Page 20 of The Laird's Masked Passion

Colin’s mouth nearly moved. “And Domhnall?”

“Still in St. Andrews when I rode out. Margaret was safe. He stayed tae make certain the guests and servants got clear. Theman has a heroic fondness fer making himself useful where he might instead be pleasant.”

“That sounds like Domhnall.”

“It daes. He also said that if ye were dead, he would be deeply inconvenienced, as he has grown accustomed tae disapproving of ye in person.”

For a breath, the darkness seemed less hostile. Colin felt, unwillingly, the old shape of them: himself, Niall, Domhnall, and Ruaridh, four men tied by Crown games, dangerous marriages, blood debts, and a friendship none of them had the poor taste to name too often. There had been years when Colin trusted very little beyond the reach of his own sword. Somehow, these men had become an exception, a dangerous indulgence… also a necessary one.

“The Crown?” Colin asked.

Niall’s face hardened. “Furious.”

“They permitted the auction.”

“They didnae permit a cathedral attack before witnesses.” His tone sharpened with dry contempt. “Their pride bleeds worse than any man wounded today. They want names, prisoners and the Masquerade kept useful and quiet, nae dragged screaming intae St. Andrews with armed men in black.”

“Then they should have kept Fraser from selling what wasnae his.”

Niall’s brows lifted slightly. Colin looked away first, irritated by what he had revealed.

“Ah,” Niall breathed.

“Dinnae.”

“I said naething.”

Colin gave him a look.

Niall wisely returned to the matter. “By dawn, ye can move north. I saw nay riders on the lower road, and the eastern track is being watched by Crown men too angry tae sleep. If Munro sent those men, he will ken by now that he failed. He may wait tae see what proof rises before striking again.”

“Or strike harder before proof can rise.”

“Aye.”

The burn whispered between them. Somewhere beyond the tent, the horse shifted and settled again. Colin listened to the woods, to the quiet, to every small betrayal of night. Nothing moved now that should not move.

“Ye should rest,” Niall urged.

Colin looked at him.

“I withdraw the suggestion,” Niall added. “It was reckless and sentimental.”

“Elspeth needs sleep.”

“Then let her have it. I will watch until first light.”

Colin did not answer immediately. Trusting another man with his life was one matter. Trusting him with Elspeth nearby felt different, though Niall had done nothing to deserve suspicion. That was the trouble. The day made possession of a woman lawful, danger made it instinctive and guilt made it unbearable.

Niall’s gaze softened by the smallest degree. “She is safe, Colin.”

The words struck too near the bruise.

“Nay one is safe until Munro is dead.”

“Nay,” Niall agreed. “But she is safer than she was in that church.”

Colin looked toward the tent again. In his mind, he saw Elspeth with the dirk in her hand, fear in her eyes and pride in her chin, ready to run only because he had ordered it and ready to disobey him the instant conscience required.