14: ON A KNIFE EDGE

SILENCE ECHOED THROUGH the bedchamber.

It was as quiet as a chapel, and all eyes were on Lennox.

Swallowing to ease the sudden tightness in his throat, and the panic that was bubbling up, Lennox ignored them all save Davina.

Her reaction was the only one that mattered.

He couldn’t believe he’d just made that offer.

He hadn’t planned it—and in fact, if he’d considered the idea earlier, he’d have talked himself out of it.

But now that the words had left his mouth, he couldn’t call them back.

And as his gaze held Davina’s, he found he didn’t want to.

Somehow, this decision felt like the right one.

He knew it, deep in the marrow of his bones.

Davina Campbell didn’t look as convinced—and neither did his men.

“Mackay,” Hamish muttered, dragging a hand down his face.

“Have ye lost yer wits?”

Lennox shook his head.

“No, I’m using them to find a solution to our lady’s predicament.”

“Ye are kind indeed to offer me sanctuary amongst yer clan, Captain,” Davina said, her voice husky.

“But yer brother might not be as welcoming as ye believe.”

Lennox smiled.

“Iver Mackay will not turn away a woman in need,” he said as warmth suffused his chest. Aye, his brother was a good man—the best of them in many ways.

“Ye know he is recently wed, and his wife, Bonnie, will want a companion her own age. They will all welcome ye. Ye will be safe at Dun Ugadale, protected.”

And as he said these words, Lennox believed them.

Even on the last occasion he’d seen his brother, in the courtyard of Kilchurn, Iver had told him he’d always be welcome at Dun Ugadale.

At the time, Lennox hadn’t cared, for he’d been determined to carve a new path for himself, away from his family.

The brothers’ relationship had grown strained over the past years, and Iver had been hurt by Lennox’s decision to take up the position at Kilchurn.

But he hadn’t burned any bridges as he’d left Lennox behind.

Aye, it would be a blow to Lennox’s pride to return to Dun Ugadale and ask this of his brother—but he’d do it.

And not just for Davina, but for himself.

It’s time to go home.

The realization made his pulse quicken.

He couldn’t lie to himself any longer.

Dun Ugadale was where he belonged.

Lennox turned his attention then to his men.

They were all watching him with a mix of disbelief—and something else.

Was he imagining it, or was there warmth in their eyes as they regarded him, respect?

After months of standoffishness, of following orders under sufferance, the men he led had finally accepted him.

“Colin Campbell won’t like this,” Hamish pointed out then.

“I doubt he’ll care,” Davina murmured.

Yet her gaze never shifted from Lennox.

“I’m dead to him, remember?”

“Aye, but that doesn’t mean he won’t have an opinion on where ye end up,” Hamish replied, folding heavily muscled arms across his chest.

Lennox was inclined to agree with him.

“It’s best ye tell Campbell that taking Lady Davina to Dun Ugadale was wholly my idea,” he advised him.

“I will escort the lady to my brother’s broch, while the rest of ye return to Kilchurn. When ye see Campbell, tell him that she will be well looked after.”

“And what about ye, Captain?” Hamish’s heavy brow furrowed.

“Will ye follow us home after leaving Lady Davina at Dun Ugadale?”

A pause followed.

“No,” he replied. “It’s best ye let Campbell know that he will need to find himself another captain.” Lennox glanced at Davina once more.

She was still observing him.

Her expression was veiled, yet her eyes were bright.

There was something in her look that unnerved him.

Over the past few days, the woman had revealed that she saw what others didn’t.

Lennox found it difficult to hide from her; somehow, she always pierced his defenses.

“Of course, the choice is yers, my lady,” he said, his mouth lifting at the corners.

He hated the idea of her remaining here in Oban to scratch a living—but the final word had to come from her.

“Will ye come with me to Dun Ugadale?”

Their stare drew out, and Lennox began to wonder if she would decline.

She was proud, after all.

He too could be prideful and knew just how hard it was to accept help from others, even when it was well-meant.

But then her small rosebud mouth lifted into a half-smile.

“Yer offer is a kind one indeed, Captain … and only a goose-witted lass would refuse it.” She paused then, her gaze warming.

“I will go with ye.”

“Campbell will be as vexed as a swatted hornet when he hears of this, Mackay.” Hamish stepped close as Lennox finished saddling the heavyset gelding—Elliot’s horse—cinching the girth tight.

The gelding stomped an impatient feathered hoof, narrowly missing Lennox’s foot.

“He will believe ye have compromised his daughter.”

Lennox glanced over his shoulder.

The man’s gaze gleamed in the dim light inside the stables.

Dawn had just broken.

Outside, it was misty and cool, yet the weather had settled.

It was time for all of them to move on.

“I’m aware of that,” he replied with an answering frown.

“However, I trust ye will assure him that isn’t the case.”

“I will,” Hamish rumbled.

“But ye know what Colin is like. When it comes to his daughter, he doesn’t see straight … he never has. His wife only ever bore him one bairn, although he never complained about that. Davina was once the light of his life … his wee shadow. She followed him everywhere, and he taught her how to ride, how to hunt.” The warrior halted then as if embarrassed by his frankness.

“And yet he’s been so harsh with her,” Lennox replied.

Hamish huffed a sigh.

“Aye, unfortunately, his daughter grew up. When he discovered her affair with Cameron, he felt betrayed.” Hamish shook his head.

