Page 14 of Under the Laird’s Promise

Maighread stood and opened the door. Tavish waited in the corridor outside, his expression carefully controlled. "Me faither wants tae speak with ye."

Tavish entered, his movements careful. When he reached the bedside, he bowed. "Laird MacEwan. It's been some years."

"Aye. Too many." Her father studied him intently. "Ye've grown intae a fine man, Tavish. Yer faither would be proud."

Something crossed Tavish's face. Pain, maybe. "I hope so."

"He would be. Now then." Her father gestured to the chair near the window. "Sit. Maighread's told me everything. I ken this betrothal is a fiction ye agreed tae out of obligation tae me."

Tavish sat, his broad frame making the furniture look child-sized. "Aye. She needed help. I gave it."

"And now Keir Sinclair is in me keep, watching this arrangement closely." Her father's gaze sharpened. "He won't accept defeat easily. Ye ken that."

"I dae." Tavish leaned forward, elbows on knees. "Which is why I'm telling ye now—if I'm going tae protect Maighread properly, this cannae be half-measured. Keir needs tae believe this betrothal is real. Completely real. And he needs tae be removed as a threat. Permanently."

Maighread's breath caught. "What daes that mean?"

"It means," her father said calmly, "that Keir Sinclair cannae leave this situation with any leverage over ye. Any claim. Any hope of forcing yer hand."

"How?" She looked between them. "He's too powerful tae simply dismiss."

"But nae too powerful tae defeat." Tavish's voice hardened. "Nae if we're smart about it."

Her father studied him for a long moment. Then he nodded. "Aye. Dae what needs daeing. Ye have me full support."

Tavish rose. "I should leave ye tae speak privately. There's much tae arrange before taenight's dinner."

"Aye. Malcolm will see ye settled." Her father extended his hand. "Thank ye, lad. Fer all of it."

Tavish clasped his hand briefly. "I'll keep her safe. I swear it."

"I ken ye will."

Tavish left, closing the door softly behind him.

Her father reached for her hand again. "Ye've tied yer fate tae his now, lass. But Tavish is a good man. He'll honor this arrangement." He sighed, exhaustion creeping into his voice. "Go. Rest. Prepare fer dinner. We'll announce the betrothal publicly taenight."

"I understand." She stood, leaning down to kiss his forehead. His skin felt hot, feverish. "I love ye, Faither."

"I love ye too, lass. Even when ye're being spectacularly foolish." He smiled faintly. "Now go. And fer God's sake, find a clean gown. Ye look like ye've been dragged through a bog."

"I have been dragged through a bog."

"Then find two clean gowns."

She left him there, propped among his pillows, looking far frailer than any father should.

She'd barely reached her chamber two floors down before the door swung open.

"Maighread MacEwan, what in Christ's blessed name have ye done?"

Kathleen swept in, all righteous fury and flying brown hair. Her cousin was two years older, married to one of the MacEwan warriors, and possessed exactly zero patience for foolishness.

"Hello tae ye too," Maighread said tiredly.

"Dinnae 'hello' me." Kathleen planted her hands on her hips. "The whole castle's buzzing like a kicked beehive. Ye rode in with Keir Sinclair, a MacBain warrior, and mud covering ye from head tae toe. Malcolm says ye're betrothed. The servants are taking wagers on whether it's real. And I had tae hear all this secondhand like some common gossiper instead of from yer own mouth!"

Guilt pricked again. "I'm sorry. Everything happened so fast."