Page 54 of Under the Laird’s Promise

"Bless ye, me lady." Morag clutched the burlap like it might vanish if she loosened her grip. "Bless ye and yer man both."

Yer man. The words skittered across Maighread's nerves, half pleasure and half panic. She nodded and moved on before her face could betray the chaos those two simple words unleashed.

Tavish materialized at her elbow, close enough that his warmth cut through the late afternoon chill. "Ye need water. Ye've been working since we arrived."

"So have ye."

"Aye, but I'm nae the one who looks ready tae collapse." His hand settled at her lower back, steady pressure that guided her away from the distribution line. "Five minutes. Drink something. Then ye can return tae saving the world."

The touch burned through layers of wool and linen, branding her skin in ways she'd stopped pretending weren't happening. "I'm fine."

"Ye're trembling." His thumb traced a small circle against her spine. "When did ye last eat?"

She couldn't remember. Breakfast had been interrupted by Malcolm's report on supplies. Lunch had vanished entirely in the chaos of departure. "I'll eat later."

"Ye'll eat now." The growl in his voice made something low in her belly clench. "Dinnae test me on this, lass."

Before she could argue, he steered her toward a makeshift bench someone had cobbled together from old cart pieces. His hands on her shoulders pressed her down with a firmness that shouldn't have made heat flood her cheeks.

"Stay." The command came soft but absolute. "I'll fetch food."

He disappeared into the crowd before she could protest. Maighread sat there feeling oddly bereft, which was ridiculous. The man had been gone all of thirty seconds.

Around her, the second village they were visiting hummed with renewed energy. Children darted between adults' legs, their earlier hollow-eyed silence replaced by something approaching normalcy. Women clustered near the grain distribution, voices rising in animated discussion. Men gathered at the edges, watching Tavish's warriors with expressions that had shifted from hostility to cautious approval.

"That yer betrothed?" A girl of perhaps twelve approached, eyes wide and curious. "The tall one with the bonnie hair?"

"Aye." The admission came easier than it should.

"He's fearsome." The child's tone suggested this was high praise. "Heard him tell off those men who tried tae take extra grain. Didnae raise his voice once, but they near soiled themselves scrambling tae obey."

Maighread's mouth twitched despite her exhaustion. "Did they now?"

"Aye. And he helped old Fergus lift the heavy sacks when Fergus's back gave out. Just stepped in like it was nothing." The girl leaned closer, conspiratorial. "Is he good tae ye? He looks like it."

The observation landed harder than it should. "He's… kind."

"Kind's good. Better than cruel and handsome." The child nodded sagely, as if dispensing wisdom earned through decades rather than years. "Mama says kindness matters more than coin when choosing a husband."

"Yer mama's right."

"She is." The girl beamed. "I hope when I'm grown, I find someone who looks at me the way yer man looks at ye. Like ye're the only person in the whole world worth seeing."

Before Maighread could respond, Tavish returned carrying bread, cheese, and what looked like strips of dried meat. He crouched beside the bench, bringing those blue-green eyes level with hers.

"Eat." He pressed the food into her hands. "All of it."

The child giggled and scampered away, leaving them in their small bubble of privacy amid the bustling square.

Maighread tore off a piece of bread, suddenly ravenous now that sustenance sat within reach. "Ye're bossy."

"Aye." No hint of apology colored the word. "Get used tae it."

She ate in silence, acutely aware of how he watched her. Not hovering exactly, but present in a way that made her skin tingle and her pulse quicken. When she'd finished half the bread and most of the cheese, he finally relaxed his stance.

"Better?"

"Marginally." She brushed crumbs from her skirt. "Thank ye."