Page 59 of Wedded to the Twisted Highlander
Thomas opened his mouth to defend his intentions but then paused, searching for a better answer. “What can I do then to make her comfortable here?” he asked, his frustration flaring.
Eileen bobbed her head as she pushed through the study doors. “Well, what did Faither do for Maither? What made her feel secure after he took her away?”
“Astrid wasnae betrothed to me. Our arrangement—” Thomas broke off and clenched his jaw. “If I tell the men to be discreet…”
Eileen shook her head. But before she could respond, Duncan stepped up next to Thomas, eager for orders.
“Say the word, and I’ll have every entrance covered,” he said, his voice steady and even.
Thomas turned to Eileen. The answer was there in her eyes, He could see it, but it didn’t make any sense to him and went against every one of his beliefs.
“I have Reid plannin’ a cèilidh in Astrid’s honor,” he said through gritted teeth.
He wanted to cancel it, to keep Astrid and Melody out of sight. But what sort of life would that be?
“I need ye to ensure that the security will be handled for the event. I cannae have just anyone waltzin’ into the castle. Astrid has stated that she wants to keep it small.”
Eileen smirked, shaking her head. “Dinnae go from one extreme to the other, Thomas. Ye’ll give the lass whiplash.”
“Laird McFair,” a manservant called, barreling down the hallway. Before Thomas could answer, the servant skidded to a halt in the doorway, beads of sweat dripping down his brow. “A messenger has come for ye.”
“At this hour?” Eileen asked, furrowing her brow.
“He’s come wit’ a message from Laird Chalium,” the servant added.
Thomas straightened up like the formidable force he was. “Bring him here,” he ordered as he glanced at his sister.
She didn’t say a word but quickly took her leave, all her unspoken questions dangling off the tip of her tongue. Duncan took his place at the corner of the room, his hand resting on the hilt of his dirk.
Thomas moved around to the fireplace and stared at the flames that consumed the logs. He could feel the tension mounting with each echo of the servant’s steps.
“Me Laird,” the servant called in a shaky voice as he came back with the messenger.
Thomas’s eyes narrowed as the strange thin man walked into the room.
“Why have ye come at such an hour?” he demanded before any pleasantries could be exchanged. He didn’t like the fact that his wife’s enemy dared to send another messenger. “Yer presence disturbs me castle.”
“Forgive me, Laird McFair, but me master has requested the return of Astrid Fulton.”
“Ye meanLady McFair.”
“Laird Chalium doesnae care that she has a husband. Nor does he care about the bairn she ran off wit’. Just hand her over, and me master will spare yer life and those of yer clansfolk.”
A tense silence filled the room, heavy as a storm cloud. Thomas spotted Duncan drawing closer, his blade catching the light of the fire. His heart thundered in his chest as he debated which course of action he should take.
“Astrid willnae be goin’ anywhere,” he declared, each word a vow as his fingers reached for the familiar leather sheath of his dirk.
The fact that the messenger had the audacity to challenge him ignited an ire that he couldn’t quell.
“She is mine, and I will decide her fate.”
The messenger’s smirk faltered, replaced by a cold sneer. “Laird Chalium cares nae for yer marital vows. He will come for her,and he will take her. This meetin’ was merely a formality—a chance for ye to do the right thing.”
Thomas’s fury ignited like wildfire. He glanced at Duncan, who had already drawn his dirk and was waiting for his command.
“If ye or yer Laird set foot on me grounds, I will have yer heads on a spike,” he warned, his voice a deadly whisper. “And ye can be sure I make good on me promises.”
With a swift motion, he drew his dirk, the blade gleaming wickedly in the rusty orange glow of the fire.
