Page 73 of Under the Laird’s Promise

She wanted to reach over, to touch him, to make certain he was truly there and whole. The urge felt foreign and frightening in its intensity. Keir's threat had terrified her, true. The prospect of losing her lands, her clan, her autonomy had driven her to reckless action. But the thought of losing Tavish?

That unsettled her in ways she hadn't known were possible. Because losing Tavish wouldn't just mean losing protection or an ally. It would mean losing the man who made her laugh when she wanted to scream. Who challenged her to be sharper, smarter, better. Who looked at her as though she was worth protecting not because of what she represented, but because of who she was.

Och, she was in trouble.

Tavish turned his head, catching her watching him. His expression softened fractionally. "Are ye all right, lass?"

"Aye." The lie came automatically. "Just thinking."

"About?"

Everything. Nothing. How completely ye've turned my world upside down without even trying.

"The attack," she said instead. "How they kenned exactly where we'd be."

His jaw tightened. "We'll find the traitor. I promise ye that."

"I ken ye will." The certainty in her voice surprised them both. But it was true. She trusted him to root out whoever had betrayed them. Trusted him to keep his word. Trusted him in ways she'd never trusted anyone outside her immediate family. They rode in silence for several more minutes, the tension between them different now. Charged with awareness and things neither of them could say. Maighread found herself hyper-conscious of the distance between their horses, the way their legs nearly brushed with each stride. She wondered if Tavish felt it too. This shift. The evolution from performance into something neither of them had planned for. His hand flexed on the reins, and she caught the tremble in his fingers before he stilled it. He was shaken. As shaken as she was, though he hid it better.

"Tavish," she started, then stopped, unsure what she'd meant to say.

He glanced at her, waiting.

"Thank ye," she finished quietly. "Fer protecting me."

"Ye dinnae need tae thank me fer that."

"I dae, though. Ye could've been killed."

"Ye too." His voice roughened. "That's what I cannae stop thinking about. How close they came tae taking ye."

"But they didnae."

"This time." He looked away, his profile stark against the grey sky. "Next time⁠—"

"There willnae be a next time. We'll be ready."

"Ye cannae ken that."

"Nay, but I can believe it." She urged her mare closer until their legs did brush, the contact grounding. "And I can trust that ye'll be there if it happens again."

Something flickered across his face. Relief? Gratitude? She couldn't name it, but it made her chest ache.

"Always," he said simply. "I'll always be there."

The promise hung between them, far heavier than the words themselves. Maighread knew what he wasn't saying. That this had stopped being about debts owed or favors rendered. That somewhere along the way, it had become personal. That leaving her now would destroy him same as it would destroy her. Neither of them spoke the truth aloud. Perhaps they weren't ready. Perhaps the fear was still too fresh, the danger too immediate. But they both knew it. The lie had become truth.

MacEwan Castle rose ahead, its walls solid and reassuring. Home. Safety. Or as much safety as existed anywhere while Keir Sinclair still drew breath. The gates swung open at their approach, guards already moving into position. Someone must have spotted them from the towers, seen the urgency of their pace. They clattered into the courtyard, horses lathered and blowing hard. Maighread's legs trembled as Tavish lifted her from the saddle, his hands steady on her waist despite the chaos erupting around them.

"What happened?" The captain of the guard appeared, taking in their bloodied state with sharp eyes. "Were ye attacked?"

"Aye." Tavish didn't release Maighread, keeping her close to his side. "Sinclair mercenaries. They tried tae abduct Lady Maighread."

Voices erupted. Questions flew. The captain barked orders, sending men to secure the gates and double the watch. Someone ran to inform the Council. Maighread felt herself swaying, the aftermath of terror finally catching up to her. Tavish's arm moved around her shoulders, supporting her weight.

"Easy, lass," he murmured into her hair. "Ye're safe now."

"I ken." But she leaned into him anyway, grateful for his solid warmth.