“But that doesn’t mean he hates his daughter … on the contrary, perhaps he loves her too much.”

Lennox’s frown deepened.

“Thank ye for the warning, Hamish,” he replied.

“I will write to Campbell when we arrive at Dun Ugadale, assuring him that Davina is safe and well.”

The look on Hamish’s face told him that wouldn’t likely be enough.

Nonetheless, there was nothing else Lennox could do.

Campbell had washed his hands of Davina, and Lennox wouldn’t let her suffer because of it.

Leading his horse out of the stables, Lennox found the rest of their party, including Davina, waiting for him.

Clad in a hooded woolen cloak, her pale, heart-shaped face was set in an expression of grim resolve.

Lennox’s chest tightened just a little.

He didn’t want to push her into anything, but surely Davina would realize this was the best choice—the only choice?

“Are we all ready?” he asked, his gaze sweeping the amassed company.

His men had all saddled up and were ready to go.

He and Davina would be riding together on Elliot’s gelding, while the warrior would ride Davina’s palfrey back to Kilchurn.

They nodded, although their faces were all solemn, as if they all knew there would be ramifications for this act.

Lennox understood that too.

Nothing any of them did was without consequence.

Like throwing a pebble into a still pond, there would be ripples—there always were.

But at least this way, Davina would be spared humiliation and suffering.

This way, her father would at least know that she was safe.

They left Oban without fanfare, the hollow clip-clop of their horses’ hooves loud on the wet road.

The company wouldn’t part ways for a day at least, not until the road forked, at which point, Hamish would lead the other warriors east toward Loch Awe, while Lennox and Davina pushed south for the Kintyre peninsula.

Davina perched behind Mackay, her arms looped loosely around his waist. They rode in silence, and she was grateful that he wasn’t in a chatty mood this morning.

She wished to retreat into her own thoughts, to ready herself for parting ways with the rest of her escort and accompanying Mackay to Dun Ugadale.

Nervousness fluttered in her belly, like someone had just let a sack of moths loose, whenever she dwelt on the situation.

Have I made another mistake?

She’d taken so many missteps of late that she no longer trusted her own judgment.

Perhaps it would have been better to remain in Oban and swallow her pride before looking for work.

This choice could end up making things worse for her.

She was trying not to lean against Mackay as they rode, although the jolting step of their horse threw them together with every stride.

His body was tense, and she could feel the determination in him.

His behavior had shocked her.

Everything she thought she knew about him had been shattered the previous evening when he’d offered to take her to his kin.

In doing so, he was breaking with her father and giving up his position as Captain of the Kilchurn Guard.

All to help her.

It was a far cry from his flippant manner when they’d set out from Kilchurn.

Aye, they were no longer at loggerheads, as they had been, yet she hadn’t expected him to make such a gesture.

She wanted to question him about his decision, to assure herself that he wouldn’t get into trouble for this, but she’d decided to wait until they left the others behind.

Once they were traveling alone, it would be safer to speak frankly.

The day stretched on, misty and cool, and none of them said much.

They took a break at noon, eating a light meal of bread and cheese, before pushing on once more.

Eventually, they stopped at Kintraw for the night.

It felt odd to see the hamlet again, for they’d stayed there on the way north.

Not even a week had passed since then, yet it seemed much longer to Davina.

And as they rode into Kintraw, the party passed a large standing stone.

Mist wreathed around the tall, pitted monolith as dusk settled.

Standing at least thirteen feet high, it presided over a stacked stone cairn.

On the way north, one of the serving lads at the inn had told Davina that locals believed it to be the grave of a long-dead Norse prince.

However, she’d been so focused on her destination that she hadn’t given it much thought at the time.

Her gaze settled on the huge stone now, as they rode by, and she wondered at the man who lay buried there.

Of course, Norse blood flowed through the veins of many Scots.

“Ye could be related to the man buried here, ye know?” she said, breaking the silence between her and Mackay.

He snorted a laugh in response.

“Why do ye think that?”

“Well, there’s no mistaking that ye bear a Norse heritage,” she replied.

“Yer height, high cheekbones, dark-blue eyes, and blond hair are all testament to it.”

Davina’s voice trailed off.

Goose. Now he’d know she’d been paying close attention to him.

And she had. Mackay was a striking man indeed—the kind that no doubt set many a maid’s heart aflutter.

Aye, she’d noticed the appreciative looks the serving lasses in Oban had favored him with.

She too found herself watching him when he thought she wasn’t looking.

“Maybe ye are right, Davina,” Mackay said after a brief pause, a faint teasing edge creeping into his voice.

“Although my Norse blood will be well diluted by now, I’d wager.”

Davina didn’t reply.

Instead, her cheeks warmed, and she was grateful she was sitting behind Mackay so he didn’t see her reaction.

Dropping the subject, she instead focused ahead on the huddle of stone houses emerging from the mist before them.

It was best she didn’t talk to him in such a familiar manner, not if they were going to be traveling alone shortly.

And it was also best if she forgot that heated kiss they’d shared just a few days earlier.

She’d only become flustered in his presence if she dwelled upon it.

She had to rein in her impulses.

Davina’s future teetered on a knife edge, and recklessness of any kind could spell her ruin.

From now on, I’m not taking any risks , she told herself.

I will keep my head down and be thankful I’m not destitute.

At Dun Ugadale, she would focus on making herself useful to the Mackays so that the laird wouldn’t find her a burden.

She would leave her willfulness, and privilege, behind her.