Page 28 of The Laird's Dangerous Prize
"Or," Finlay countered, "she'll enchant ye further, and ye'll forget tae ask."
Ciaran laughed, clapping his friend on the shoulder. "Have a little faith, Fin. I haven't forgotten who I am, nor me responsibilities tae our clan."
But as they made their way back towards the castle, Ciaran couldn't deny the truth. Laird or not, he was falling for the mysterious woman who'd stumbled into his life.
And that night, he intended to discover if there was any chance for them beyond those stolen moments at Castle MacCraith.
Near the castle keep, a young page hurried toward them, his expression anxious. "Me laird! The council awaits ye in the great hall. They say it's urgent."
Ciaran and Finlay exchanged glances. "Has Murray been busy, then?" Ciaran muttered.
"It seems so." Finlay fell into step beside him.
The great hall fell silent as Ciaran entered. Five stern-faced men sat at the long oak table—his council of elders, men who had served his father and now served him. At the head sat Old Fergus, whose grandfather had been advisor to Ciaran's great-grandfather. Beside him, Murray's distinctive red beard stood out like a flame.
"Me lords," Ciaran greeted them, taking his place at the table's center. "Tae what dae I owe this unexpected gathering?"
Old Fergus cleared his throat. "Troubling reports have reached us, me laird, of armed men on our borders. Sightings of strangers skulking about the forest. And—" his gaze sharpened, "word of a young woman you've been harboring in secret."
"I wasn't aware that a laird needed permission tae offer hospitality," Ciaran replied evenly.
"When that hospitality threatens the clan, it becomes the council's concern," countered Angus, the youngest of the council members but no less formidable.
"How exactly daes me guest threaten the clan?" Ciaran kept his voice steady despite the anger building in his chest.
"These armed men have been sighted near our borders. Men who appeared the very night ye brought her here," Murray said bluntly. "They grow in number with each passing day.Me huntsmen reported fifteen of them along the eastern ridge yesterday while tracking deer. Fifteen armed men, Laird Ciaran! That's nay coincidence."
"I'm well aware of these incursions, Murray," Ciaran replied coolly. "Me border patrols have the clan secured. In addition, we've doubled the guards and sent scouts tae track their movements."
He leaned forward. "What ye've observed merely confirms what me captains reported tae me at dawn. The question is nae whether these men exist, but that we must trap them once and fer all."
"Who is she?" Old Fergus asked, his rheumy eyes fixed on Ciaran's face. "Why daes she attract dubious characters like those men? What dae they want from her? From which clan daes she hail? "
The questions hung in the air. Ciaran hesitated, weighing his options. The truth would reveal his own ignorance—that he'd sheltered a woman whose identity remained a mystery. A lie would only delay the inevitable.
"I dinnae ken," he admitted finally. "She refuses tae say."
Murmurs broke out around the table. "Ye mean tae tell us," Angus said incredulously, "that ye've invited danger tae our doorstep fer a woman who won't even name her clan?"
"I know her name is Isolde," Ciaran said defensively. "I know she's of noble birth. And I know she was attacked on the edge of MacCraith land, where two other clans intersect with ours. That makes her me responsibility."
"Responsibility?" Old Fergus's eyebrows rose. "Or infatuation?"
Ciaran felt heat rise in his neck. "Watch yerself, old man."
"With respect, me laird," Laird Murray interjected, "we’ve all heard how bonny she is. The council's concern is that ye might be blinded tae the danger she brings."
"The MacCraith has never shrunk from danger," Ciaran replied coldly. "Nor abandoned those in need. Nor let emotion affect duty."
"Indeed, me laird. The MacCraith has always acted with the clan's welfare foremost," Old Fergus countered. "If these men seek the girl, perhaps returning her tae them would secure our peace."
Ciaran's fist hit the table with enough force to rattle the goblets. "We are nae in the habit of handing over women tae armed men! What kind of clan would that make us?"
Silence fell again, broken only by Fergus's labored breathing.
"Time," Ciaran said finally. "Give me time. I believe I can learn her identity this very evening. Once I know which clan shebelongs tae, we can better assess the threat—and decide the proper course."
The council members exchanged glances.
