Page 37 of Wicked Kilted Highlander

CHAPTERFIFTEEN

The following morning, the first rays of sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow on Lara's face. She stirred in her sleep, her dreams dissipating as consciousness slowly returned. Just as she began to drift off again, a sudden weight pressed down on her chest, startling her awake.

"Ye slept long enough," Elsie declared, grinning mischievously as she sat atop her sister. "'Tis time for breakfast."

"Och, ye wee imp!" Lara laughed, swatting playfully at her sister while attempting to catch her breath. With a final shove, she managed to dislodge Elsie from her perch and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Together, after a series of hugs and Elsie’s tears at seeing her sister again, the girls made their way to the dining room, where the scent of freshly baked bread and sizzling meat wafted through the air.

Quinn was already seated at the table, his brow furrowed as he stared intently at his plate. He glanced up as they entered, his expression softening momentarily before the familiar seriousness returned.

"Quinn," Lara began, hesitating as she took her seat, "I ken ye're worried about me. I appreciate it, truly, but Darragh hasnae enchanted me. He helped me, and I have seen his pure soul despite the MacDonald tartan he wears."

"Perhaps so," Quinn grumbled, his gaze flickering between Lara and Elsie. "But it disnae change the fact that ye lied fer him, putting yerself at risk."

"Sometimes, situations like these demands sacrifices," Lara countered softly, her eyes meeting Quinn's steady gaze. "And I'm willing tae make them fer Darragh."

"Situations like what, Lara? I was sure ye’d fallen for him…" Quinn snorted, leaning back in his chair with a wry smile.

Lara's cheeks flushed a deep shade of pink as she spluttered indignantly, "Och, ye great oaf! I'll have ye ken—"

"Save it," Quinn interrupted, his grin widening. "I'm only teasing ye, sister. But truly, Lara, promise me ye'll be careful."

"Fine, I promise," Lara sighed, her heart swelling with gratitude for her brother's concern.

"Good," Quinn nodded, satisfied. Elsie giggled and chimed in, "Now that we're all together again, let's eat before the food gets cold!"

As they tucked into their meal, the warmth of family love enveloped them like a comforting embrace.

The MacLean siblings enjoyed their first breakfast all together in more than six months. Lara's cheeks still burned with the heat of embarrassment from Quinn's teasing, so she tried to focus on the delicious meal of freshly baked bannocks and bacon before her.

"Ye ken, Lara," Quinn said, studying her flushed face with a raised eyebrow, "if ye blush like that in front of Faither, he'll ken right away that something's amiss."

"Och, dinnae fash yerself about me, brother. I can handle Faither just fine," Lara retorted, trying to regain her composure. She couldn't help but feel a flutter of anxiety at the thought of facing Harris MacLean, however. The man was known for his keen instincts and sharp mind, traits that had served him well as the laird of their clan.

Just as Lara steeled herself to meet her father's scrutiny, the dining room door swung open, revealing Gil, followed by Harris. The laird, a towering figure with graying hair and a stern visage, surveyed the scene with piercing blue eyes.

"Ah, there ye are, lass," Harris said, striding over to stand beside Lara. "I've been meaning tae have a word with ye about this… delicate matter." He glanced at Elsie and Quinn, who both fell silent, their eyes wide and expectant.

"Faither, I—" Lara began, her voice shaking slightly.

"Enough," Harris interrupted, his tone firm but not unkind. "I'll summon the clan healer tae confirm yer… condition." His gaze softened ever so slightly, betraying a hint of concern beneath the stern façade.

"Thank ye, Faither," Lara whispered, relief mingling with fear in her heart. Would the healer be able to tell she was lying, or could he somehow be convinced into confirming her false condition? The thought consumed her as she stared down at the half-eaten breakfast on her plate, appetite forgotten.

"Until then," Harris continued, "I expect ye tae behave yerself and stay out of trouble. And ye, Quinn," he added, turning to his son, "keep an eye on yer sister."

"Of course, Faither," Quinn replied.

Lara's heart pounded as she fiddled with the frayed edge of her shawl, the fabric rough beneath her fingertips. The room was filled with tension, and a heavy silence fell. Her father's words echoed in her ears, the weight of their implications settling heavily on her shoulders.

Harris spoke, his voice grave and his eyes locked onto Lara's worried countenance. "The healer, however, is currently away, helping another clan after an attack. He willnae be available fer a week."

A week. A week to prepare herself for whatever consequences might come from the lie. A week to find a way to protect Darragh without losing everything. Lara clenched her fists, nails digging into her palms as she forced herself to nod at her father's words.

"Until then," Harris continued, his stern expression never faltering, "Darragh will be taken out of the dungeon and placed under castle arrest."

"Castle arrest?" Quinn questioned, his brow furrowing in concern. Lara could tell he shared her apprehension, though his loyalty to their father kept him from voicing it outright.

"Aye," Harris confirmed, his gaze never leaving Lara's face. "He'll remain within the castle walls, under constant watch. Nay more conspiring with outsiders or causing trouble for this family."