Page 91 of Under the Laird’s Promise

She stopped, straightening her spine. "Gentlemen. Was there something ye needed?"

Malcolm stepped forward, his weathered face carefully neutral. "A word, if ye would, Lady Maighread. Privately."

The corridor was already private, empty of servants or guards. But she understood the request. They wanted no interruptions, no witnesses to whatever conversation they'd planned. So they moved to a chamber nearby.

"Of course." She folded her hands in front of her, projecting calm she didn't entirely feel. "Speak freely."

The three men exchanged glances. Some silent communication passed between them before Dougal cleared his throat.

"We've been discussing the situation with young MacBain," he began. "His continued presence here. The betrothal ye've claimed."

"What about it?"

"We have concerns," Ewan said bluntly. "About the wisdom of binding yerself tae a man ye barely ken. About the influence he's gaining within the household. About whether this match truly serves the clan's interests."

Maighread felt heat prickle along her spine. "Tavish MacBain has proven himself repeatedly since arriving at MacEwan lands. He's protected me from Keir's schemes, helped secure the loyalty of border villages, and fought alongside our men when we were attacked. What more proof of his value dae ye require?"

"We dinnae question his usefulness in the immediate crisis," Malcolm said carefully. "But binding yerself tae him permanently is another matter entirely. There are other matches we could pursue. Alliances that would bring more significant military support or political advantage."

"Ye mean matches with men who'd expect to absorb MacEwan lands intae their own holdings." Maighread's voice turned sharp. "Men who'd see me as a convenient path tae expansion rather than a partner."

"Nae all potential matches would require such sacrifice," Dougal countered. "There are honorable men who'd respect yer position as heir."

"Name one."

Silence.

"Exactly." Maighread crossed her arms. "Every name ye've suggested in the past year has been someone looking to expand their territory or influence. Men who'd see marrying me as acquiring property, nae gaining a wife."

"And MacBain is different?" Ewan's tone carried skepticism. "What makes ye so certain his motives are pure?"

"His actions." The answer came swift and certain. "He's had multiple opportunities to exploit this situation for personal gain. He could've demanded political concessions in exchange fer his protection. Could've leveraged the betrothal tae secure advantages fer his own clan. He's done none of those things."

"Aye," Malcolm said quietly. "He's done none of those things yet. But once the marriage is legitimate, once ye're bound by law and church, what prevents him from changing course?"

"His honor. His character." Maighread met each man's eyes in turn. "I've seen him fight. Watched how he treats those beneath his station. Observed how he speaks tae me, with respect. That tells me far more about his intentions than any political calculation could."

"Respect is admirable," Dougal said. "But it daesnae guarantee he'll put MacEwan interests above his own clan's needs when conflicts arise."

"He already has. When he chose to stay after the first attack instead of returning to MacBain lands. When he wrote to his brother requesting support without demanding anything in return." Maighread's hands tightened on her arms. "Tavish MacBain has proven his loyalty to me and to this clan repeatedly. I willnae entertain suggestions that he's somehow unworthy or untrustworthy simply because he daesnae bring a massive dowry or political alliance."

The three men exchanged another round of meaningful looks. Malcolm's expression had shifted from neutral to something almost resigned.

"We're nae questioning MacBain's competence," he said finally. "Nor his actions thus far. But Lady Maighread, ye must understand our position. Yer faither is failing. The clan needs certainty about succession, about leadership. A marriage based on… sudden attachment rather than careful political consideration gives us pause."

"Sudden attachment?" Maighread's eyebrows rose. "Is that what ye think this is?"

"Isnae it?" Ewan's tone gentled slightly. "Lass, we've kenned ye since ye were a bairn. We've watched ye grow intae a sharp, pragmatic leader. Ye've never been one tae act on impulse or emotion. Yet here ye are, defending a match ye claimed in desperation on a roadside, insisting it's the right choice despite all political logic suggesting otherwise."

"Political logic would see me married tae Keir Sinclair or someone equally intent on erasing MacEwan independence," Maighread shot back. "Fergive me if I prefer a man who actually values what I bring beyond me lands."

"We understand that," Malcolm said. "We dae. But from where we stand, this looks less similar tae political strategy and more similar tae… He trailed off, seeming to search for the right word.

"Affection," Dougal finished. "It appears tae be a match based on affection rather than politics. And while that's… positive… in normal circumstances, these are nae normal times. We need cold calculation, nae warm feelings."

Maighread felt heat flood her cheeks, anger and embarrassment warring in her chest.

"Me feelings or lack thereof are irrelevant," she said, her voice tight. "What matters is that Tavish MacBain is the best choice fer this clan's future. He's proven himself capable, loyal, and trustworthy. If ye cannae see that, perhaps the failing lies with yer judgment, nae mine."