Page 30 of The Highlander’s Savage Vow

CHAPTER ELEVEN

What in hell's name is wrong with ye?

The practice sword slammed into Ruaridh's opponent's shield with enough force to send the younger man staggering backward, but the violent satisfaction of the blow did nothing to ease the knot of fury building in his chest.

Across the training yard, Iona stood talking to young Euan, her face animated in a way he hadn't seen since their wedding night. The lad was grinning at something she'd said, standing far too close for Ruaridh's liking, his sandy head bent toward hers with an intimacy that made Ruaridh's grip tighten on his sword hilt until his knuckles went white.

She's yer wife, nae some tavern wench tae be chatted up by every pup with a sword.

The thought came unbidden and unwelcome. He had no right to feel possessive of a woman he barely touched and who he had no claim on beyond the legal bonds of their marriage. And yet the sight of her laughing with another man, especially a young, unmarked warrior who probably still believed in honor and glory, sent something dark and violent churning through his veins.

"Sir?" His sparring partner's voice seemed to come from very far away. "Are ye all right? Did I dae somethin’?"

Ruaridh forced himself to lower his weapon, dragging his gaze away from his wife and the boy who was making her smile. "Nay. Trainin's over fer today," he said, his voice sharp enough to cut through an inch of glass. "See tae yer weapons."

Without waiting for a response, he stalked across the yard toward the couple, each step closer revealing more details too fed his inexplicable anger—the way Euan's eyes lingered on Iona's face, the flush of pleasure in her cheeks, the easy way she seemed to be talking to him.

She never talks tae me like that. Never looks at me with that kind of warmth.

The comparison hit him like a blow to the gut. When had he started caring whether his wife smiled at him? When had her attention become something he wanted rather than something he endured?

"Euan." His voice cut across their conversation like a blade.

Both heads turned toward him, and Ruaridh saw the exact moment Iona's expression shifted from animated pleasure to wary concern. Her hazel eyes searched his face, clearly reading something in his posture that alarmed her.

"Laird Ruaridh," Euan said quickly, straightening to attention. "I was just telling Lady MacDuff about the training exercises. She was asking about⁠—"

"I'm sure she was." Ruaridh's tone was carefully controlled, but ice ran through every word. "Dinnae ye have duties tae attend tae?"

The young warrior's face flushed, understanding the dismissal for what it was. "Aye, sir. Of course." He turned to Iona with a respectful bow. "Thank ye fer the conversation, me lady. I hope ye'll find the training yard interesting tae visit."

Ruaridh's jaw clenched at the invitation, but before he could respond, Euan was already backing away, clearly eager to escape whatever storm was brewing in his laird's expression.

When they were alone, Iona continued to study his face with that unnerving perceptiveness that made him feel stripped bare.

"What's wrong?" she asked quietly.

Everything. Naething. I dinnae ken why the sight of ye talking tae another man makes me want tae run him through with a blade.

"Naething's wrong," he tried to keep his tone cool, but even to his own ears the words sounded strained.

"Ruaridh." Her voice was gentle but firm. "I can see ye're upset about something. Was it... was I nae supposed tae be here? I ken ye said the training yard was where ye came fer peace and quiet."

The uncertainty in her voice cut through his anger like cold water, reminding him that she was still finding her place there, still unsure of her welcome. Whatever madness had gripped him, she didn't deserve to bear the brunt of it.

"I came tae find ye," she continued before he could speak, her hands twisting together in that nervous gesture he was beginning to recognize. "I wanted tae thank ye again."

"Thank me?" The words came out sharp, confusion instantly replacing some of his earlier fury.

"Fer speaking tae yer maither. Fer asking her tae include me in the festival preparations." Her voice grew softer, more uncertain. "It... it means more than ye probably realize. Having something meaningful tae dae."

The last of his anger drained away so completely that he felt momentarily dizzy. She wasn't there to flirt with young guardsmen or seek attention from other men. She'd come to thank him for trying to help her find her place in his clan.

Ye jealous bastard. She was trying tae show gratitude, and ye nearly started a fight over naethin’.

"It was naethin’," he said. He cleared his throat, trying to find words that wouldn't reveal how much her thanks affected him. "Me maither needed help. Ye needed something tae dae. It made sense."

"Still." She took a half-step closer, and he caught the faint scent of lavender that always seemed to cling to her hair. "It was thoughtful of ye tae think of it. Tae... tae notice that I was struggling."