Page 7 of Wicked Kilted Highlander

Lara's eyes darted up, her gaze wary once more, but he saw the hint of pride.

"I dinnae wish tae impose, especially all ye’ve done fer me…"

"It's nae trouble. There’s plenty here."

Lara's stomach growled, and she winced.

"In that case, I wouldnae wish tae waste it." The wooden bowl scraped against the rough table as she pushed it towards him. He ladled out some more stew and passed the bowl back to her. As he handed it to her, he couldn't help but admire her newfound radiance—the way the lamplight illuminated the rich, mahogany tints of her long tresses, her white flawless skin, the pink rosebud of her lips as she spooned in the stew, and the way her blue eyes sparkled with life despite what she had been through.

"Easy now, lass," he cautioned gently once she had finished the second bowl, his dark eyes filled with concern. "Yer body might nae be used tae such rich fare."

"Thank ye," she replied. “I’m done,” she told him, setting the empty bowl aside and looking at him. The vulnerability in her gaze tugged at something deep within him—the same protective instinct she had aroused in him.

"Tell me," Darragh began hesitantly, his curiosity piqued, "what was it like during yer time in captivity?"

Lara's face darkened, her eyes clouding over as if a shadow had fallen upon her soul. Sensing her discomfort, Darragh quickly changed the subject.

"Never mind that," he said, then made matters worse by unthinkingly saying, "Dae ye ken how long ye were there?"

He could have kicked himself when her brow furrowed in confusion, but then she asked, “What time of year is it? What season?" her voice barely above a whisper.

"It’s summer," Darragh replied solemnly, his heart aching for her and the lost time she could never reclaim. “August, to be exact.”

"August?! I was taken in February. I’ve been in that dungeon for six months!" Her voice trembled with disbelief, and she looked stricken. Once again, Darragh’s heart went out to her. He didn’t even want to think about what would have happened to her if he hadn’t found her by pure chance.

Curse ye're damned soul to hell, Keir MacNeil! Ye stole Lillie, and ye stole this lass from her home and family too. Damn ye!

A heavy silence settled between them, punctuated only by the distant clamor of castle life. Darragh's thoughts swirled with memories of his own past, the battles and losses that haunted him every day.

Lara got up and went to one of the large windows, looking out over the courtyard, where the sun had already risen. He could tell she had questions for him and suspected she was unsure how to ask them.

"Do ye nae wish tae sleep?" he asked, ignoring the wide settee and moving to a comfortable armchair, settling himself in. "Ye've been through quite the ordeal."

Lara was silent for a long moment before she finally turned her face toward him.

"What is tae become of me now?" she finally asked.

"Ye're free," he replied, surprised at the question. Had he not told her as much before? "Ye’re nae me prisoner, if that is what concerns ye."

Lara looked over at him. Her brows furrowed together.

"Why did ye save me?"

Darragh considered the question. What was he supposed to have done? He was not a barbarian, unlike the late Laird Keir MacNeil, so why should he wish to keep her as a prisoner? She was an innocent pawn in a game much greater than herself, no doubt. Darragh was not sure why she had been abducted in the first place, but he felt sure there must be a clan feud at the bottom of it.

"'T’was the right thing tae dae."

Lara's lips formed a faint smile.

"And I am really free tae leave if I so desire?"

"Aye."

Lara hesitated. She chewed her lip, her gaze falling to the floor.

"How would I go? My family… they likely believe I’m dead, and I doubt they’re still searching for me. And it’s a long way home." She sounded mournful.

Darragh nodded. That much was likely true, and it would make returning home difficult.