Page 90 of Desiring the Highland Laird
“But—”
“Am I laird or no?” he roared. “Mind yerself, laddie.”
“Or what? I’m next? Ye cannae think to banish us both.”
Callum remained silent as Jamie gave him a withering gaze. He understood it hurt the lad to see his older brother, whom he idolized led out of the keep, but there was nothing to be done for it. He charged after them. He would not be surprised if Jamie left with his brother. The door banged closed leaving Callum alone in silence. He dropped his claymore. It clattered to the floor.
“Callum?”
Evie’s quiet voice rang out into the hushed stillness. He turned to see her standing on the opposite end of the great hall clutching rolled up material, her face devoid of color. Her knuckles were white.
“Och, lass, dinnae I tell ye to wait for me? Where’s Roslyn?”
“It’s not her fault,” she said, quickly. “Don’t be angry with her. I slipped out. I had to show you this.”
She charged forward. As she neared, he realized she clutched one of the tapestries in her hands.
“What’s this?”
“Look at it.” She shoved it toward him.
He had no choice but to take it from her. The material unfurled. He held it up to see Dundale with an army charging toward it. And leading that army was Rory MacDonald brandishing his great axe. A cold chill settled through him as he stared at the morphing image.
“I don’t know when it appeared, but it wasn’t there last night before you…” Her words trailed off. She took a deep breath, expelled it. “Do you know what it means?”
“Aye, lass,” he said, his voice quiet and calmer than it should be. “It means we’re going to be attacked.”
“That’s what I was afraid of.” She moved closer to him. “What do we do now?”
He stared down at the image of the army that slowly moved across the woven fabric inch by inch. As laird, he had a responsibility to protect his clan and all those who resided within the keep. That included Evie. But Evie didn’t belong here. She belonged in another time, another world.
He suspected the MacDonalds were coming for more than revenge. Likely they knew that part of the keystone was somewhere within the keep. If they breached the walls and invaded, they would find it and try to use it.
Though he was not the one to swear to protect the keystone, his ancestor was and he had to honor that. His gaze drifted from the tapestry to the petite woman standing next to him, shivering. Her hair was in fiery waves framing her lovely face which was pinched with worry. He understood then he could not have her here, or the stone. But he didn’t want to alarm her. He didn’t want to tell her what he was thinking for it would put the fear as well as defiance into her. One thing he had understood about his termagant bonnie lass was that she would never go quietly, even though he was giving her exactly what she wanted.
“We’re going to protect the keep.”
Roslyn hurried into the great hall then. She came to an abrupt halt. Her eyes widened when she saw them standing together.
“My apologies, my lord, the lass—”
“Roslyn, ’tis all right. Dinnae fash yerself.” He rolled up the material and handed it back to Evie. “Take that back to yerbedchamber, lass, and leave it there. Tonight, ye will stay with me.”
For a moment she looked as though she wanted to object. He reached for her, unable to stop himself from whisking the wild locks of hair off her shoulder.
“’Tis the way I can protect ye,” he said, his voice soft.
“All right,” she said at last.
“I’ll help ye gather yer things,” Roslyn offered. She motioned for Evie to follow her back to the guest bedchamber.
But she remained there, staring up at him with those big brown eyes filled with concern and worry. He brushed the back of his hand over her cheek.
“Go, lass,” he said, his voice quiet.
Finally, she nodded, clutching the tapestry in her hands. She turned and walked away, leaving him alone once again.
Chapter Thirty-Two
