Page 21 of Under the Laird’s Promise

Keir spotted her immediately. "Lady Maighread. I hoped tae bid ye farewell properly."

"Safe travels, me lord." She kept her voice neutral.

"I'll be in the village." He mounted smoothly. "Should ye need anything. Anything at all."

"I'm well cared fer here."

"I'm certain ye are." His gaze flicked past her. "Ah, MacBain. Come tae see me off?"

Tavish appeared at her elbow, steady and solid. "Seemed only courteous."

"How thoughtful." Keir gathered his reins. "I'll see ye both soon. Very soon. I wouldn't miss witnessing the wedding fer anything."

He wheeled his horse and clattered through the gate, his men following in tight formation.

Silence fell over the courtyard.

"Well," Tavish said quietly. "That wasn't ominous at all."

Despite everything, Maighread almost laughed. "Nay. Nae even slightly."

They stood together, watching the road long after Keir disappeared from view.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Two days of relative peace, and Tavish should have known better than to trust it.

He'd spent the time appearing at MacEwan's side during meals, walking the battlements with Maighread where everyone could see them, playing the devoted betrothed. The act grew easier with repetition. Too easy, if he was honest. The way she fit against his side felt natural now. The sound of her laugh made something warm unfurl in his chest.

Dangerous territory. This was supposed to be strategy, nothing more.

That's what he told himself as he and his men prepared to ride out. Greg had been unusually quiet during the preparations, shooting him looks that promised another interrogation the moment they were alone.

Maighread appeared in the courtyard as they mounted their horses. She wore a simple grey gown, her hair braided back. Morning light caught in the chestnut strands, turned them copper and gold.

"Safe travels home," she said formally. Too many ears listening. "I'm sure yer braither will be eager tae hear the news."

"Aye. Fionnlagh will have questions." He leaned down from the saddle.

"Be safe." Her voice stayed steady, but something flickered in those storm-grey eyes. Concern? Or just relief that he'd be gone?

He straightened, gathering his reins. The thought of two weeks away from her already felt too long, though he'd never admit it. "Take care, lass. If Keir returns⁠—"

"I'll be careful," she interrupted. "Go. Yer men are waiting."

"Aye." But he hesitated one moment more, drinking in the sight of her standing there in the morning light. "Maighread⁠—"

"Go," she said again, softer this time.

They clattered through the gates, seven men riding south toward MacBain lands. The morning was cold, frost clinging to dead grass. Winter would arrive early this year. Tavish could taste it in the air.

Greg urged his horse alongside. "So. That went well enough."

"Aye. Keir's gone. We pulled it off." Tavish kept his gaze on the road ahead, though relief didn't quite settle in his chest.

"Fer now." Greg's tone held caution. "Ye dinnae actually think he's given up, dae ye?"

"Nae. But he's left the castle at least. That's something." Tavish shifted in his saddle.