Page 31 of A Wife for the Highland Villain (Breaking the Highland Rules #3)

Alasdair remained standing right where he was, his eyes searching the crowd. Now wasn’t the time to drop his guard. There could still be more men loitering around the hall, waiting for him to relax once again.

It wasn’t until he was certain that they were all gone that he sheathed his blade.

He turned toward Lily, who was visibly shaken with fear, and stretched out his hand. “Come with me.”

Lily hesitated, her hand hovering as though caught between two choices.

His jaw tightened. “Come. We need to have that looked at.”

Finally, she swallowed and laid her fingers in his palm. Relief, sharp and fleeting, shot through him.

He turned to Nathan and Finn. “Clean up this mess. The body, the tables—all of it.” His eyes narrowed on Nathan. “I thought ye had this handled. We posted more guards at the doors for a reason.”

Nathan stiffened, his face grim. “I’ll speak to the guards. I daenae ken how they slipped through.”

“Find out and report back to me.”

With that, Alasdair led Lily out of the Great Hall. He didn’t look back once as they made their way to his study. When they both walked in, he closed the door gently behind them.

“Nay one is here,” he said.

Instead of responding, Lily lifted her hand to the back of her neck, wincing as she pressed gently.

“Did he hurt ye?” Alasdair asked, watching her closely.

“I’ll be fine.”

“Are ye certain?” His voice dropped.

She nodded. “I said I’ll be fine. But me neck is hardly the matter here, is it? Someone tried to murder me in the middle of the cèilidh. What in God’s name just happened?”

Alasdair exhaled. He was also struggling to make sense of what had just happened. “I daenae ken yet. But I’ll find out. I kent there were protests when I became Laird, but I never thought they would take it this far.”

Lily’s eyes snapped to him. “Wait. Did ye just say that the people werenae satisfied with ye becoming Laird?”

“Aye.” His tone was clipped. “At first, I thought it would pass. Rumors, drunken talk. But then came the archer in the woods. And now this.” He shook his head. “It makes me think…”

“Makes ye think what?”

Alasdair swallowed. The thought tasted bitter, but he couldn’t hold it back. “It makes me think that someone in this castle is helping them.”

Lily’s lips parted, and her breath caught.

“Think about it,” he pressed. “How else would they ken exactly where ye were in the woods? They had to follow ye close, ken yer steps, ken the moment to strike.”

Her hand slipped from her neck. “I told nay one except Sorcha.”

“And do ye believe Sorcha sent a man to kill ye?” he asked, his tone flat.

“Nay,” Lily said firmly. “She had nay reason to. And she couldnae have sent word so quickly. It had to be someone nearer. Someone watching.”

Alasdair could see the terror on her face and hated greatly that he had added to it, even if just a little. He moved closer to her and wrapped his arms around her.

“Ye will be fine, Lily. I willnae let anything happen to ye.”

To his surprise, and perhaps for the very first time, Lily leaned against his chest, closing her eyes.

It was not lost on Alasdair that this was the first time a moment like this had occurred between them. Especially one that wasn’t born out of passion or some heated mistake. This was just her trying to feel safe, and he was determined to do everything in his power to ensure that.

A knock shattered the moment.

Alasdair’s jaw clenched, his arms falling from her waist as Nathan stepped into the room.

“Everything is being taken care of,” Nathan said, glancing between them. “The guards are moving the bodies and clearing the hall.”

Alasdair nodded once. “Good. Keep pressing them. Someone kens how they got in, and I want their name. It has to be someone among us.”

“Aye.” Nathan’s expression tightened. “I’m questioning them now. I’ll have answers soon.”

When Nathan left, the silence returned.

Lily stepped back, smoothing down her dress. The softness Alasdair had glimpsed earlier was gone. She had reverted to her guarded self. The Lily he was familiar with.

“I shall retire too,” she said. “It has been a long night.”

Alasdair studied her. He hated the thought of her walking away, hated the idea that she would go back to her chamber and lock the door between them as though nothing had changed.

“I’d feel better if ye slept in me chambers,” he admitted. “Or if I stayed in yers. We cannae trust the threat is over.”

Her lips curled into a small smile. “I still havenae made up me mind about staying here. I’m nae sleeping in yer chambers.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Ye are. I can see it on yer face, Lily. Ye have the look of someone who kens this is her place, whether she admits it or nae.”

“Ye’re wrong.” She lifted her chin.

“I’m never wrong.”

“Does being this arrogant ever get exhausting?” she asked, the corner of her mouth twitching despite herself.

“Nae when I can back it up.”

Her laugh was soft, almost reluctant. “Goodnight, Laird MacRay.”

He stepped forward, his gaze holding hers. “Goodnight, Lady MacRay.”

She lingered for a heartbeat longer, then turned and walked out.

He stood there, listening to her footsteps fading down the hall.

For the first time that night, Alasdair released a long breath. The hall had been chaos, blades flashing and blood spilling, but none of that had shaken him the way her touch had.

The thought of her neck under a man’s blade had shattered something inside him. He would tear down the castle stone by stone if it meant keeping her safe.

And yet she still walked away.

Alasdair crossed to the window, staring out into the night where torches flickered along the walls. Somewhere below, Nathan was still questioning the guards. Somewhere in the shadows, men were whispering, plotting, waiting for the next chance.

