Page 49 of Promised to the Ruthless Laird
“Master Lennox,” the man greeted Finley, his voice deep and firm, filled with authority. “The men are ready. Everything’s in place.”
“Aye, thank ye, General MacLeod,” Finley replied, his voice just as commanding. “Is everything prepared as planned?”
MacLeod nodded, his eyes scanning the camp. “Aye, all is ready. We’ll be on the move at first light.” He then turned his attention to Edin, his gaze assessing her with an intensity that made her uncomfortable. “Ye must be the lass who’s been helping Master Lennox,” he said, a hint of curiosity in his tone.
Edin nodded stiffly, meeting his gaze with a practiced coolness. “Aye, that’s me.”
MacLeod gave her a small smile, the kind that barely reached his eyes. “Well, lass, ye must be tired. Would ye like tae rest in one o’ the tents?”
Edin’s breath caught in her throat. Rest? The nerve of him!
She stared at him, wide-eyed, her mind racing to understand what he was suggesting. The soldiers around her were preparing for battle, sharpening weapons, setting up camp, and MacLeod thought she needed to rest? She was a trained warrior, she had been on missions far worse than this one, and not once had anyone dared suggest she rest.
She glanced at Finley, expecting him to share in her disbelief. But instead, his expression remained impassive, distant.
A strange coldness crept over her, gnawing at the edges of her thoughts. Was this how it was going to be? They’d shared something intimate, something real, but now it felt as though she were nothing more than an afterthought to him. A distraction. An accessory to the mission.
Before she could form a reply, to her relief, Finley spoke up, his voice steady and firm. “It’s fine, MacLeod. She has a special mission with me. There’s nay need fer her tae rest.”
MacLeod bowed his head respectfully. “I’ll see tae the troops, Sir,” he said, before turning and striding off without another word.
Edin watched him go, her heart pounding in her chest. She was still seething, her emotions a tangled mess of frustration and confusion. How dare he treat her like this? As if she were some ornament to be tucked away out of the way while the real men handled things? But then he had mentioned their mission…
Edin’s blood boiled. She couldn’t help it. The words burned her throat as she snapped, “What is it yer army thinks I’m here fer, Finley? I’m nae some bairn they can send off tae a tent tae rest while ye men carry on wi’ the real work. I’ve been hired fer this mission. I’m nae some delicate lass who needs a place tae sleep when there’s work tae be done.”
Finley didn’t flinch. Instead, his eyes flickered with amusement.
“Aye, so I said. They ken ye’ve been hired fer this, lass.” he said softly, his voice dripping with a kind of arrogance she hadn’t heard from him before.
“What was that then, Finley?” she demanded, her voice sharp as a dagger. “How dare they dismiss me like that? I’ve been with ye this whole time, fighting beside ye, making decisions alongside ye.”
Finley’s smirk faded, and for the briefest of moments, his eyes softened. But it was fleeting, gone almost before she could register it. “I’m nae taking ye off the mission, Edin. MacLeod was only trying tae help” he said, his voice low and steady. “I just need ye tae come with me. I’m hopin’ tae meet with Mackay, the Laird o’ Inverness. I’m nae here tae wage a war if I can help it. If I can convince him tae release Davina without bloodshed, then I will.”
She took a deep breath, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “Aye,” she said, the words coming out with more force than she had intended. “Of course I’ll ride wi’ ye. But dinnaethink fer a second that I’ll just stand by. I’m here, and I’ll see it through, whether ye like it or nae.”
Finley studied her for a long moment, his gaze piercing, unreadable. Then he nodded, just once. “Good. Let’s go then.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The wind howled as Edin and Finley reached the looming silhouette of Mackay’s castle.
It stood like a great black monolith against the starlit sky, its crumbling edges softened only by the faint glow of lantern light spilling from its narrow windows. The rain had turned the path into a sucking mire, and every step Edin took was met with the squelch of damp earth clinging to her boots.
She could sense Finley’s urgency in the way he had dismounted his horse and strode ahead, his jaw locked tight, his breath heavy.
As they approached the gates, a guard standing watch took immediate notice, his hand tightening around the hilt of his sword.
“Halt,” he called out, stepping forward. “State yer business.”
Finley squared his shoulders. “I’ve come tae see Laird Mackay.”
“And who are ye?”
“Finley Lennox.”
The guard studied him for a long moment before turning to another man stationed nearby. With a curt nod, the second guard disappeared through the gates.
Edin shifted beside Finley, bracing against the biting wind as they waited. It wasn’t long before the guard returned, his expression unreadable.
