Page 49 of Wicked Kilted Highlander

"Please, h-husband," she murmured, leaning into him, playing the dutiful wife once more. "Let us nae quarrel so."

Laird MacLean was watching and Darragh would not give him another reason to disapprove. With effort, he relaxed his stance and curved an arm around Lara's waist. She smiled, a wan little thing, and rested her head on his shoulder. The perfect picture of marital bliss. If only it were real, and he was not afraid every second that his happy bubble could burst.

Gregor was still watching them, eyes narrowed. Darragh tucked Lara closer against him and met the other man's gaze squarely, daring him to question it. To question anything.

Gregor's jaw tightened. But then Elsie came out of nowhere, breaking the tension, and called his name, making him turn away with a frown.

The confrontation was over. For now.

Darragh stroked a hand down Lara's back, a possessive gesture meant for any watching eyes. And waited for the next challenge.

Laird MacLean cleared his throat meaningfully, and Darragh looked up to find the older man watching him, gaze heavy with disapproval.

"A word, Darragh?" he asked, jerking his head toward the door.

Darragh glanced at Lara, who blinked up at him with wide eyes.

"Go on," she said softly, slipping from his embrace. She smiled, tremulous but earnest. "I shall be here with my sister."

Darragh hesitated, torn. But this was her father, and Darragh could deny the man nothing. Not in those circumstances, and not if he wanted to stay there with Lara. With a curt nod, he followed Harris from the room, and the door closed behind them, muffling the sounds of laughter and conversation.

They stood alone in the dimly lit corridor. Darragh crossed his arms over his chest, jaw clenching as he waited for the lecture he was sure would come.

But Laird MacLean merely studied him for a long moment, eyes shadowed with things unsaid. He then placed a hand on his shoulder. Darragh flinched at the contact, then forced himself to relax.

"She's yer wife, and I can see ye care for her deeply."

The lie tasted bitter on Darragh's tongue then. But at least it was only half a lie because he indeed would destroy anyone who tried to hurt her. "Aye," he said, hollowly. "I dae."

Harris studied him a moment longer. Then he sighed and gave Darragh's shoulder a gentle squeeze.

"Very well," he said, resignation in his tone. "But this disnae mean I’ll accept the way ye speak tae Elsie’s betrothed. Yer nae in a position to create problems, Darragh, it’s enough I let ye sleep in my daughter’s chambers until we’ve decided what tae dae with the council,” he looked at Darragh for a moment too long as if fighting with the words, “but if ye have need of anything—or wish to speak of what haunts ye—I hope ye’ll come tae me instead of creating a scene like before. I can help ye."

The offer almost undid him. Darragh looked away, blinking hard against the sting in his eyes. "Thank ye," he said, roughly.

Harris nodded and released his grip. With that, he left Darragh alone in the corridor. He drew a deep, shuddering breath and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes.

There were still enemies to face inside. Enemies, and lies, and one lass with eyes like the sky.