Page 27 of A Wife for the Highland Villain (Breaking the Highland Rules #3)

Alasdair sat in his study and placed his hands on the desk. Laid out before him were maps of the terrain, but he couldn’t be less interested in any of them.

None of the papers managed to capture his attention. At least not for now. His eyes traced them again and again, but his thoughts were elsewhere.

His mind flashed to the attack they had barely survived and the rumors Finn and Nathan had heard in the village. For some reason, everything had put him on edge, and he was growing more paranoid every day.

The door swung open, and he instantly reached for the dagger beside his hand. His eyes snapped up, and surprise flashed across his face.

It wasn’t an intruder. It was only Lily.

Her face was contorted with fury, and her chest rose and fell as though she had come running.

“So, it is true?” she demanded, her voice sharp enough to slice the air. “Ye are canceling the cèilidh?”

Alasdair pushed himself to his feet. “What?”

“Daenae play the fool,” she shot back, stepping further into the room. “I heard it. Tell me if it is true. Are ye canceling it or nae?”

Alasdair’s eyebrows knitted together. “Where did ye hear such a thing?”

“That doesnae matter,” she snapped. “Answer me.”

He swallowed and tried to calm her. “Lily?—”

Her hand flew up to silence him.

“God help me,” she muttered, her voice cracking with a mix of anger and disbelief. “It is true. Ye are canceling it. After making me invite me sisters? After letting me write to them? Brigid is already on her way here, Alasdair. She will be here with her husband in moments.”

Alasdair stepped closer, his palms raised in defense. “Ye need to relax.”

Her eyes flashed with fire. “Nay. Ye daenae get to say that to me if this is what ye are planning. Tell me, what do I say to me sister when she arrives? ‘ Oh, I apologize for making ye come all this way, Brigid, but the cèilidh has been canceled because the Laird felt like it ?’ Shall I say that?”

He swallowed, feeling a wave of despair wash over him. “Nay, ye daenae understand?—”

“Ye are right,” she cut in. “I daenae understand. Because every time I try to give ye an inch, ye prove to me ye have some hidden motive.”

Alasdair’s jaw tightened, and he closed the space between them. “I have never hidden me motives. I brought ye here to be me wife. That has always been the plan from the get-go. Nae once did that plan change.”

“And I told ye I cannae be that.”

“Why?” he pressed.

“Because I already lived through this once,” she shot back. Her voice cracked, but her eyes were blazing. “And I ken how it ends.”

His chest heaved. “Ten years ago, I wasnae the laird of a castle, Lily. Things have changed. I have changed. Surely, ye must see that.”

She scoffed, shaking her head. “And to think, I was beginning to—” She broke off.

Alasdair’s eyes narrowed. “Beginning to what?”

Her gaze darted away. “It doesnae matter, ye have already done what ye wanted—ye canceled the cèilidh.”

“Nay.” His voice rang out like iron against stone. “Nay one is canceling anything. The cèilidh will take place.”

She froze. Then, she looked up and blinked at him. “What?”

“I daenae plan to cancel the cèilidh, Lily.”

“Ye mean that?”

He nodded firmly. “Aye. The soldiers fought hard, and in case ye havenae noticed, many of them died. The least I can do is give the survivors a night to celebrate their victory. They earned it. And I willnae take it from them.”

Lily exhaled, her fury softening into silence. Her chest rose and fell. “I… I am sorry,” she mumbled. “Sorry for snapping at ye and for nae letting ye speak.”

A smirk tugged his lips, and he leaned closer. “Ye seem to have a habit of doing that, do ye nae?”

Her head snapped up. “A habit?”

“Aye. I took a feisty wife,” he teased.

Her eyes flashed again. “Stop calling me that.”

He groaned and turned away. “Oh, Christ, ‘tis this old song again.”

But before he could take more than a step, her voice stopped him. “Nay, daenae do that. Daenae turn yer back on me.”

He froze and glanced over his shoulder. “Earlier, ye said ye kept giving me an inch. But did ye truly give me anything, or are ye only telling yerself that?”

She blinked. “What?”

