurting a hair upon Lady Keely’s head.”
The throng instantly dispersed, leaving only a handful of guards below, and Alex and Keely on the stage. Unsure what to do, Keely gazed up at him. His shoulder-length, blond hair whipped in the wind. “Thank ye.”
“Doona be too quick to thank me, Lady Keely.” He scooped her into his arms and carried her down the stairs. “Seems I canna let ye go. Though our intimate bond is forever severed, I canna risk yer life. Until I can arrange for ye to be safely delivered to yer father’s house, ye will remain here.”
When he kept walking with her in his arms, Keely wiggled uncomfortably. “Put me down.”
He ignored her demand and kept moving.
“Alexander MacKay!”
He didn’t even look at her.
“Laird MacKay, please set me on my feet, I am capable of walking. And if ye would be so kind as to cut my hands free…”
His lips twitched as he finally met her gaze. “Ye’re in no position to make demands, lass.”
She couldn’t believe it. Why would he prefer carrying her over letting her walk? And why wouldn’t he untie her hands?
“If yer wondering why I choose to carry ye inside, tis a show of protection for all to witness. As for the hands, lass, I’ll free ye when I’m convinced ye’ll stay where I tell ye to.”
*
Alex didn’t missthe disapproving looks of his clan as he hurried through the great hall. Apparently, they hadn’t forgiven Keely for what she’d done to him or John. Such shame and humiliation never faded. He knew it all too well, and now that she was in his custody, Alex’s imagination was getting the best of him by formulating a hundred different ways he could make her suffer for wounding him so deeply.
Shuffling up the stairs with her snugly in his arms, he arrived at the bedchamber he’d chosen for her. He set her down, and Keely stared at him, a peculiar look on her face.
“Are ye unwell, lass?” He’d not considered her feelings before, how hopeless she must have felt with Angus.
She shook her head. “Why this bedchamber?”
He opened the door, and she followed him inside. “Tis the most comfortable in the keep, my…”
“Yer mother’s room. I remember. How long did I occupy this chamber?” She wandered to the hearth, running her fingers over the tapestry hanging above it. “The last thing yer mother ever made. Tis beautiful, Alex.” She turned around and offered a sad smile. “It captures the lushness of Clan MacKay lands—the heather-strewn fields, the north wall of the keep, even the loch.”
“Aye,” Alex agreed, leaning against the closed door, his arms folded over his chest. “My ma loved this place.”
“I’m sorry, Alex. I dinna mean to dredge up old memories.”
He slowly smiled at her, chuckling sarcastically. “Nay? Yer return makes me doubt that very much.” She was a walking, talking bad memory, the kind that would crush a weaker man’s spirit. But Alex wasn’t defenseless anymore—that’s what he kept telling himself.
She fell silent and turned back to the hearth. “I doona blame ye for being suspicious. My heart is truly broken over everything that’s happened—especially John’s death.”
“Is it?” Why would she care whether his brother lived or died? Whether his clan thrived or failed? She fled Clan MacKay in the middle of the night, taking his heart and John’s with her.
“What do ye mean?”
“Are ye a spy for the Sutherlands?”
She squinted at him, her full lips forming a hard line. “The Earl of Sutherland is an intelligent man, Alex. Why would he send me to do his bidding when he has hundreds of men at his disposal?”
“I told ye I’d ask the questions, lass.”
