Page 12 of The Highlander’s Iron Hold (Kilted Kisses #4)

CHAPTER SEVEN

C olin made his way to the healer's chambers before dawn. He'd left Morag curled in his bed, her hair spread across the pillow like spilled honey, and tried not to think about how right she'd looked there.

The sleeping draught had worn off too early again, leaving him with barely four hours of rest before the familiar terrors had clawed their way to the surface. He couldn't afford to have that happen with Morag in the room.

"Me laird?" Tasgall looked up from his worktable where he was grinding herbs, surprised by the early visit. "Is everything well?"

"I need more of the sleeping potion," Colin said without preamble. "And make it stronger this time."

The elderly healer's weathered face creased with concern. "Are the nightmares back? I thought they'd been better these past months."

Colin's jaw tightened. "They need tae stay at bay. Especially now."

Especially now that there's someone else in me chamber who must nae witness them .

The idea of Morag seeing him wake in a cold sweat, thrashing against invisible bonds, calling out for someone who'd been dead for twenty years, made his skin crawl with shame.

"The marriage, then," Tasgall said quietly, understanding flickering in his eyes. "New circumstances can sometimes worsen old wounds."

"Just make the draught stronger," Colin said curtly. "I cannae afford tae be... compromised."

Tasgall nodded, already moving to collect different bottles from his shelves. "It'll be ready by evening. But me laird, perhaps it's time tae consider?—"

"The draught will suffice."

Colin left before the healer could finish whatever well-meaning advice he'd been about to offer. There was no cure for what ailed him, no herb that could undo the past or bring back the dead. There was only control, discipline, and enough sleeping potion to keep the demons at bay.

By the time he returned to his chambers, Morag was awake and already dressed, sitting by the window with a piece of embroidery in her lap. She looked up when he entered, her blue eyes unreadable.

"Good morning," she said politely, as if they were strangers sharing an inn rather than husband and wife sharing a chamber.

"Morning," Colin replied with equal formality.

And so began the pattern that would define their first few days of their marriage.

They were carefully polite, practiced distance, and created a routine built around avoiding any real interaction.

They shared meals in silence, retired to separate activities during the day, and lay in the same room at night like two stones in a riverbed, close but never touching.

It was exactly what Colin had expected from a political marriage. So why did it leave him feeling more isolated than ever?

Colin was reviewing the latest reports from his border patrols when there was a sharp knock and Niven entered without waiting for permission.

"Me laird," Duncan said grimly, "there's a Fraser messenger at the gates. Says he bears an urgent message that requires yer immediate attention."

The quill stilled in Colin's hand. Fraser messengers were never bearers of good news. "Bring him tae the courtyard, but keep him under guard. I'll meet him there."

Within minutes, Colin stood facing a young messenger from Fraser lands—a sight that made several Armstrong men keep one hand on instinctively one their weapons. The messenger's horse was mud-splattered and breathing hard from what had clearly been a desperate ride.

"I bear a message fer the Laird of Clan Armstrong," he announced, his voice steady despite the hostile stares surrounding him. "From Laird Duncan Fraser."

Colin gestured for his men to stand down, though their hands remained close to their sword hilts. "Give it here."

The messenger handed over a sealed parchment bearing Fraser's distinctive red wax seal, then stepped back to await a response. Colin broke the seal with deliberate calm, though something cold and deadly had already begun to coil in his chest.

Armstrong—

I ken what ye sacrificed tae secure the MacDuff alliance.

Ye stole what was rightfully mine. I was the highest bidder and rightful laird fer the MacDuff girl until ye crawled intae the picture.

Yer desperation has cost ye more than ye realize, and yer betrayal of our previous understanding will nae go unanswered.

By taking the MacDuff lass as bride, ye have openly declared yerself an enemy of Clan Fraser. Consider this me formal declaration that we are now at war.

Yer lands will burn. Yer people will suffer. And yer new wife... well, perhaps she will meet the same fate as yer sister.

Ronan Fraser

The parchment crumpled in Colin's fist before he was even conscious of crushing it. White-hot rage flooded through him, followed immediately by an ice-cold calculation that was far more dangerous.

"Niven," he said quietly, his voice carrying the deadly calm that his men had learned to fear. "Send the messenger away with our acknowledgment. Then summon MacLeod and Jamie immediately."