He clenched his fists. Let them whisper. Let them plan. Whoever had put Lily’s life at risk tonight had signed their death warrant.

He would start digging as early as possible tomorrow. Someone in the castle knew something, and if Nathan was unable to find out who that person was before dawn, he would have to do it himself.

This was not a matter he could leave to chance. Not in the slightest.

He tried to shelve the thought of Lily staring up at him and the way they almost kissed. He felt his trousers tighten and exhaled.

Not now. There were more pressing matters at hand.

The sound woke her.

Sharp.

Too sharp to be part of any dream.

Her eyes snapped open, and the darkness of the room completely covered her. The room should be quiet as well. Except it wasn’t. She had heard something, that much she was sure of.

She pushed up on her elbows, listening. The silence stretched thin.

“Who is there?” Her voice cracked.

No reply.

She scanned the chamber, her heart pounding hard. The fire had died down to embers, leaving the corners shrouded in shadow. Her mouth went dry.

“Come out this instant,” she warned, though her voice shook.

Still nothing.

Then, she saw it—A shadow moving across the walls.

Her breath caught. “Show yerself!”

The cloaked figure appeared all of a sudden and ran toward her. She opened her mouth to scream. She barely gasped before the figure clapped their hand over her mouth.

“Quiet,” he hissed. His voice was low, harsh. His breath reeked of ale. “Let us see what is so special about ye, Lady MacRay.”

Her body jerked in panic, and her legs kicked hard at the air, but his grip was strong. He shoved her off the bed. She hit the floor hard, pain shooting through her shoulder.

The man loomed over her, his hand dropping to the shiny dagger strapped to his waist.

“I should take me time,” he muttered, almost with relish. “Cut the arms first, then the legs. Save the heart for last.”

“Stay away from me if ye ken what is good for ye,” she wheezed.

He only laughed in response.

Before she could protest, he pulled her to her feet and dragged her to the corner of the wall, where a table lay. Her back slammed into the table, knocking a heavy book from its place.

Her eyes widened as he raised the dagger higher.

“Please,” she tried to say, but the word died in her throat.

Her hands moved aimlessly behind her, looking for something, anything to defend herself. They settled on the spine of the book. Without thinking, she grabbed the book, brought it forward, and with all the strength left in her, slammed it hard into his face.

The crack was almost deafening.

A curse escaped his lips as he took a step back, evidently disoriented. The dagger fell from his hand, and immediately, Lily leapt for it. He dove too, but she reached it first.

He fell on top of her, straddling her just as her hand closed around the handle. She gasped for air and swung at him. The blade sliced his thigh.

He bellowed, rolling back with a groan, blood darkening his cloak.

She scrambled to her knees, her hair wild, the dagger shaking in her hand. But he rose again, limping forward. His hood slipped, enough to show his twisted teeth and the hatred in his eyes.

Before he could strike, the chamber door burst open.

“Lily!”

Her eyes widened as Alasdair stepped inside, the fire in his eyes enough to burn down a city. His eyes settled on the intruder, who seemed to realize that he was overpowered. Without wasting time, he turned and raced toward the window.

Alasdair snarled and lunged after him, but it was too late. The figure jumped and disappeared just as he had come.

Alasdair swore, gripping the frame with both hands. “He is gone.”

Lily pushed herself up. Her breathing was ragged, and her chest was heaving. She could not let go of the dagger.

Her eyes darted to him. “Who is he?”

Alasdair turned and strode toward her. “Are ye hurt?” His hands moved over her arms, her face, checking her for injuries.

She shook her head, though her voice wavered. “Nay, nae hurt. Just shaken.”

“Did he cut ye?” he pressed.

“Nay.” Her breath hitched. “But Alasdair—he tried to kill me. In me own bed!”

“I will find out who did it. Whoever he is, he willnae get close again.”

Her fingers gripped his tunic tightly. “Ye cannae promise that. He snuck in once. He can do it again.”

“Then he will find me waiting,” Alasdair said firmly, his eyes blazing.

Her breath caught at the certainty in his voice.

“Ye truly think this is over?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Nay. This is only the start. But ye’re safe now.”

She rested her forehead against his chest. She could feel his heart hammering against her cheek. His fingers threaded through her hair, brushing it back with rare gentleness.

“Ye’re trembling,” he murmured.

“Of course I am,” she whispered. “He said he’d cut me into pieces.”

His hand cupped her jaw, forcing her to meet his eyes. “But he didnae. Because ye fought. Ye struck him. Ye lived.”

Her lips parted. “Ye think I was brave?”

“I ken it.”

The conviction in his voice pierced through her fear.

Her gaze locked on his, searching, questioning. “Alasdair…”

“Aye?” His voice was low.

She did not answer. Instead, she pressed her lips to his.

The kiss was gentle, almost as gentle as the night itself before the disaster. His hands roamed down her back and settled on her waist as he pulled her closer to him.

Perhaps it was merely the way he had held her or the fear from what had just happened, but she suddenly shuddered against him.

“‘Tis all right,” he whispered, his voice soothing yet filled with hunger. “Ye’re all right.”

Lily nodded once as he led her to the bed. She might not have seen the end of her attacker, but Alasdair was here. And for the rest of the night, she didn’t intend to think of anything else.