Page 47 of The Highlander’s Savage Vow

"Council meeting, sir. Laird Alistair requests yer immediate presence."

Of course he daes.

"I'll be there in a moment," Ruaridh replied, then looked at Iona. "Can ye finish this?"

She nodded without meeting his eyes, her hands steady as she began wrapping fresh bandages around his ribs. The intimacy of moments before was gone, replaced by careful efficiency that left him aching for what might have been.

"Iona—" he began.

"Go," she said quietly. "They're waiting fer ye."

With a nod, he grabbed his shirt and made his way to the council chamber, his mind still half-focused on the feel of Iona's gentle hands on his skin. The interruption had been perfectly timed to destroy what might have been a breakthrough between them, and he found himself resenting whatever crisis demanded his immediate attention.

By the time he reached the heavy oak doors of the council chamber, he'd managed to push thoughts of Iona aside and focus on the role expected of him. But the transition felt more difficult than it used to, as if part of him was beginning to resist the constant demands of duty.

The chamber felt smaller than usual, crowded with tension and barely suppressed anger. The twelve men seated around the oak table looked like they'd rather be anywhere else, and Ruaridh could see the strain in his father's face as he took his seat at the head of the table.

"Gentlemen," Alistair began without preamble, "we're here tae discuss yesterday's attack and what it means fer our clan's security."

"What it means," Hamish MacBride interrupted, his red face already mottled with anger, "is that we're at war because of one lass's troubles."

"The MacNabs attacked us," Ruaridh said coldly. "That makes them the aggressors, nae us."

"They attacked because ye brought their target right intae our midst!" Fergus leaned forward, his ancient eyes blazing. "If ye'd left the MacNeill lass where she belonged⁠—"

"Then Murray MacNab would have murdered her, and we'd have stood by and watched," Ruaridh cut him off. "Is that the kind of clan ye want us tae be?"

"I want us tae be the kind of clan that survives!" Hamish slammed his fist on the table. "Nae one that throws itself intae someone else's blood feud!"

"This isn't just about Iona," Ruaridh said, struggling to keep his voice level. "The information we've gathered suggests MacNab is involved in something much larger⁠—"

"Information?" Duncan MacGregor's laugh was bitter. "What information? The prisoner ye questioned told us nothing we didn't already ken."

"He confirmed that Murray will keep attacking until he gets what he wants. That means this won't end with negotiations or treaties. It ends with one of us dead."

"Or," Hamish said with a significant look around the table, "it ends with us handing over what MacNab wants and washing our hands of this mess."

The silence that followed was deafening. Ruaridh could feel the weight of every gaze in the room, could sense the fear and resentment that his marriage had brought to the clan he'd sworn to protect.

"Ye're suggesting we hand over me wife tae a man who wants tae murder her," he said quietly.

"I'm suggesting we consider all our options," Hamish replied. "The clan's survival comes first."

"The clan's honor comes first," Ruaridh corrected, his voice carrying the dangerous edge that made smart men step back. "And we dinnae sacrifice innocent women tae save our own skins."

"Honor daesnae protect against MacNab raids," Fergus muttered. "Honor daesnae keep our children safe in their beds."

Alistair cleared his throat, drawing attention back to the head of the table. "Perhaps... perhaps this situation calls fer more experienced leadership."

Ruaridh's blood turned cold. "What are ye saying, Faither?"

"I'm saying that maybe I've been too hasty in planning me retirement." Alistair's voice was carefully neutral, but Ruaridh could see the pain in his eyes. "Maybe the clan needs steady hands on the reins during this crisis."

"Ye mean me hands aren't steady enough?" The words came out flat, emotionless.

"I mean ye're young, and young men sometimes let their hearts overrule their heads," Alistair said gently. "This marriage may have been decided on hastily."

"This marriage was the right decision," Ruaridh interrupted. "Whatever the consequences."