Page 23 of The Highlander’s Iron Hold

Colin Armstrong

He sealed it with his clan ring, then began the second letter—this one requiring far more delicate language:

Alistair MacDuff⁠—

The first portion of our arrangement has been fulfilled as agreed. However, Fraser's recent actions compel me tae request immediate completion of our understandin’.

The remaining considerations discussed in our private agreements must now be delivered without delay. Given the circumstances we both anticipated, I trust ye will honor the full scope of what was promised. As will I.

Yer daughter remains unaware. She will be protected according tae her station, though I trust ye understand that all agreements must be satisfied fer that protection tae remain absolute.

Time grows short. I expect yer swift response.

Colin Armstrong

Both letters were dispatched with his fastest riders. As he walked across the courtyard, Colin's mind was already calculating—how long would it be before Fraser made his next move, how much time did they have to strengthen his defenses and would the MacDuff dowry arrive before he needed it most.

One thing was certain: today's fair would serve multiple purposes. His people would see their new lady, Fraser's spies would note Armstrong strength and unity, and Morag would begin to understand exactly what she'd married into.

Whether that last part was wise remained to be seen.

Colin arrived at the stables to find Morag already waiting, dressed in a deep blue riding habit that proclaimed her status as Lady Armstrong. She stood near the entrance, watching him with that careful assessment he'd grown accustomed to over the previous few days.

Christ.

His steps faltered slightly as he took her in. The rich fabric hugged her curves in ways that made his mouth go dry, and the way the morning light caught in her hair made his fingers itch to touch the golden strands.

How is a man supposed tae think clearly when ye look like that?

"I thought we might take Storm fer ye," Colin said, leading a gentle chestnut mare from her stall. "She's steady and has a smooth gait."

Morag approached the horse cautiously, and Colin found himself watching the graceful way she moved, the gentle confidence in her steps. When she reached up to stroke Storm's muzzle, he caught a whiff of her scent. It was floral and distinctly feminine in a way that made his pulse quicken despite his efforts to remain composed.

Focus on the horse.

But Colin's eyes kept drifting to the elegant line of Morag's neck as she bent to examine the mare's bridle.

She's yer wife, nae some tavern wench tae be ogled.

Colin moved with practiced ease, running his hands along Storm's neck and speaking to her in low, soothing tones, though he was acutely aware of Morag's proximity. When she stepped closer to watch his ministrations, her shoulder brushed against his arm, and the brief contact sent an unexpected jolt of heat through him.

The mare nickered softly and leaned into his touch, clearly adoring the attention, but Colin's focus was split between the horse and the woman standing so tantalizingly close.

"Easy, lass," Colin murmured to the horse, his voice gentler than Morag had ever heard it, though he wasn't entirely sure if he was speaking to Storm or trying to calm his own racing thoughts about the bonny woman beside him. "Ye've got a new rider today, so mind yerself."

If only I could mind me own self.

He stole another glance at Morag's profile, feeling his resolve weaken with each passing moment.

Morag watched in fascination as Colin continued his careful ministrations. He checked the saddle, adjusting the stirrups to her height, all while maintaining that quiet dialogue with the animal. His movements were sure but tender, and Storm responded to him like a beloved house pet. There was something almost graceful about the way he seemed to anticipate the horse's needs before she even expressed them.

Morag watched the way his fingers moved with surprising delicacy along the mare's neck.

How can hands that command armies be so gentle? How would it feel tae be touched so tenderly by ye?

"She trusts ye completely," Morag observed, noting how the mare's ears pricked forward whenever Colin spoke.

"Horses are honest creatures," Colin replied, giving Storm's nose an affectionate pat. "They dinnae lie or pretend tae be something they're nae. If ye treat them well, they return it."