Page 70 of The Laird’s Sinful Secret

“Oh, but we must.” Calum’s grin widened. “It’s our sacred duty as yer braithers tae torment ye about whatever—or whoever—has put that look on yer face.”

“There’s nay look.”

“There’s absolutely a look,” David agreed. “The same one Calum wore when he finally admitted he was besotted with⁠—”

“We agreed never tae speak of that again,” Calum cut in quickly. “This is about Euan’s mysterious distraction, nae me past embarrassments.”

“Past?” Archibald’s scarred hand clapped Calum’s shoulder hard enough to stagger him. “Ye mean ongoing.”

Their banter washed over Euan like familiar comfort, easing the raw edges left by this morning’s disaster. This—this brotherhood forged in trauma and strengthened by years—this he understood. This he could trust, unlike the complicated tangle of feelings Moyra MacKenzie stirred in his chest.

“Why are ye really here?” he asked, cutting through their teasing. “And dinnae tell me it was just fer the Fire Fair’s second day. And were is Lachlann?”

The laughter faded. David exchanged glances with the others before answering. “Yer letter. About the MacKenzie situation. Lachlann is on a birlinn as we speak traveling tae meet with some clans that are giving him problems with trade routes. Naething’ serious enough tae require our united intervention but one of those disagreements that are better nipped in the bud. He sends his regards and will be in touch as soon as he is on the mainland again.”

“Och.” Euan gestured toward the keep. “’Tis a pity nae tae see him this time ‘round. Come. We should discuss this inside where⁠—”

“Is that her?” Calum’s attention had shifted to something over Euan’s shoulder.

Euan turned to find Moyra descending the keep’s steps, her copper hair braided back, a simple green dress emphasizing eyes that had looked at him with such heat last night and such regret this morning. She moved with careful grace, as if uncertain of her welcome, and something in his chest twisted painfully at the vulnerability in her expression.

“Aye,” he said quietly. “That’s her.”

“Saints preserve us,” Calum breathed. “She’s beautiful.”

“And heading this way,” David observed. “With what appears tae be significant trepidation.”

Moyra approached slowly, her gaze flicking between the four men with obvious wariness. When she reached them, she dropped into a curtsy that somehow managed to be both proper and mocking. “Me lords.”

“Lady Moyra MacKenzie,” Euan said, his voice coming out a tad colder than intended. “Allow me tae introduce Calum MacKinnon, David MacDonald, and Archibald MacRae. Three of the Loch Eilein Covenant braithers I mentioned.”

“The ones who grew up taegether after trying tae kill each other as children?” Her mouth quirked. “Ye’ve got quite the reputation, gentlemen.”

Calum laughed, the sound bright and warm. “Only half of which is deserved. The other half is pure slander.”

“Which half?” Moyra’s eyes sparkled with challenge.

“Now that’s the question, isnae it?” David stepped forward, his hawk-like features softening into a smile. “It’s a pleasure tae meet the woman who’s got our braither so thoroughly tangled.”

“Tangled?” Moyra glanced at Euan, something unreadable flickering across her face. “I’m nae certain that’s the word I’d use.”

“What word would ye use?” Archibald rumbled. “Because from what I’m seeing, ‘tangled’ seems generous.”

Heat crawled up Euan’s neck. “Perhaps we should⁠—”

“Oh nay,” Calum cut in, grinning. “This is far too entertaining. Please, me lady, continue.”

Moyra studied the three men, and Euan watched something shift in her expression—the wariness giving way to that sharp wit that made his pulse race. “Well, if we’re being honest, ‘hostage’ comes tae mind. Though ‘political inconvenience’ also has a certain ring tae it.”

The brothers burst out laughing. Even Archibald’s scarred face cracked into a smile.

“I like her,” Calum declared. “Euan, ye should keep this one.”

“She’s nae a stray puppy,” Euan growled.

“Nay, she’s clearly far more trouble than that.” David’s keen eyes studied Moyra with obvious approval. “The question is whether our braither’s prepared fer the chaos she’s bringing.”

“He’s nae,” Moyra said before Euan could respond. “But he’s too stubborn tae admit it.”