Page 38 of The Highlander’s Savage Vow

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

"Christ almighty!" The words exploded from him as he surged to his feet, ignoring the sharp pain that shot through his side. "Ye've been sitting on this knowledge and ye didnae think tae tell me before I married ye, or even after we wedded?"

Iona flinched at his tone, but her chin lifted with familiar defiance. "Ruaridh⁠—"

"Nay!" He began pacing the small space, his movements sharp with fury. "Ye let me walk intae this marriage blind, let me bring this threat down on me entire clan without warning? What kind of woman—" He stopped abruptly, turning to face her with eyes that blazed with betrayal. "Or was this the plan all along?"

"What?" Her voice was barely a whisper.

"Yer faither." His voice was deadly quiet now, more dangerous than his shouting had been. "Eoin MacNeill has been nursing grudges against half the Highland lairds fer years. What better way tae bring down his enemies than tae marry his daughter tae a powerful clan and let her doings destroy everyone he's ever hated?"

The color drained from Iona's face. "That's nae—ye cannae think⁠—"

"Can I nae?" He stepped closer, his green eyes hard as winter stone. "A convenient marriage tae get his daughter out of danger, and as a bonus, he gets tae watch Murray MacNab and his allies burn? Maybe even take down a few MacDuffs in the process?"

"Stop." The word came out sharp, desperate. "Just stop. That's nae what this is, and ye ken it."

"Dae I? Because from where I'm standing, it looks like I've been played for a fool by the entire MacNeill clan." His voice carried a bitter edge. "How long have ye been planning this, lass? How long have ye been sitting there, watching me make promises tae protect ye, knowing that the real danger comes from the secrets ye're hiding?"

Tears were flowing freely down her cheeks now, but her voice remained steady. "Me faither kens naething about the letter, Ruaridh. Naething."

"Ye expect me tae believe that?"

"It's the truth!" She stepped toward him, her hands reaching out as if to touch him, then dropping when she saw the coldness in his expression. "Me faither only kens about the assault, about Murray's threats. I told him what I found in Murray's study but nae about the letter. He was trying tae protect me, naething more."

"And the letter? Where is it now?"

She swallowed hard. "Hidden. In me belongings."

"Here? In me castle?" His voice rose again. "Ye brought evidence of Highland-wide treason intae me home without telling me?"

"I couldnae leave it behind! If Murray found it⁠—"

"If Murray finds it here, it makes me clan complicit in whatever schemes yer faither might be hatching!" He turned away from her, running his hands through his hair. "Sweet Mary, Iona. Dae ye have any idea what ye've done?"

"Me faither has nothing tae dae with this," she said, her voice breaking. "I swear tae ye on me maither's life, Ruaridh. He daesnae ken about the letter. I never told him what I discovered."

"And why should I believe—" He turned back toward her and stopped mid-sentence.

The terror in her eyes was real. Raw and desperate in a way that couldn't be feigned. She stood there trembling, tears streaming down her face, looking like a woman who'd been carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders for far too long.

Christ. She's telling the truth.

All the fight went out of him in a rush, leaving behind only bone-deep exhaustion and something that might have been shame. She wasn't a conspirator or a manipulator—she was a frightened lass who'd stumbled onto something too big for her to handle alone.

"Iona..." His voice was gentler now, uncertain.

"I ken I should have told ye," she whispered. "I ken I should have trusted ye with the truth from the beginning. But when we met ye were so cold, I didnae recognize ye. And I was afraid—so afraid that if ye knew what kind of danger I carried with me, ye'd send me away. And I had naywhere else tae go."

The naked vulnerability in her voice hit him like a physical blow. Without conscious thought, he crossed the space between them and cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears on her cheeks.

"Hush," he said softly. "Ye're safe. Ye're here, and ye're safe."

She leaned into his touch like a flower turning toward sunlight, her eyes closing briefly as if savoring the simple comfort of human contact.

"I'm sorry," she breathed. "I'm so sorry fer bringing this danger tae yer clan. Fer nae trusting ye with the truth."

"Ye were protecting yerself the only way ye kenned how," he said, his voice rough with understanding. "I cannae fault ye fer that."