Page 38 of The Highlander's Alluring Spy
Nathair breathed a laugh. “Aye, well. It’s less charmin’ once yer village has been razed again and again while ye can dae naught but watch.”
Magnolia stared at him. “But that’s simply not true! Greta Reid told me you gave them money from your own pocket. Eòghan MacDuff says you and Commander Candlish have actively worked the fields with them. Nobody blames you, not for any of it.”
It was strange to her that she of all people should be defending this Laird against himself, but Magnolia had been raised to believe in the value of truth. It mattered not what she might yet discover in her remaining time; right now, all she saw was a good man, and it was her duty to be honest.
Nathair had the oddest expression on his face. It wasn’t entirely sad nor happy. It wasn’t angry, and it wasn’t embarrassed. His reaction to her words was one she could not name. Eventually, he sighed. “Well, whatever rumors me people have been spreadin’, it isnae enough,” he said.
It is as though the burden on his shoulders just got even more oppressive. He seems to physically shrink.
She didn’t move her hand from his and turned her body so that she was facing him as fully as she could while still sitting. “What isn’t enough?”
He gazed down at their joined hands as he spoke. “Summer ends, Magnolia. More harshly here than ye can ever imagine in yer safe wee houses down South. Ye’ve met my people? Then ye ken how poor they are. How thinly spread. Ye spoke o’ Greta Reid. Dae ye think her and wee Bernie are gonnae be able to put enough away for the winter all by themselves?”
“What are you talking about?”
“There isnae enough money, and there isnae enough food. If I dinnae dae somethin’ soon, me people are gonnae starve. What kind o’ Laird daes that make me?” The desperation in his voice tugged at Magnolia’s heart. “I’m runnin’ out o’ options. I wish somebody could just tell me what I’m supposed to dae.”
The fountain water continued to rain down, and Magnolia kept holding Nathair’s hand in abstract comfort as she faced the reality of what he was telling her.
His people have not recovered from the previous war. They may not survive the winter months.
What did that mean for the Order’s suspicions? What did that mean for Magnolia’s entire purpose of being here?
“What are your options?” she asked him gently. “Perhaps I can listen. Perhaps I may be able to help.”
He huffed another strangled breathy laugh. “I’ve only got one that would work for sure,” he admitted, still not looking at Magnolia. “I dinnae want to dae it, but I’m beginnin’ to think it’s me only choice. For Elaine. For me people. What kind o’ Laird would I be if I put myself first? What kind o’ Faither?”
For some reason, Magnolia’s heart began to pound more heavily at that, a strange heavy ache in her chest. With her free hand, she very slowly reached out. She paused once, twice, but eventually, her hand found his cheek. Her fingers brushed the bristles of his beard, and she slowly, slowly moved his face so that he was looking at her once more. “You are an excellent Father,” she said. “Of that, at least, I can assure you. Elaine thinks you are the world.”
He moved. For a second, she thought he was going to make her let him go, but instead, he leaned into her touch, closing his eyes as he did.
They sat like that for a moment, and then Magnolia said, “What is the option, Nathair?”
He sighed and closed his eyes, still leaning against her hand. “Commander Candlish thinks I should wed the daughter o’ a local Laird. Agnes’ Faither is closing off our supply routes out o’ spite that I remain single. It’d be the quickest way to solve all me problems in one fell swoop.”
Magnolia went still. “Oh,” she said, a new coldness in her voice. “I see.”
What are you doing? Why are you speaking to him like that?
She ground her teeth, forcing herself back to propriety. “What I mean is, well, it sounds like a good option, even if not your favored one. Political marriages are made for worse reasons. It really is a dutiful way to solve everything.”
He opened his eyes, and Magnolia’s heart fluttered as his Fae eyes stared into her own. “Dutiful, aye,” he agreed. “So ye think I should dae it?”
“Yes, of course.”
No! You can’t!
She shook her head against her own thoughts. “What I mean, My Laird, is that it sounds like the most prudent option for sure.”
They looked at each other, and then Nathair asked, “But?”
“But what?”
“Ye sound hesitant. Tell me yer advice true, Magnolia,” he said. There was a deep undercurrent to his voice now, one that made all the little hairs on Magnolia’s skin stand on end. “Ye think it’s the most prudent option, but what?”
“I—”
“Ye dinnae think I should wed the girl?”
