Page 62 of The Highlander’s Iron Hold

Colin's eyes darkened immediately, and for a moment she saw a flash of the passion they'd shared. "Never," he said fiercely, his voice rough with conviction. "Nae in a million lifetimes, Morag. Dinnae ever think that."

Relief flooded through her, and she reached for him again, craving the connection they'd built. But once more, Colin caught her hands gently but firmly, holding her at arm's length.

"Then what's the matter?" she asked, confusion and frustration warring in her chest. "This morning ye could barely keep yer hands off me, and now ye are acting like I'm made of glass."

Colin's jaw tightened, and she could see some internal struggle playing out across his features. "I have a meetin’," he said finally. "Several meetings, actually. Clan business that's... preoccupyin’ me."

Morag studied his face, noting the tension around his eyes, the way he seemed to be choosing his words carefully. "Meetings that require the Iron Laird tae be so focused he can't even kiss his wife properly?"

A muscle ticked in Colin's jaw, but true to his Iron Laird nature, he chose not to respond. "Morag, could ye dae me a favor?" he asked, his tone carefully casual but somehow rehearsed. "I need ye tae go through some documents in me study. There are inventory lists that need organizing, and ye have a better hand fer details than I dae."

Something in his manner struck her as odd—too deliberate, like he was trying to get rid of her. But she nodded slowly. "Of course. What am I looking fer exactly?"

"Just... sort through what's there. Make sense of it all." Colin's smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "Take yer time with it. I'll come look fer ye later."

Colin has never asked me tae stay somewhere until he comes fer me. He's sending me away. Something's happening that he daesnae want me tae ken about.

Morag nodded, and Colin leaned in to give her a tender kiss on the forehead before heading toward the eastern entrance to the castle.

Despite her confusion and hurt, she headed to his study as requested. The room was indeed chaotic—stacks of documents scattered across his desk, supply lists mixed with correspondence from neighboring clans, records of grain stores piled haphazardly. The task was straightforward but tedious, and she threw herself into it with the efficiency her brothers had always teased her about.

As she worked, her mind continued to wander back to Colin. She found herself remembering the way his lips felt against her throat, the reverent touch of his hands as they'd mapped every curve of her body. The memory made her pulse quicken and her skin flush with warmth.

But then her thoughts drifted to his strange behavior that morning. She’d never had the impression Colin had anything to hide from her. Not even when he kept her at arm’s length.

In her time there, there had only been one thing she had not understood: the conditions for their marriage. If it had been a purely political decision, why had her father accepted Colin’s offer of marriage as opposed to several more prosperous lairds in the Highlands? Whatever was going on, Morag couldn’t accept that Colin was hiding something from her. Not now. Not when they had all this together. Not when her body responded to his touch the way it did. She decided she would try to speak to him again about it.

Focus.

But it was impossible. Every few minutes, she'd catch herself imagining Colin's fingers trailing along her neck, his mouth hot against her ear as he whispered endearments in Gaelic. The documents blurred before her eyes as she remembered the weight of his body against hers, the way he'd made her feel cherished and desired and completely alive.

The sensations between her legs were so strong that Morag worked faster, eager to finish so she could find Colin and persuade him to meet her in their chambers. She’d interrupt the meeting. Whatever it was that had him preoccupied couldn't be more important than what they'd built between them.

Within an hour, she had sorted everything into neat piles and organized the information as requested. She headed back toward the great hall, but as she descended the stairs, she heard the heavy rumble of cart wheels in the courtyard below. Curious, she moved to a window and peered down to see a massive caravan arriving—not just one cart, but several, all heavily laden and escorted by armed guards.

The chests being unloaded were clearly valuable, ornate and heavy enough to require multiple men to carry each one. And their arrival had been the reason Colin had deliberately sent her away so she wouldn't see it arrive.

Rushing downstairs, Morag arrived in the courtyard just as Colin was directing the placement of what had to be the largest chest she'd ever seen.

"What is all this?" she asked.

Colin turned, his face immediately falling when he saw her. "Morag, I thought ye were⁠—"

"What is this, Colin?" she repeated.

"It's... it's the rest of yer dowry," he said carefully.

Morag stared at the ongoing procession of wealth being carried into their castle. She rushed forward, undoing the clasp of a chest. Gold coins spilled from inside, and she caught glimpses of jewels, fine fabrics, and what looked like deeds to property.

"The rest of it?" Her voice was sharp now. "I never realized the agreement was for this much coin."

"Morag, let's discuss this privately⁠—"

"Nay." She stepped back from him. "Ye kent exactly how much this was worth."

"Of course I kent," Colin said, frustration creeping into his voice. "It's an arranged marriage, Morag. Did ye think yer faither would send ye with naething?"

"I thought it all came in the first carriage!" Morag's voice rose. "Why now, Colin? Why today?"