Page 35 of The Highlander’s Iron Hold (Kilted Kisses #4)

"I didnae lie about it, but aye, everyone assumed it and I never said anything tae the contrary," Colin said quietly, his shoulders sagging with defeat, his usual commanding posture crumbling under the weight of his guilt.

"I did. But it wasn't just about the gold, Morag.

I was trying tae protect ye from the expectations, from the pressure put on any new clan lady.

I didnae want tae force ye intae daeing something ye werenae ready fer. "

She staggered back a step, her hand pressed to her chest as if his words had physically wounded her.

"How long?" she whispered; her voice barely audible.

"How long have ye been planning this? Even what we did.

At the tent, so everyone would ken fer themselves, so there would be nay doubt. It was all just part of yer plan."

Colin ran both hands through his hair, his movements agitated and desperate. "It started that way, aye. I won't lie tae ye anymore. But Morag, I’m telling ye that everythin’ changed."

Morag wrapped her arms around herself as if trying to hold the pieces of her heart together. "Ye must be so proud of yerself. The stubborn Highland lass finally succumbed tae the great Iron Laird's charms."

"Morag, ye clearly are not prepared tae believe anythin’ I say.

" Colin stepped toward her, his hand reaching out before dropping when she flinched away.

His dark eyes were wild with desperation, his usual control completely shattered.

"But believe this. Morag, I dae care about ye. Whatever this started as, I care fer ye now. More than I ever thought I’d care fer anyone. "

"Care?" Morag's laugh was harsh and broken, the sound echoing off the stone walls around them. Tears streamed down her cheeks, but her stance remained proud and unyielding. "Ye dinnae even ken what it means tae care about someone. Ye are honest tae the people ye care about, Colin. It is buildin’ and protectin’ trust. It is nae manipulatin’ someone intae yer bed so ye can collect yer bride price. "

"I was protecting ye from the ugliness of political marriage!

Even if ye kenned from the start that it was all about and alliance between clans," Colin said desperately, his voice rising with emotion.

His hands gestured helplessly between them.

"If ye'd kent about the dowry terms, ye would have questioned every touch, every kiss.

Ye would have wondered if it was real or just duty, and I couldnae bear the thought of ye looking at me with suspicion instead of trust."

"Like I'm wondering now?" Morag's voice cracked, her composure finally beginning to fracture. "At least then I would have had a choice. At least then I could have gone intae yer arms with me eyes open instead of like some naive fool who thought she was falling in love."

The word hung between them like a sword. Colin's eyes widened, hope flickering there like a dying flame, his whole body going rigid with desperate attention.

"But that's over now," she said firmly, dashing that hope with brutal efficiency.

Her voice grew stronger, colder, as she rebuilt her defenses.

"I'll never again wonder if yer touch is real or calculated.

I'll never again have tae question whether yer words are genuine or just what ye think I want tae hear. "

"Morag. Dinnae let us end this conversation like this. Give me a chance tae prove that what's between us is real, and that I can be the husband ye deserve."

"There's naething tae prove," she said, trying to push past him, her small hands ineffective against his solid chest. "Ye've shown me exactly who ye are."

Morag swallowed, willing her heart to stay strong. "I need tae get away from ye," Morag said, her voice breaking completely as she turned. Her skirts swirled around her ankles as she moved with determined steps. "I need tae get away from all of this."

She began walking rapidly toward the castle entrance, but Colin moved quickly to block her path, his long strides easily outpacing hers. His broad frame overshowed her, immovable as the castle walls themselves.

"Ye're nae going anywhere," Colin said, his voice carrying the full authority of his position. The Iron Laird was back, cold and commanding. "Certainly nae beyond these walls with Fraser's men prowling the countryside."

"There's naething tae keep me here," she said, trying to push past him, her small hands ineffective against his solid chest. "Ye've gotten what ye wanted."

"What I want," Colin said firmly, his jaw set in granite lines, "is me wife safe within me castle walls. Where ye belong."

"I don't care about safety anymore." Morag's voice was fierce despite her tears, her blue eyes blazing with pain and determination. "I'd rather take me chances with Fraser than stay here kenning what I ken now."

Colin's expression hardened, every inch the laird who commanded through sheer force of will. "Ye're me wife, Morag. Whatever ye think of me, whatever ye feel, ye are Lady Armstrong now and ye will remain so."

