Page 51 of The Laird’s Vengeful Desire (The Highland Sisters’ Secret Desires #2)

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

C astle Wallace, Scottish borderlands

“Are ye certain this is what ye want, child? A marriage alliance with Clan Wallace?”

Rhona looked up into her father’s weathered face, seeing the concern and affection that had shaped her entire life etched into every line around his silver-streaked eyes.

The great hall of Castle Wallace felt different now – warmed by firelight and the promise of peace rather than the cold stone prison it had once seemed.

Hours earlier, they’d returned from the battlefield where Lachlan MacPherson’s schemes had met their end.

Baird had tended to the wounds in his chambers while Rhona assisted, her hand steady despite everything that she had endured.

Now, cleaned and bandaged, they sat before the great hearth like civilized lords instead of blood-soaked warriors.

“Aye, Faither,” she said firmly, her hand still clasped in Ian’s as they sat together in front of the hearth. The fire was a welcome relief after the chaos of battle. “I’ve never been more certain of anythin’.”

“Despite everythin’ his clan has done tae ours…” Allistair’s voice held the weight of old grievances, old wounds that had never quite healed. His gaze moved to Ian with the measured assessment of a man who’d spent decades reading the character of other warriors.

“After everythin’ Douglas Wallace did,” Ian corrected him carefully, his green eyes meeting the older man’s steady gaze. “I am nae him, me laird. I swear tae ye on me grandfaither’s memory – I’ll spend every day of me remainin’ life provin’ that tae ye.”

Laird Ciaran MacCraith stepped forward from where he’d been standing near the great windows.

His presence there was still something of a miracle – the proud laird who’d married Rhona’s sister Isolde standing ready to support the union as well.

“We both saw how he treats her, Allistair. Even in the midst of battle, his first thought was her safety. That speaks tae a man’s true character. ”

“Aye,” Allistair said slowly, studying Ian’s face as if searching for hidden truths as he clasped his hands behind his back. “Words are easy, lad. ‘Tis actions that matter.”

“Then judge me by me actions,” Ian replied, his voice steady despite the magnitude of what he was asking. The firelight caught the planes of his face, highlighting the determination that had carried him through battle after battle.

“Faither, Ian could have forced marriage weeks ago fer political gain but he always treated me with naethin’ but respect and kindness. He worked on earning me trust, and when I was taken he risked the full judgement of the Crown tae get me back tae safety,” added Rhona with force.

“And we all saw it with our own eyes,” Ciaran added, moving to stand beside his father-in-law. “When we arrived, ye were fightin’ like a man possessed – nae fer land or power, but fer love.”

Love.

The word sounded like a blessing, and Rhona felt something warm and bright unfurl in her chest. For so long, she’d believed herself unworthy of such a precious gift.

The months of captivity, first in Douglas Wallace’s dungeon, and then in Ian’s more gentle custody, had worn away at her sense of self-worth like water wearing away a stone.

But Ian had seen something in her – had chose to see beauty where others saw a pawn or a broken woman who could be taken advantage of.

She squeezed Ian’s hand, remembering the fury and desperation in his eyes as he’d charged through the MacPherson forces like an avenging angel. “He did, Faither. He could have chosen tae let Lachlan keep me as bargainin’ chip. Instead, he chose love.”

“Love,” Allistair repeated, as if testing the word on his tongue.

The skepticism in his voice wasn’t cruel – merely the wariness of a father who’d spent too many years watching women navigate a world where their value was measured in nothing but dowries and alliances, rather than their own hearts desires.

A man who had thought he had lost his daughter forever until recently.

“Aye,” Rhona said, her blue eyes bright with certainty. “I love him, and more importantly, I trust him. He’s shown me kindness when he could have shown cruelty, protection when he could have easily shown indifference.”

Silence settled over the great hall at Rhona’s words – more precious than any formal treaty. Love was indeed a luxury few of their station could afford, a weakness that enemies could exploit. Yet, here she was, declaring it openly before the most powerful men of three clans.

“So, the two of ye wish tae marry,” Allistair interjected bluntly. “Me daughter says she loves ye despite yer name and all the blood between our clans. That’s a considerable claim, lad.”

Ian rose from his chair, releasing Rhona’s hand only long enough to face her father with the respect he deserved.

When he spoke, his voice carried the weight of absolute conviction.

“I ken the weight of what I’m askin’ of ye – fer her hand, fer forgiveness, fer a chance tae prove that this union can heal wounds instead of deepenin’ them. ”

Allistair was quiet through the exchange, his weathered hands clasped behind his back as he studied the young couple.

The silence stretched and ebbed between all of them, filled with only the crackle of the fire and the sounds of the castle settling around them.

Outside the tall windows, the Highland sky was beginning to darken with the approach of evening, while inside the hall, the future of three clans hung in the balance.

Finally, he spoke in a measured tone. “I’ve spent years watching’ me clan dwindle, witnessed me daughters growin’ up in fear, me lands shrinkin’ from constant conflict. If this marriage can bring true peace–”

“It can.” Ian said firmly. “It will. On me honor as a man who loves yer daughter more than his own life.”

The promise rang through the hall like the toll of a bell, sealing something that felt larger than any of them – a new beginning built on the ashes of old hatred, love rising from the ruins of ancient feuds.

The formal discussions that followed were a blur of prerequisites, dowries, land agreements, trade agreements, dates and ceremonies. Rhona found herself nodding at appropriate moments while her heart soared with a joy she’d never dared imagine possible.

When the men finally dismissed themselves to continue their discussions over maps and contracts, Rhona and Ian slipped away to the small garden courtyard behind the great hall. The evening air was crisp with stars beginning to wink in the darkening sky above the castle walls.

“I cannae believe it,” Rhona whispered, her voice barely audible in the evening air. “After everythin’ we’ve been through…”

Ian’s arms came around her immediately, lifting her off her feet. “Aye,” he murmured, his forehead coming to rest against hers. “Despite Douglas, despite Lachlan, despite every bloody other obstacle they threw at us…”

“Sweet Saints above, Ian! Me faither’s given his blessin,” Rhona’s voice cracked slightly.

Ian kissed her again, but this time it tasted of victory and promises, of battles won and a future finally within reach. When they broke apart, both were breathing hard, and Rhona could see her own amazement reflected in his eyes.

“I love ye,” he said solemnly, his hands framing her face with infinite tenderness. “More than I ever thought possible tae love another soul.”

“And I love ye, Ian Wallace,” she whispered back, then smiled with sudden mischief. “Soon tae be me husband, if I’m nae mistaken.”