He had come here to provoke, and he knew that this was the worst thing he could do, insult her, Arthur’s sister. If he could not get his revenge through Isobel, then, it seemed, he would do it through her.
“I willnae let blood be spilled over?—”
“Over yer honor?” Arthur snapped.
“Over something as silly as that!” she exclaimed, turning to him, her eyes pleading.
“He’s only doing this because he wants to get back at me,” Arthur growled, pointing his sword at Lachlan. “Look at him. He could never deny it.”
She turned to him. She did not know why, but there was a strange part of her that wanted him to argue the matter. To prove that this was not merely about Isobel, that Innes was nothing more than a pawn in his game.
But Laird MacFadden was suddenly upon them, his hands raised, careful to keep things from boiling over.
“Now, gentlemen, please,” he told them, dismissing them so that there was more room between them. “I willnae have any of this fight at one of my parties. Please, resolve yer differences.”
Innes took the chance to grab her brother’s arm and steer him away from a confrontation, which was so clearly what he intended to do. He could not take his eyes off Lachlan, glowering back at him as if he thought he might move into action at any instant.
But the moment they were alone, his eyes fell to Innes again, and he shook his head at once.
“If you think fer an instant that I’m going to let you leave here with that man?—”
“Please, Arthur, listen to me,” she begged him. “I ken how it seems. But you’ve already taken one thing from this man, and we cannae say what he might do if we allow this hurt to go any deeper.”
“So I’m to let him marry you, is that it?”
She did not reply. He cast his eyes skyward, the disgust obvious on his face.
“He’s only doing this because of Isobel!”
“Aye, because he loathes you, Arthur!” she exclaimed. “And if you humiliate him again like this, who knows what he might do? What he could be capable of?”
“You think this will sate him?”
“I think it will give you a chance,” her voice dropping precipitously. “I’ve seen how happy you are wi’ Isobel, and you deserve a chance.” She swallowed hard. “You deserve a chance to see where that takes you. To live without fear of him striking back.”
His face was drawn tight.
“I’ll send a guard to break you out,” he promised her. “He willnae come for our family again after that.”
But she shook her head once more. She could see it now, so clearly; if she did not do as Lachlan wanted, then her brother would walk into a trap that would cost him his life. He deserved to be happy; he was the one who would continue the family name anyway, not her. It would have been selfish for her to ask for anything else from him, not when she knew she could diffuse the terror that the mad Laird might rain down upon him if she did not agree to his proposal.
“It has to be this way,” she told him, drawing all the courage into her voice as she smiled at him.
She was not sure it was an entirely convincing one, but, with the way he was looking at her in that moment, she had to try.
“If my leaving keeps you alive, then so be it. I willnae fight it.”
He stared at her for another instant, and she looked back at him, trying to commit his face to memory.
“You raised me, Arthur,” she reminded him, lifting a hand to squeeze his shoulder. “You deserve a chance to be happy.”
Something in him seemed to give, and he finally pulled her into a tight, fierce hug. The kind of hug that felt distinctly like a goodbye, though she did her best not to ponder too long on it. She drew back from him, hardly daring to look at him again, knowing that to do so would be to risk her resolve.
She strode back towards the hall. Laird MacFadden was there in the doorway, his brow furrowed, clearly concerned that things might have spun too far out of his control.
“Where is Laird Fraser?” she asked, lifting her chin, mustering all the pride she was able. “I believe I am to leave with him tonight.”
“He’s… waiting in the courtyard,” MacFadden explained, his voice tinged with shock.
