Kaden’s dark head swiveled toward her, scanning her once. But it didn’t seem so much like he was doing anything other than ensuring that she was unharmed and in one piece. She didn’t envy the drunken bastard when Kaden’s head swiveled back toward him.
He lifted his fist and swung it so quickly that Emily would have missed it, were it not for the sharpcrackof bone shattering and the drunken Laird hitting the stone before crumbling.
“Do ye understand now, or do I need to repeat meself?”
The drunken Laird sneered, his lip curled in disgust, but he said not a single word as he scrambled off, unable to straighten up until he tumbled inside the keep to lick his wounds.
Kaden turned, appraising her once more, and Emily spoke before she could think about the fact that he hadn’t asked her anything. “I’m all right.”
The slight nod that he gave her was almost imperceptible.
He flexed the fingers of the hand he had punched the drunken Laird with, seeming wholly unaware that one of his knuckles was split and bleeding. Couldn’t he feel the pain? He certainly gave no sign of it if he could.
“Thank ye, but I almost had it,” she teased, hoping that he would take the cue to lighten the mood.
He didn’t seem at all amused by her words, but the tension between his eyebrows did seem to soften.
A beat passed, and the tension broke, and the soft chuckle that escaped him felt akin to seeing a kelpie walking right out of the water.
“I was just upset that somebody was attempting to ruin me sister’s cèilidh,” he answered.
She couldn’t help but laugh, too.
It was so surreal, feeling the thrill still coursing through her veins so strongly and the gravity of the situation… and having the coldest-looking man that she had ever seen making jokes with her.
“How many people in that hall would be surprised to hear that ye’re capable of laughing?” she quipped, watching his reaction carefully. “I reckon that might have something to do with the fact that the drunken Laird was trembling at the sight of ye?”
Kaden’s smile softened, taking on an almost sad quality. It seemed that he was allergic to answering her questions because he ignored them. Instead, he chose to hold out his hand to her.
“Allow me to introduce meself properly. Kaden MacLeod, Laird Muir.”
She was stunned and barely even felt the gentle brush of his lips against the back of her hand. Of course, she happened to meet the one man with a reputation worse than her own.
It certainly explained why she hadn’t seen him before.
Rumors swirled around him about how he murdered as quickly as looking at someone, about how he leaned more toward violence than conversation, and avoided people as if they had a plague.
She glanced up at the stone walls around them, and it seemed to make sense that he had come down for his sister’s event. No doubt, before she had made him come out here to save her, he had been counting down the minutes to leave.
But it did put their dance into a whole new perspective.
“Emily Reid,” she answered, even if it was after a beat too long. “Thank ye, again.”
Without knowing what else to do, she turned to leave the balcony, the chill and gravity of what had almost happened to her settling into her bones.
Kaden shook his head. “That willnae do,” he said, with what could only be a smirk.
Emily paused. “Excuse me?”
“Ye owe me now,” Kaden answered with a wink, then disappeared into the crowd while she was still reeling.
5
“The only thing that I am interested in hearing is whose idea it was to conspire behind me back.”
Kaden ran his finger along the brim of his wine glass idly as he sat beside the warm fire in the meeting room. Just adjacent to his study, it was the only space that was large enough to fit every member of his council.
They had spent the better part of the morning hearing about this and that, and for most of it, the conversations had merely brushed past him. He chose not to focus on them, as his mind kept floating back to last night and the few interactions that he had had with Emily.
