Page 82 of The Laird’s Sinful Claim

CHAPTER NINETEEN

"Stay here. Rest."

David's voice was gentle as he settled Elinor into their bed, pulling the covers up over her. The bandage on her neck was stark white against her skin, a reminder of how close he'd come to losing her.

"I'm fine," she protested, but her voice was tired.

"Ye're exhausted. And ye've been through hell today." He brushed a strand of hair back from her face. "Sleep, lass. I need tae speak with me braithers about what happened. They'll have questions." He moved toward the door. "I'll nae be long."

He paused, looking back.

The kiss was still fresh in his mind—the taste of her, the way she'd melted against him, the soft sounds she'd made when he'd deepened it.

"Get some rest. We'll talk later."

He left before he could do something foolish like climb into that bed with her and forget about councils and attacks and everything else that demanded his attention.

The walk to his study felt longer than usual. David's mind kept replaying the moment he'd seen that blade at Elinor's throat. The cold terror that had flooded through him. The desperate sprint across the courtyard.

If he'd been a second slower, if his aim had been off…

He shoved the thoughts aside. She was safe. That was what mattered.

He pushed open the study door to find four men already waiting for him. Euan sat in the chair by the window, his bad leg stretched out before him. Calum leaned against the desk, arms crossed. Archibald stood near the fireplace, and Lachlann had claimed the other chair, looking far too comfortable for David's current mood.

"Well," Euan said without preamble. "That was a disaster."

"Good to see ye too," David muttered, moving to pour himself a drink. "Help yerselves tae the dram, why dinnae ye."

"Already did." Calum held up his glass. "So. Want to tell us what in God's name is goin' on?"

David took a long drink, feeling the burn of it steady his nerves. "What dae ye want tae ken?"

"Everything." Euan's voice was sharp. "Starting with why Langley's men are attackin' yer wife at a clan celebration."

"Because Langley's a bastard who cannae take nay fer an answer."

"That's nae an answer, David. That's a deflection." Euan leaned forward. "We're nae stupid. We saw the way ye reacted when that arrow flew. The way ye went after her like the hounds of hell were at yer heels. This is nae just about some English man bein' a poor loser."

David stared into his glass, debating how much to tell them. These were his brothers in all but blood. Men he'd grown up with, trained with, trusted with his life.

But this—this was different.

"She was at an auction," he said finally.

Silence fell over the room like a stone.

"What?" Lachlann asked carefully. "What possible reason could ye have fer buyin' a woman at a bloody auction?"

Euan stood, getting in David's face. "Christ, David. We swore. All of us. After what happened tae yer maither, after what yer uncle did tae her, we swore we'd never treat women as pawns tae be moved around fer political convenience. And now ye're tellin' me ye bought yer wife?"

"I saved her! At an auction. Fer brides." David's jaw tightened. "Her faither was sellin' her tae the highest bidder. Langley was there. They had been betrothed a few years ago but her faither broke the betrothal because he needed more coin. I found them arguing over her, Langley insisted she was his. When her faither refused, Langley started biddin' on her like she was livestock."

"Christ," Archibald breathed.

"In the meantime, I was contacted a few weeks ago by the Regent, who wanted me tae take an English bride. She's an English bride." David kept his tone even. "I did what was asked. I helped her and myself."

"Through deception and word games." Euan stood, his movements stiff. "Dae ye ken what the Regent will dae if he finds out?"