“Ye have been ignoring me all week, have ye nae?” he asked.

A nervous laugh slipped past her lips. “That is nae true.”

“Daenae lie to me, Lily,” he said flatly.

“I am nae blind. I ken what ye are doing, and I let ye because perhaps what happened in the cave was too much for ye. Perhaps ye needed time to think. But then I find ye watching me train, yer eyes fixed on me as though ye couldnae look away. And now, here ye are again, storming into me study.”

Her lips parted, but no words came out.

“Ye say ye want nothing to do with me,” Alasdair continued, his voice low and steady, “yet ye cannae rid yerself of me, can ye? Ye tell me ye daenae want to be near me, yet ye flirt, ye catch me attention, and ye make sure I cannae look away.”

The silence between them burned hotter than fire.

Alasdair turned to fully face her, his chest heaving. “So tell me, Lily. What do ye want?”

She shook her head. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” His eyes bored into hers. “Can ye honestly tell me ye have stopped thinking about that evening in the cave? Because I havenae.”

Color bloomed across her cheeks. Her lips parted as though she wanted to protest, but no words came out.

He stepped closer, so close that he could hear her ragged breathing. “Tell me ye arenae thinking of me, and I will stop,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper.

“Alasdair—” she breathed.

“Say it,” he murmured. “Say it, and I will stop.”

Before she could, the sound of a throat clearing broke the spell.

They both whipped their heads toward the door. Nathan stood there, his eyes lowered politely. “Forgive me. I was looking for Lady MacRay.”

Lily’s cheeks flamed red. “Me?”

“Aye, me Lady. Yer sister has arrived. She is in the dining hall.”

Lily gasped. “Brigid is here?”

Nathan nodded.

Her face lit up, and without another word, she swept past both men and out the door.

Nathan stepped further into the study. “Me Laird.”

Alasdair’s jaw clenched. “What would me braither have done in this situation?”

Nathan hesitated. “The former Laird would have canceled the cèilidh.”

Alasdair nodded grimly. “That is Jeremiah. He never liked taking risks.”

“Aye,” Nathan agreed. “He was… conscious of safety.”

Alasdair turned back to the maps, his fists clenched at his sides. “Well, I am nae Jeremiah, and I willnae cower. Lily’s sister is here now, and I willnae send her away. I am already on thin ice as it is.”

Nathan cocked his head, his brow furrowed in mild confusion. “Me Laird, what are ye?—”

“We will post more guards at the entrances,” Alasdair continued, cutting him off. “We will search every guest for weapons if need be. But the cèilidh will take place, and that is final.”

“Me Laird?—”

“I would rather ye daenae fight me on this, Nathan.”

Nathan hesitated, then bowed his head. “As ye like, me Laird.”

He turned and left, the door clicking shut behind him.

Alasdair walked back to his seat and braced his hands on the desk. His eyes fell on the maps, though he barely saw them. Trouble was coming; he could feel it.

He only hoped—no, prayed he was prepared for it.

Lily ran down the passageway, the excitement on her face so intense that even a blind man could feel it. She nodded to the maids who greeted her and eventually exhaled when she found the door to the dining hall.

She walked in, her eyes peeled until they eventually settled on her sister. She ran to her, her eyes twinkling with joy.

“Brigid!” she exclaimed, gripping her tightly. “Ye came earlier than I expected.”

Brigid squeezed her back with equal force, laughing softly into her shoulder. “Aye, we did. Conall had business near the border, so we thought to come straight away. I thought it’d be a great idea to surprise ye.”

“Well, surprised I am,” Lily said, stepping back to look at her sister’s face. She took in her fuller cheeks and the faint glow that Brigid always seemed to carry. “How long will ye stay?”

“As long as ye’ll have us,” Brigid answered, beaming. Then, she leaned back to look Lily over from head to toe. “God above, ye’ve grown into yerself, Lily. Look at ye now.”

Lily rolled her eyes, though warmth spread through her chest. “Listen to ye, talking as if ye’re nae the youngest. And like I wasnae in yer castle just a few weeks ago!”

Brigid laughed, loud and unashamed, and Conall cleared his throat.

