Page 92 of The Lyon and the Unicorn
“Lass, surely ye didn’t think I—”
“Just go!” she cried. “I’d rather sleep in the kitchen with Buck. I’d rather sleep anywhere than withyou!”
He opened his mouth to respond, then gave a sigh and shook his head.
“As ye wish.”
He turned and exited the hallway, his footsteps echoing off the stone walls until they faded into silence.
“Och, lass,” Duncan said, “surely ye didn’t think Master Murdo would beat ye? I’ve known him since he were a lad, and he’d never hurt a soul.”
“Is that right?”
“He’s loyal to his da, that’s all, as is his brother. Loyalty to the clan is etched into his bones. But he’d never hit ye. Surely ye ken that?”
“B-but he said…”
“I heard what he said. But did ye not think what might have happened had he said nothing? The laird would have taken a whip to ye, and to Master Murdo also, for disobedience. The clan—every man, woman, and child—is loyal to the laird.”
“Even if the laird is wrong?”
He nodded. “’Tis our way, lass. Ye should know—yer father’s a duke, is he not?”
“Papa Harcourt would never lay a hand on me,” Clara said. “No matter how badly I behaved.” She smiled at the image of her stepfather’s face, the gentle patience in his eyes when she tested him to the limit of his endurance.
“And why’s that?”
“Because he loves me.”
“Then perhaps ye should ask yerself why Master Murdo would never lay a hand on ye, no matter what ye did.”
She wiped her eyes, and he took her hand.
“Whatever ye may think of him, lass, he needs ye.”
“What aboutyou?” she said. “What do you need, Duncan? What does James need?”
“There’s nothing to be gained thinking on what can never be.”
He lifted her hand to his lips, then released it.
“Go to yer husband, lass. Ye’ll regret it if ye don’t.”
Then he exited the hall, leaving Clara alone. Shortly after, the servants slipped in to clear the remnants of the celebrations—Joan, Elspeth, and Callum, though Marsaili was nowhere to be seen—and whisper to each other in hushed tones.
Were they whispering about her? Did loyalty to their laird lead them to also believe his claim that she was a slut who dishonored the name of McTavish?
She crossed the floor, nodding in acknowledgment as they stared at her. When she reached the foot of the staircase, she glanced upward. Then, with a sigh, she turned away and made her way to the kitchens.
Ye’ll regret it, lass…
Duncan was right. She did have regrets—regrets that she was foolish enough to have believed Murdo could have made her happy.
Regrets that she had ever believed in the magic of the Lyon’s Den.
Chapter Nineteen
“Ilove you,Murdo.”
