Page 78 of A Wife for the Highland Villain
“There is nay way to be certain when it comes to whispers,” Nathan admitted. “But I believe the woman spoke the truth. She had nothing to gain by lying. And if there is even the smallest chance that it is true, we must act as though it is.”
Alasdair dragged a hand down his face, his palm rough against the stubble on his jaw. “They would be fools to stage an attack in the heart of me own castle,” he said. “And on the night of the cèilidh? With half the clan gathered?”
“They may be fools,” Nathan relented. “But they daenae care for their lives. All they care for is seeing ye fall. And they ken that striking at yer wife would wound ye more than any blade.”
The words twisted deep, and Alasdair’s grip tightened on the hilt of his sword until his knuckles turned white.
Nathan lowered his voice. “Me Laird, we should cancel the cèilidh. It is the only way to ensure yer safety and hers.”
Silence hung heavy between them.
Alasdair’s gaze drifted to the garden wall, to where Lily had stood not long ago. He could still see her face, still hear her laughter. The thought of her in danger again, the thought of arrows cutting through the air toward her, made his chest clench until he could barely breathe.
“Cancel it…” he muttered.
He ran a hand through his damp hair. The thought gnawed at him. Canceling the cèilidh would most likely protect her. But it would also confirm every whisper that he was weak. That his clan was divided and that fear ruled him.
Nathan stepped closer. “It might be the only way. Safety must come before pride.”
Alasdair sucked in a sharp breath and was about to speak when the guard returned, carrying a wooden cup. He offered it with a bowed head.
“Water, me Laird.”
Alasdair took it and drank deeply, the cool liquid easing the burn in his throat, though it could not calm the fire in his chest. He lowered the cup and met Nathan’s eyes again.
“I will think about it,” he said.
Nathan frowned. “There is nothing to think about?—”
“I said I will think about it,” Alasdair cut him off. “And that is final.”
Nathan’s jaw tightened. He gave a short nod and turned on his heel, leaving the training yard.
Alasdair stood alone, his sword heavy in his hand. He lifted the cup again, drained the last of the water, and listened to the echo of his heart. It pounded hard, steady, and relentless, as if it, too, sensed the danger drawing near.
CHAPTER 24
Alasdair satin his study and placed his hands on the desk. Laid out before him were maps of the terrain, but he couldn’t be less interested in any of them.
None of the papers managed to capture his attention. At least not for now. His eyes traced them again and again, but his thoughts were elsewhere.
His mind flashed to the attack they had barely survived and the rumors Finn and Nathan had heard in the village. For some reason, everything had put him on edge, and he was growing more paranoid every day.
The door swung open, and he instantly reached for the dagger beside his hand. His eyes snapped up, and surprise flashed across his face.
It wasn’t an intruder. It was only Lily.
Her face was contorted with fury, and her chest rose and fell as though she had come running.
“So, it is true?” she demanded, her voice sharp enough to slice the air. “Ye are canceling the cèilidh?”
Alasdair pushed himself to his feet. “What?”
“Daenae play the fool,” she shot back, stepping further into the room. “I heard it. Tell me if it is true. Are ye canceling it or nae?”
Alasdair’s eyebrows knitted together. “Where did ye hear such a thing?”
“That doesnae matter,” she snapped. “Answer me.”
