Page 30 of Promised to the Cursed Laird

"That's a fine distinction ye're drawing."

"It's the only one I've got tonight." He held the door for her. "Rest, Neilina. We'll talk properly on the morrow…nae over stew, nae in front of the whole hall. Just us."

She stopped in the doorway, looked back at him, and for a moment he thought she'd argue it, the way she argued everything, and instead she only nodded, once, and said, low, "Thank ye. For finding me."

"I'll always find ye," he said, before he could weigh whether that was a wise thing to say aloud. He watched her register it before she turned and let the door close between them.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

He found Lachlan in the small hall with a cup of wine he hadn't touched and an expression that suggested he'd been waiting a while.

"Ye look," Lachlan said, "like a man who's had a verra long day."

"I've had a verra long day." Marcas dropped into the chair across from him and reached for the jug. "She wants naething tae do with this marriage, Lachlan. Nae the marriage, nae me, nae a single thing about the last three days that I've had any hand in arranging."

"Ye announced a wedding date over stew, in front of the whole hall, tae a woman ye met four days ago." Lachlan said it without heat, which somehow made it worse. "How did ye think that would land?"

"The council needed a date."

"The council didnae need ye tae give it tae her like a man reading out a tax assessment." Lachlan leaned back, turning his cup slowly. "Ye're a good laird, Marcas. Ye're a fair one. But ye've spent fifteen years telling men what's tae happen and having them do it, and it's made ye verra bad at telling a woman anything at all."

"She's nae one of my men."

"Aye, I'd noticed." His voice was dry. "Which is my whole point. Ye cannae order her tae trust ye the way ye order a garrison tae hold a wall. She'll nae obey her way intae wanting this marriage. If ye mean tae have her…truly have her, nae just have the Accord satisfied, ye'll need tae earn her trust before anything else. And I dinnae think ye've tried earning anything from a woman in yer life. Ye've only ever needed tae be obeyed."

Marcas turned that over, because it landed harder than he wanted it to, mostly because it was true.

"And how would ye suggest I go about that," he said, "given that every attempt I've made so far has ended with her either running or locking herself in a room."

"I dinnae ken." Lachlan shrugged. "Show her something true about yerself she cannae get from Fearchar or Cailleach or anyone else telling her what tae think of ye. Let her see ye're nae just the laird who took her. Let her see the man." A pause, and something quieter came into his voice. "Ye've never let anyone see that man, Marcas. Nae since yer father."

Marcas didn't answer that. He was still turning it over, still deciding whether he had it in him to do what Lachlan was suggesting, when boots came fast down the corridor and one of the door guards appeared, breathing hard.

"Laird. She's tried the door three times now. Says she'll nae be locked in like a prisoner a second night."

Marcas was up before the man finished.

He found her exactly as reported, pacing the width of the small chamber, restless in a way that had nothing left of the exhaustion from earlier, all of it burned off into something sharper.

"MacKinnon." She stopped when he entered, chin coming up. "I willnae sit in a room with guards at the door and call it a favor. I've spent the past few days being told which rooms I'm permitted tae occupy and I'll nae do it another night without at least understanding why."

He looked at her a long moment. Then he crossed to the window, checked the night beyond it. It was clear and cold, the moon near full over the water. He made a decision that surprised him rather more than it should have.

"Get yer cloak," he said.

She stared at him. "What."

"Yer cloak. I'm nae locking ye in tonight, Neilina. I'm taking ye somewhere."

The battlements were cold and empty at that hour, the wind coming hard off the sea, and he watched her go still at the top of the stair the way she'd gone still at the sight of MacKinnon land from the tree line that morning but it was not fear this time. Something closer to awe, though she'd likely deny it if he said anything.

The whole of his territory lay spread beneath them in the moonlight. The cliffs fell away to black water, the dark line of forest stretched inland, and the scattered lights of the village glimmered below the walls. She walked to the parapet and simply looked at it for a long while without speaking, her hair pulling loose from its braid in the wind, her cloak snapping at her ankles.

"It's beautiful," she said quietly, like she resented admitting it.

"Aye." He came to stand beside her, close enough to speak without raising his voice over the wind. "I come up here most nights when I can. It's the one place in this whole stronghold naebody expects tae find their laird, which means it's the one place naebody troubles me with anything."

"And yet ye've brought me tae it."