Page 112 of Under the Laird’s Promise

"Nay, I mean ye're really going tae marry her. This isnae just politics or protection anymore, is it?"

Tavish's jaw tightened. "She's tae be me wife."

"That's nae what I asked."

The hall buzzed with conversation around them, but their corner felt suddenly isolated. Tavish met Greg's gaze and saw understanding there. Too much understanding.

"I willnae let Sinclair have her," Tavish said quietly. "I willnae let anyone hurt her. She's mine tae protect, and I'll die before I fail her."

Greg's expression shifted. The teasing fell away completely, replaced by something gentler. "Ye love her."

It wasn't a question.

Tavish said nothing. His throat had gone tight, words sticking there like burrs.

Greg's mouth curved into a small, genuine smile. He reached for his cup and raised it slightly. "I'm glad."

"What?"

"I'm glad ye've found someone. Glad it's her." Greg drank, then set the cup down carefully. "Ye deserve this, friend. Ye deserve tae be happy."

"I dinnae⁠—"

"Aye, ye dae. I ken ye dinnae believe it, but ye dae." Greg's voice went rough. "I've watched ye carry guilt that would break most men, ever since that border incident years back. And now I'm watching ye with her, and fer the first time since I've kenned ye, ye look… like ye believe ye might deserve happiness."

Tavish stared at his hands. "I still havenae said the actual words tae her."

Silence stretched between them. Then Greg leaned forward, his tone shifting into something more urgent.

"Then tell her."

"I cannae⁠—"

"Why the hell nae?"

"Because..." Tavish exhaled harshly. "Because once I say it, it's real. And if it's real, I can lose it. I can ruin it the way I ruin everything I⁠—"

"Stop." Greg's voice cut through the spiral. "Dinnae waste time being afraid. Life's too short, and that bastard Sinclair's too close. If ye love her, tell her. Make sure she kens before something happens and ye never get the chance."

Tavish's chest ached. "What if she daesnae⁠—"

"She daes."

"Ye cannae be sure."

"I've watched ye both. Trust me. She daes." Greg's expression softened. "But she needs tae hear it from ye. Dinnae wait. Dinnae assume she kens. Tell her."

Tavish nodded slowly, the tightness in his throat easing slightly. "Aye. I will."

Greg studied him for another moment, then nodded, satisfied. "Good. Now drink yer ale before it gets warm and try nae tae look like someone punched ye in the gut when she comes back."

Tavish reached for his cup, Greg's words settling into his bones.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

The corridor outside Angus MacEwan's chamber was quiet, the noise from the Great Hall a distant murmur. Tavish paused outside the door, steadying himself, then knocked firmly.

"Come," a weak voice called.