Page 33 of The Laird’s Sinful Claim

CHAPTER EIGHT

"This is Keppoch."

David's voice pulled Elinor from her exhausted daze. She'd been half-asleep in the saddle, lulled by three days of hard riding and cold winds. But now she straightened, following his gesture toward the valley below.

And stopped breathing.

Her father's estate had been a crumbling testament to faded glory—grey stone gone dark with neglect, gardens choked with weeds, walls that seemed to sag under the weight of unpaid debts.

She'd grown up surrounded by decay, by the constant reminder that everything beautiful eventually rotted away.

Keppoch was nothing like that.

The castle rose from the Highland landscape like it had grown there, all grey stone and proud towers, banners snapping in the wind. Smoke curled from chimneys. Light glowed in windows. And surrounding it, spreading down the hillside in neat clusters, were cottages and workshops, a village that seemed to thrive rather than merely survive.

"It's beautiful," she said quietly.

David urged the horse forward, and she felt the shift in him, tension leaving his shoulders, his breathing deepening. "Come on. They'll be waitin' fer us."

The gates opened as they approached, the guards recognizing their laird and calling out greetings. People emerged from buildings, drawn by the commotion. Elinor was suddenly very aware of how she must look, travel-stained, exhausted, her hair in wild tangles from three days of wind.

David swung down from the horse, then reached up to help her. His hands closed around her waist, lifting her easily. For just a moment, before her feet touched the ground, she was suspended in his grip, close enough to see the faint lines of weariness around his eyes.

"Ready?" he asked quietly.

"No."

"Good answer." He set her down but kept one hand at the small of her back. "Just smile and nod. I'll dae the talkin'."

People were gathering now, curious faces turned toward them. Elinor recognized the pattern. Servants trying to appear busy while watching everything, and guards standing at attention but with eyes sharp and assessing. Meanwhile someone who looked like a steward hurried forward with questions already forming on his lips.

"Me laird!" The man stopped a few feet away, breathless. "Ye're back early. We didnae expect ye fer another week at least."

"Plans changed, Malcolm." David's voice carried authority, the easy command of someone who'd been giving orders his whole life. "I need tae introduce someone."

The steward's gaze slid to Elinor, taking in her fine gown, her English features, the way David's hand rested possessively at her back. His eyes widened, but he bowed politely.

"Everyone!" David raised his voice, and the courtyard went quiet. "This is Lady Elinor MacDonald. Me wife. And yer new lady."

The silence that followed was profound. Elinor felt dozens of eyes on her, weighing, judging, wondering. She lifted her chin, meeting their gazes the way she'd learned to meet her father's, with composure that revealed nothing.

Then a woman near the back started clapping. Slowly at first, then with gathering enthusiasm. Others joined in, tentative at first, then stronger. Within moments, the entire courtyard was filled with applause and shouts of congratulation.

"Welcome, me lady!"

"About time the laird took a wife!"

"A bonnie one too!"

Elinor felt heat rise in her cheeks. She wasn't used to this. Warmth, welcoming people seeming genuinely pleased rather than calculating what they could gain from her presence.

"Thank ye all," David said, and the crowd quieted again. "We've had a long journey. Me lady needs rest." He turned to a young woman who'd been hovering near the kitchen entrance. "Ainsley. Take Lady MacDonald tae the bedchamber. Make sure she has everythin' she needs. A bath, clean clothes, and fresh, warm food."

"Aye, me laird." The girl, Ainsley, bobbed a curtsy, her freckled face bright with curiosity. "Right this way, me lady."

David's hand squeezed gently at Elinor's back. "Go on, lass. Rest. I'll find ye later."

She wanted to protest. She wanted to stay by his side, if only because he was the one familiar thing in that overwhelming new place. But exhaustion was pulling at her bones, and the promise of a bath was irresistible.