Niven took one look at Colin's face and nodded grimly. "Aye, me laird."

Within minutes, the messenger had been escorted to the gates with formal confirmation that Colin had received Fraser's declaration. Duncan MacLeod and Jamie arrived moments later, along with several other senior members of Colin's guard.

"Gentlemen," Colin said, tossing the crumpled letter onto his desk. "Fraser has officially declared war. He kens about our... arrangement with the MacDuffs, and he's made it clear he considers me marriage tae the lass theft of what’s rightfully his."

MacLeod's weathered face hardened. "What are yer orders, me laird?"

"Ready the troops. Full mobilization as of this moment." Colin's voice was steel wrapped in ice. "Double the guard on the castle, triple the border patrols. Fraser's nae making idle threats. Niven will see tae this."

"What about Lady Morag?" Jamie asked quietly. "She should be told?—"

"Nae." The word came out sharper than Colin intended. "Me wife daesnae need tae be frightened by Fraser's posturing. But I want her watched at all times. If she so much as walks tae the garden, I want two guards with her."

Colins looked up. "There is one other thing. I must fulfill tradition, so the people must meet me new bride. I will be taking her tae the village today. Make sure ye discreetly keep her safe."

The men exchanged glances but nodded.

"We'll be ready, me laird," Niven said grimly. "Fraser picked the wrong clan tae threaten. And we will guard Lady Morag with our lives."

After his men filed out to carry out their orders, Colin remained alone in his study, staring at the crumpled letter. Fraser's words echoed in his mind: perhaps she will meet the same fate as yer sister.

Nae while I draw breath, I failed Kathleen, but I'll die before I let anything happen tae Morag.

Ten minutes later, Colin found Morag in the solar, bent over her embroidery with the focused concentration with which she attended to tasks.

The afternoon light caught the golden threads in her hair, and for a moment he was struck again by how she'd fitted into his castle's rhythms despite their careful distance from each other.

"Morag," he said, and she looked up with that polite, guarded expression she'd perfected over the past few days.

"Aye?"

"Prepare tae go out. We're riding intae the village."

Her eyebrows rose in surprise. "The village? Why?"

"It's time ye met me people properly," Colin said, keeping his voice matter-of-fact. "It's tradition in me clan fer the new lady tae be presented tae the townspeople. There's a fair organized in our honor. There will be food, music, the usual Highland festivities."

Morag set down her needle, studying his face with those perceptive blue eyes. "A fair? I thought... given the clan's circumstances..."

"The people need something tae celebrate," Colin said, which was partially true. What he didn't say was that he needed to show Fraser that they were not afraid. That Morag would remain safe under Armstrong protection and they would not cower away. "Meet me at the stables in an hour."

She nodded slowly. "Very well. Should I wear anything particular?"

"Something that shows ye're Lady Armstrong now," he replied. "The people will want tae see their laird's wife properly presented."

After Morag left to prepare, Colin made his way to his study. He had two letters to write, and both required careful wording.

The first was to Fraser:

Ronan Fraser ? —

Yer threats have been noted and will be answered in kind should ye act upon them. The MacDuff alliance is exactly what it appears—a political arrangement between clans, naething more. Keep yer distance from me lands and me wife, or face the consequences.

Me bride is under Armstrong protection now. Any attempt tae harm her will be considered an act of war against both our clans and MacDuff lands. Choose yer battles wisely.

Colin Armstrong

He sealed it with his clan ring, then began the second letter—this one requiring far more delicate language:

Alistair MacDuff ? —

The first portion of our arrangement has been fulfilled as agreed. However, Fraser's recent actions compel me tae request immediate completion of our understandin’.

The remaining considerations discussed in our private agreements must now be delivered without delay. Given the circumstances we both anticipated, I trust ye will honor the full scope of what was promised. As will I.

Yer daughter remains unaware. She will be protected according tae her station, though I trust ye understand that all agreements must be satisfied fer that protection tae remain absolute.

Time grows short. I expect yer swift response.

Colin Armstrong

Both letters were dispatched with his fastest riders. As he walked across the courtyard, Colin's mind was already calculating—how long would it be before Fraser made his next move, how much time did they have to strengthen his defenses and would the MacDuff dowry arrive before he needed it most.