The man swallowed hard under the sudden weight of his gaze. “Many witnessed the… disagreement between ye and the Lady McGuire.” His voice trembled slightly. “Some among the clan fear the tension may hinder the matter of producing an heir.”
For a moment, Ian said nothing.
Then he rose from his chair.
The movement was slow, deliberate, and filled with barely restrained fury. His height alone cast a long shadow across the table as he leaned forward slightly. The councilman shrank back instinctively beneath his stare.
“Ye dare speak of me wife in this manner?” Ian said softly.
The words were calm, yet the danger within them was unmistakable.
“Me Laird, I meant no offense…” the man stammered quickly.
“Ye dare to judge me marriage from a single moment at supper, and I willnae allow that,” Ian’s voice rose now, echoing against the stone walls. “Ye sit here counting heirs like merchants tallying coin while the safety of the clan stands threatened.”
The councilman’s face had gone pale in fear.
“I…I only meant the clan’s concerns…” he tried again weakly.
Ian leaned closer across the table, his eyes blazing with anger. “The clan’s concerns are me responsibility,” he growled. “Not fodder for gossip among old men.”
The councilman shrank visibly beneath the rebuke. “Forgive me, me Laird,” he said quickly, his voice trembling. “I spoke out of turn.”
Silence hung heavily over the chamber.
George cleared his throat uneasily. “Perhaps we should return to the matter of the patrols…”
But Ian had already gone rigid. “I’ve heard enough for one morning.”
His anger still burned fiercely in his chest. The thought of the council whispering about Arianna, speculating about theirmarriage like idle gossips, filled him with cold fury. Without another word, he shoved his chair back from the table. The legs of the chair scraped harshly across the stone floor.
“Me Laird…” George began cautiously.
Ian ignored him.
He turned and strode toward the chamber doors with long, furious steps. Flynn pushed away from the wall and followed behind him without a word. The councilmen watched in uneasy silence as their laird flung the doors open.
Cool air rushed in from the corridor beyond.
Ian stepped through without looking back.
The heavy doors slammed shut behind him with a resounding boom that echoed through the council chamber. Outside in the corridor, Ian paused only long enough to drag a sharp breath into his lungs. His anger still pulsed hot beneath his skin.
Flynn approached cautiously beside him. “Well,” Flynn muttered, “that went about as poorly as expected. What can I do, me Laird?”
Ian shot him a sharp look, though some of the fury had begun to drain from his expression. “Those fools think me wife is their concern,” he said bitterly.
“The clan’s future willnae improve by harassin' Arianna,” he said firmly.
Flynn studied him quietly for a moment. “Aye,” he said slowly, “but the council will keep pressin' the matter because of the agreement.”
Ian looked away, down the long corridor.
The thought of Arianna’s wounded expression from the night before returned unbidden to his mind. He had seen the hurt in her eyes even through her anger. That memory now twisted uneasily in his chest.
“The agreement… I’ll handle it,” he muttered.
Ian left Flynn standing in the corridor and strode down the long passage toward the steward’s study.
