Page 14 of The Laird's Dark Obsession

Calum finally stirred, on his feet and pacing about while still maintaining his distance. He wasn’t about to waste theopportunity to get even a sliver of information about their formidable enemy.

“Does he have any attacks planned at the moment?” Calum queried.

“How would I ken that? I’ve been at Clan Barclay for nearly a fortnight.”

“Dinnae play daft, Kira,” he warned. “Before ye left. Was there anything in the works?”

She eyed him carefully, noticing the slip in calling her by her given name. While Kira had never known him well, she knew enough to know that he wasn’t a man of such sensitivity. It was her and all that she symbolized that invoked such visceral reactions from all at Galbraith Keep. It was her last scrap of luck, she feared, that Edine had given her that brief moment of friendship.

“Do ye really think he tells me anything?” Kira mused.

“Just because he does nae tell ye does nae mean ye dinnae hear anything.”

She shrugged and tapped her fingertips against her chin. “I heard a lot around the Keep. How am I meant to ken what is of value to ye?”

Calum groaned and proceeded to unfurl question after question. Kira didn’t have the right to take enjoyment out of his frustration, but she couldn’t help but be a little amused by his adamance. He had been stonewalling her for a couple of hours and just at the slight chance of getting something useful out of her, he was a dog with a bone.

After one too many evasive answers, Calum was finally losing his patience. He knocked his chair over and placed his hands on his hips, staring at the wall while he tried to rein in his emotions. Then, his cold eyes slid over to her.

“Ye’re going to tell me something, Kira. I’m nae longer playing games with ye.” His eyes narrowed. “Tell me about his prisoners. Do ye ken of anyone in the dungeons? Tell me. Tell menow.”

Kira’s eyes stared at the wooden chair toppled onto the floor. She hadn’t flinched or yelped externally, but something inside of her was crying. Just how many rooms had she been in where men had pushed chairs, thrown cups, and slammed doors to show their rage? And how many times could she be certain it was merely a way of physically letting go of tension instead of a silent promise of violence?

Her longing for companionship was snuffed out like a candle. A familiar chill ran through her as her mind detached and her face fell to a flat expression.

“I will never provide the information ye want out of intimidation or force—”

Calum huffed. “So, ye admit it. Ye’re loyal to yer faither—”

She snapped, rising to her feet as she locked eyes with him. “I am loyal to myself. Nae to any man, let alone the man who raised me. Get out.” she ordered. “And if Hunter wishes to have information, he can ask me himself.”

Calum stared at her, dumbfounded. Then, with another huff, he left the room, letting the door slam behind him. Kira noticed only then that her hands were shaking, but certainly not from fear. Laird Fairbairn, her own father, had shown her the ins and outs of terror and pain, and it would take far more than a tossed chair for her to react.

No, her hands were trembling from rage. Rage because Calum tried to intimidate her, rage because she had lost her composure, rage because she was once again in that room alone for however long—and rage because she knew she wouldneverescape the tormented shadow of her father.

She wanted to scream, to smash things, to be the one for once to let out some of that tension that was piling up inside of her. But she couldn’t, not there—not anywhere.

Kira sank back down onto the bed and clutched her pillow, squeezing it to her chest and letting her finger nails dig into the fabric hard enough that it was uncomfortable. She smothered it and bit her lip.

What a foolish, troublesome life I live. Already past my twentieth year of life and still having to take my emotions out on my pillow, she mused internally.

It was only when she tasted a drop of blood that she let go. Relaxing her arms and releasing her lip, there was a little relief; at least, enough to stop her hands from shaking.

Just then, there were boots outside the door and she braced herself for Calum to come back in, assuming he had only stepped away to compose himself. When the door opened, however, she saw Hunter sauntering inside instead of his loyal lapdog.

A quick analysis of his face let her know that he was irritated at best and she had to resist the urge to grab her pillow for another squeeze.

“What do ye want?” Kira mumbled, rising from the bed and pacing toward the window.

“Calum said ye’d be willing to forfeit information if the request came from me directly. This is my request,” he stated plainly.

She didn’t look over at him, her eyes stayed on the endless sky before her. It was overcast and wasn’t much to look at, but she would rather go blind from staring at the bright clouds than look at the hate in his eyes right then.

“Aye, I’ll give the information,” she said, her voice void of emotion. “Nae for free, though.”

“Ye expect me to payye?” he spat.

“Nae monetarily. With freedoms—permissions.”