"Let me go, Colin." Morag's voice was quiet now, but there was steel in it that matched his own stubborn will. "If ye ever had any real feelings fer me at all, let me go."

"Me feelings fer ye have naething tae dae with any of this.

I willnae let ye go, as ye so eloquently put it.

" Colin responded without missing a heartbeat.

His voice took on the commanding tone that brooked no argument.

"Ye are me responsibility now, whether ye like it or nae.

Ye can go anywhere ye want within these walls, but ye willnae leave the castle grounds. "

Morag glared up at him, fury and pain warring in her expression. Her chest rose and fell with rapid, angry breaths. "So I'm yer prisoner then?"

"Ye're me wife," Colin said coldly, his voice carrying the finality of a judge's sentence. "And I'll protect ye whether ye want me tae or nae."

Morag stared at him for a long moment, then something shifted in her expression. The fire dimmed, replaced by something harder, more distant.

"Fine," she said quietly, her voice taking on an eerie calm.

"Then ye'll have exactly the bride ye always wanted, willnae ye?

I'll move me things back tae me own chambers, and I'll perform me duties as Lady Armstrong.

I'll manage yer household, tend tae yer people, and when ye need an heir, ye can come tae me fer that as well. Naething more."

She stepped back from him, her spine straight and her chin lifted with cold dignity. "But dinnae expect anything beyond duty from me ever again."

Without another word, she walked away with measured steps, no longer the passionate woman who'd stormed at him moments before, but a stranger wearing the mask of perfect, chilling politeness.

Colin watched her go, assuming she would head to their chambers to rage in private. He stood there surrounded by the wealth that had cost him everything that truly mattered, wondering if he'd just destroyed any chance of real happiness he might have had.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I'm so sorry, Morag."

Colin stood in the courtyard until a sound voice startled him.

"Me laird?" Niven's voice cut through his brooding. "Pardon the interruption, but the council is waiting fer ye. They're eager tae discuss the... developments."

Colin didn't turn around. "Of course they are."

"Colin," Niven said more gently, stepping closer. "I heard ye and lady Morag. I ken how much ye care fer each other. Perhaps ye should?—"

"Dinnae," Colin cut him off sharply, the iron laird very much back in place. "Whatever comfort ye're planning tae offer, I dinnae want tae hear it."

Niven's mouth closed, and he nodded stiffly. "Very good, me laird,"

Colin followed Niven into the castle, his steps heavy with the weight of what he'd just lost. The council chamber buzzed with excited voices that fell silent when he entered.

The older men around the table looked more animated than he'd seen them in months, their faces bright with satisfaction and relief.

"Ah, Laird Colin!" Duncan MacLeod beamed at him, rising from his chair. "Congratulations, lad. The clan's coffers are full again. We haven't seen wealth like this since yer grandfaither's time."

And all it cost me was me wife's trust and any chance of real happiness.

"With these resources," MacLeod continued, spreading ledgers across the table,” we can finally deal with the Fraser threat properly. Nay more defensive posturing. We can hire additional mercenaries, strengthen our fortifications, even launch a preemptive strike if necessary."

Colin studied the numbers before him, forcing his mind to focus on clan business despite the ache in his chest. "How many mercenaries can we afford?"

"At least fifty skilled fighters," replied MacBride, consulting his own notes. "Maybe more if we negotiate well. That would double our fighting force."

"And the fortifications?"

There was a reason he was nicknamed Iron Laird. The ability to control his emotions served him well right now, despite the turmoil within.

"We can repair the eastern wall completely," said old MacDougall. "Add watchtowers at the vulnerable points, maybe even build that outer bailey we've been discussing fer years."

Colin nodded, making mental calculations. "What about supplies? Can we sustain a larger force through winter?"

"Aye, with the additional funds, we can stockpile grain and salt meat enough fer a siege," MacLeod confirmed. "We'll never be caught vulnerable again."

"Fraser seems particularly obsessed with yer wife," the oldest among the council added with a knowing look. "Perhaps he thought if he kidnapped her, he could still claim her. Now that the dowry's been delivered, he'll ken the union is permanent."

Permanent. The marriage might be permanent in law, but Morag looked at me now like I was a stranger. Like I was the enemy.

"What of his recent movements?" Colin forced himself to ask. "Any new intelligence?"