Lily turned to him at once, opened her arms, and hugged him. “Forgive me, Conall, for nae greeting ye sooner.”

“Nay need,” he said, his voice calm and even. He rested a hand on her shoulder as she stepped back. “I understand. Besides, ye’ve made quite the name for yerself here. I’ve already heard talk.”

“‘Tis nothing,” Lily said quickly, waving her hand dismissively. “I’m only serving as a healer, nay more.”

Conall’s brow creased. “That is nae what we were told.”

Her smile faltered. “And what were ye told?”

Before Conall could respond, Brigid lifted her hand. “Let us nae spoil this moment with needless talk. ‘Tis a happy day, Lily. We’re together again.”

Lily exhaled and nodded. “Aye, ye’re right.” She changed the subject again, deciding not to linger on what had happened already. “Have the maids seen to ye? Did they take yer things?”

“They did,” Brigid said. “Though they’re all in the kitchen now, fussing about dinner. And we both ken that means we have at least an hour or two before anything makes its way to the table. Until then, we need to talk.”

Lily opened her mouth to respond, but a deep voice carried across the hall, freezing the words in her mouth. “Talk about what?”

Her back stiffened, and she turned to see Alasdair stepping inside.

Conall greeted him first, giving a polite bow of his head. “Laird MacRay.”

Alasdair inclined his head. “Laird MacKane.”

Brigid’s eyes widened as she looked at him. “Good Lord above, Alasdair. Ye’ve grown. Ye’re nae the boy I remember.”

Alasdair gave her that half-smile Lily both dreaded and loved. “Ye’re one to speak.”

“That is exactly what I said,” Lily spoke up, the vindication in her voice evident.

Alasdair laughed. “I remember when ye could barely lift a basket of fish without dropping half of it on the dock.”

Brigid’s cheeks flushed. “That was ten years ago, Alasdair. Ye did not need to bring that up.”

The three of them laughed together, the sound echoing warmly through the dining hall.

“It truly is good to see ye again,” Alasdair added, his voice softening.

Brigid nodded, then lowered her voice. “I’m sorry Valerie and Megan couldnae come. ‘Tis too risky for Valerie to travel, and Megan stayed behind to care for her.”

“That matters little,” Alasdair said. “They’ll be missed, aye, but daenae fret. If Megan were here, she’d likely bite me ear off before the night was over.”

Brigid burst into laughter. “That she would.”

Conall, who had been watching Alasdair carefully, cleared his throat again. “There are matters I would like to discuss with ye, Laird MacRay. In private, if ye’ll allow it.”

Alasdair did not hesitate. “Of course. We’ll use me study.”

Conall bent, pressed a kiss to Brigid’s cheek, and promised to return before the meal. She gave his arm a squeeze in reply, and then he and Alasdair retreated, leaving the two sisters alone.

The hall grew quieter once the men’s footsteps faded, and Brigid turned to Lily, her eyebrow arched. “I hope I’m nae stealing ye away from yer work in the hall.”

“Nae at all,” Lily said with a small wave of her hand. “The maids can manage without me for a while.”

“Still delegating,” Brigid teased, putting her hands on her hips. “I see ye havenae changed at all.”

Lily smirked. “And how else would ye, Valerie, and Megan have learned anything at all if I didnae make ye do the chores?”

“Daenae flatter yerself,” Brigid huffed, though her grin gave her away.

Lily felt her chest loosen. It was strange how easy it was to slip back into the usual rhythm with her sister; it was like the years apart had been no more than days.

Brigid exhaled and touched her lower back with a wince. “First things first. We need to talk somewhere comfortable. I have been jostled in that carriage for hours, and me back feels as stiff as the castle gates.”

“Come then,” Lily said quickly. She turned and called softly to a maid who lingered nearby. “Take Lady MacKane’s bag to the guest chambers.”

The maid curtsied, lifted the small satchel, and hurried ahead.

Brigid looped her arm through Lily’s as they followed. “Ye have done well, Lily,” she whispered. “I can see it already.”

Lily swallowed, unsure what to say, so she only squeezed her sister’s arm as they made their way through the castle.