Page 11 of A Wife for the Highland Villain (Breaking the Highland Rules #3)

Present Day

Just as quickly as Alasdair had gotten near her, he stepped back.

“I will leave and find another room to stay in. But ye must ken this…” he said, his voice steady and clear. “In a month, ye’ll be begging me to claim ye.”

She was rooted to the spot as he crossed to the table, grabbed his white shirt, and pulled it over his head.

“Sleep well,” he added, his tone almost casual. “We’ve got a lot to get through tomorrow. Sorcha said she’s already informed ye about the elders.”

Lily only nodded, slow and silent.

Alasdair opened the door and stepped into the hall, leaving her standing alone in the moonlight, her chest rising and falling too quickly.

Why hadn’t she resisted him?

That could only mean one thing—he was beginning to break her.

Her jaw tightened, fury growing inside her. She was mad at him, and even more at herself for letting him tease her like that. She turned to the bed, grabbed a pillow, and pressed her face into it, screaming until her throat ached.

This could not happen again.

It would not.

Lily was used to waking up at first light, and her new bed had done nothing to change that, thank God. Her eyes fluttered open, and her hand moved across the sheets beside her.

For a brief moment, she thought perhaps Alasdair had slipped in again during the night, lying in wait for her. But the bed was empty, the linens cool and untouched. She let out a small sigh of relief and turned her head toward the window.

A streak of dawn ran across the horizon, gleaming bright behind the mountains and tall trees beyond. The sun would begin to warm the clouds any minute now.

Satisfied, she smiled to herself.

The night had ended without intrusion, and the day ahead would belong to her. She had a mountain of tasks ahead of her, and she planned to tackle them with as much fervor as she could muster.

She sat up and pulled her cloak around her shoulders. If she must keep her ground here, she had to begin early, before others dictated the hours for her. She cleared her throat.

The door creaked, and her head snapped up at once, her heart leaping. Had he returned?

The door opened wide, and Daisy’s figure appeared slowly. Only then did Lily exhale in relief. At least she forced herself to believe it was relief. It definitely wasn’t disappointment that it was not Alasdair.

The maid froze in the doorway, her eyes wide. “Me Lady. Ye are awake?”

“Aye,” Lily responded, trying her best to stifle a yawn.

Daisy rushed forward, wringing her hands. “I must apologize, me Lady. I was to draw ye a bath before ye woke up. I didnae expect ye to be awake already. I am sorry. I ken nay lady who wakes up this early.”

Lily’s smile widened. “Think nothing of it. I am a healer; I am used to rising with the sun and fetching herbs at their freshest.”

Daisy blinked at her, then nodded in wonder. “I will adjust the time I wake up, me Lady. Ye should never be awake before me.”

“There is nay need,” Lily said gently. “It would be an imposition.”

“‘Tis nay imposition,” Daisy insisted at once, straightening her back. “Ye are me mistress. I am here to serve ye, and serve ye I will.”

Her earnestness tugged at Lily’s heart. She gave a brief nod in response. “Very well then. Go on and draw me a bath, thank ye.”

The maid curtsied quickly, then hurried into the adjoining room, where steam soon rose with the sound of water being poured from a kettle.

Lily leaned against the headboard for a moment, listening to the maid work. However, her thoughts drifted, as they always did, to those men in the hall.

“How are the patients?” she asked after a moment.

Daisy’s rather cheerful voice carried back through the doorway. “Better, me Lady. Far better than when Dr. Moseley was in charge. Ye have done wonders. Some even say ye are saving lives the way saints do.”

Lily shook her head. “They daenae have to thank me. ‘Tis only me duty.”

“‘Tis far more than duty,” Daisy countered, peeking back into the room with damp cheeks from the steam. “‘Ye’re the lady of the clan, yet ye stoop to serve those others would forget. They ken it, me Lady. They ken ye are kind.”

Lily looked away, trying to ignore the warmth blooming in her chest. She did not wish to hear more.

When Daisy had finished preparing the bath, she dried her hands and returned to her. “Have ye chosen which dress ye’re going to wear before the council today?”

“I have,” Lily replied, gesturing toward the deep grey gown folded neatly on the edge of the bed.

Daisy’s lips parted. “That one?”

“Aye, that one.”

“But, me Lady, that was one of the dresses the Laird said to return. He willnae like to see ye in it. Nae to mention… it might nae flatter yer figure, me Lady.”

Lily’s smile sharpened. “Then it is perfect. I am sure of it.”

Daisy hesitated, then bowed her head. “If that is yer wish.”

Steam drifted into the bedchamber at that moment, filling it with the faint scent of bathing oils and petals she had dropped into the water.

Lily walked over to the bath, stripped, and sank into the water. The warmth coaxed a sigh from her lips as she leaned back and closed her eyes.

“Have ye eaten, Daisy?” she asked after a moment.

The maid flushed. “Nay, me Lady. Nae yet.”

“Then go and eat. That is an order.”

“Me Lady?—”

“Daisy.” Lily’s tone sharpened, though her eyes remained soft. “Ye have been up for a while now, and ye have spent all yer strength getting me ready. Ye will eat, or else I willnae allow ye back into the room.”

The maid’s mouth fell open, then closed. Finally, she curtsied low. “As ye command. But what of ye? Will ye take yer breakfast here, as ye did yesterday?”

Lily opened her mouth to say yes. It was easier, quieter, and more proper. But then her eyes fell on that horrid gown. The dull grey fabric mocked her. She tried to picture Alasdair’s face when he saw her in it. She could almost hear the dismay in his voice and see the furrow in his brow.

The thought thrilled her more than she would admit.

“Nay,” she said at last, her lips curving. “Nae here. I will eat in the dining hall. With the Laird.”

Daisy’s eyes lit up, though she tried to hide her smile. “Good. I will fetch ye when breakfast is ready. And I will return in time to lace ye into the gown.”

Lily waved a hand lazily. “So be it.”

The maid bobbed another curtsy, then slipped out of the room.

Lily sank deeper into the bath, the warm water lapping at her chin, but her thoughts remained focused on that dress. She pictured herself walking into the dining hall, her chin high, her shoulders squared. She pictured Alasdair’s eyes narrowing when he saw her.

She smiled to herself in the rising steam, already tasting the satisfaction.

She could not wait.

Alasdair leaned over the table, his forearms resting on the wooden surface. A roll of parchment rested before him, containing the map of the castle and its surrounding areas. Finn sat on the left with his usual ease, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he squinted at the drawings on the map.

“They will come with questions, that is for sure,” Alasdair said, tapping the edge of the parchment.

“The council havenae convened since the war ended. They willnae want to talk about it, at least nae outright. They will want to discuss caution instead and how alliances can help. And they will want to talk about her , of course, but I will shift the conversation. The war has ended. We need to start focusing on the future. I ken that.”

Finn chuckled low. “Ye ken better than everyone. Always have.”

Alasdair gave him a sharp look, but Finn only lifted his hands in jest.

“I daenae mean it as an insult, Braither. I mean only that ye speak plainly. If the council wavers, it may take yer temper to remind them who carries the sword for this clan.”

Alasdair exhaled, his jaw tightening. “It willnae be me temper. It will be the truth. If Laird MacEnroy’s men move one step further across the forest, the blood they spill willnae be mine alone to carry. The council must hear it.”

Finn leaned back, stretching his legs out beneath the table. “The war has ended. I ken that even Laird MacEnroy willnae want to do something as senseless as that. Daenae worry, the council will see yer perspective.”

Alasdair grunted. “They had better do, or else we will keep dancing in circles.”

Finn smiled faintly. “Well, I say give them the dance. At least at first.”

Before Alasdair could answer, the door creaked open.

One of the maids stepped in, bowing low. “Lady MacRay, me Laird.”

Alasdair lifted his head, frowning. “Let her in.”

The maid curtsied once more, then slipped aside.

And there she was.

Lily entered the dining hall with her chin high, her hair braided in shining coils, and her gown…

Alasdair’s lips parted.

That gown.

It was the dull grey gown he had set aside with others and told the maids to return to the seamstress at once. The color dulled her skin, and it was too tight in places and too loose in others. He had thought it unworthy of her. And yet she wore it like armor.

“Lily,” he said, his voice low. “How did ye?—”

“Daisy told me there were dresses ye thought would look unflattering. So, naturally, I asked her to bring all of them. Ye daenae mind, do ye?”

His jaw tightened. “Lily, there are several other gowns ye could have chosen.”

“I am aware,” she replied, her voice cool and sharp. “And I chose this one.”

Alasdair drew in a long breath through his nose and sat back, saying no more.

She was taunting him, that much he was aware of. He wouldn’t give in to her. At least not now.

Her eyes shifted then, away from him, and landed on Finn. Alasdair watched as a smile split her face.

“God, ye have grown,” she remarked, beaming.

Finn burst out laughing. “Ye are one to speak. Ye couldnae look older if ye tried.”

She laughed, her voice rich. “It has been ten years, Finn. Ye can tell me plainly that ye see some age on me face. I can take it.”

“If I said such a thing, it would be a lie,” Finn answered with a grin.

She shook her head, laughing again.

The sound grated in Alasdair’s chest. He had been trying for days to make her laugh. Not one smile had come soft and free. But here, with Finn, it took no more than a handful of words, and she bloomed.

He told himself it did not matter, yet something burned inside him all the same.

The maid came forward then, placing the bread and coffee on the table. Lily slipped into the seat across from him as though it were her rightful place— knowing it was her rightful place—and reached for the bread, still smiling.

“Daenae forget the meetin’,” Alasdair reminded her as he broke his bread in half. “The council will arrive before noon.”

She lifted her cup, sipped the coffee, and gave a brief nod. “I will make time and come when they are here.”

“I will expect ye to change as well,” he pressed.

Her eyes flicked to him. “And what is wrong with what I am wearin’?”

Alasdair arched an eyebrow. “Really, Lily?”

She tore her bread with pointed slowness. “If the council cannae meet me in this gown, then perhaps they daenae deserve to meet me at all.”

Finn choked on a laugh. “Now I ken ye have grown.”

She tossed her head back and laughed again, her hair shimmering like dark honey in the sunlight. She finished her bread, wiped her hands neatly on her napkin, and rose to her feet.

Alasdair’s eyes followed her despite himself. As she stepped back from the table, her gaze flicked to the bandages wrapped around his thigh.

“I am fine,” he said at once, his voice a touch harsher than he had meant.

She only nodded. “Good.” Then, she turned to Finn, who had relaxed further in his chair. “It was great to see ye again, Finn.”

And just like that, she was gone, her skirt trailing behind her as the door closed with a soft thud.

Alasdair’s hands curled into fists on the table.

Finn leaned back, his chair groaning under his weight, and let out a long sigh. “Well, Braither,” he said, amusement lacing his voice. “Now I ken ye have yer work cut out for ye.”