Keegan had been too near her during their travels and memory of how he’d left her in the room shot to the forefront of his mind. He was too aware of how she’d felt against him, too caught up in the way she looked when she lay on her back beneath him.
Unholy thoughts filled his head, the number of far less honorable things he wished to do to the lass growing by the second. What had she done to him to bewitch him so? Keegan’s hackles rose all the further as his imagination cooked up fantasies that were less than helpful.
“Aware or nae, that woman is a MacCallum. She has information locked behind those pretty lips, and shewillbe giving it out to us. Ye cannae be so restrained as to nae use this for our advantage, Keegan. The lass should be faced with pain should she nae wish to divulge her secrets.”
Keegan shoved up from his chair, reaching across the table in front of him and seizing Damon by the front of his shirt. He leveled his brother with a dagger-sharp glare, the venom in his blood reaching the heavens.
“Ye willnae so much as touch a hair on Willow’s head. Understood?” Keegan gritted out before catching himself and adding on, “I have given me word, and I willnae see that sullied by yer bloodlust.”
Shoving his brother back, Damon stumbled slightly. The air was thick enough to slice, and they locked eyes, neither of them looking away or blinking. Damon was an obstinate man, but the two of them usually saw eye to eye. When Melissa had been captured, it was true that Keegan had to rein him in some. This seemed different, however.
Fury wafted off the man in waves, and Keegan saw the heart of profound rage beating within his brother’s chest. In reality, thelaird would be feeling the same over Melissa’s capture were he not distracted by something he didn’t wish to name. And that was indeed a problem.
But there was no changing Keegan’s mind on this. No harm would come to Willow so long as he drew breath, and he would not be looking at that closer to determine why it mattered so much to him.
“I have delivered yer letter to the courier, me laird. Is there…” But Rodrick’s words fell away as he took in the scene that lay before him.
Silence stifled the room until Damon practically growled at Keegan like a dog. His brother turned on his heel—his fist clenched tightly to his side—and strode out of the room without so much as a good day. Keegan had never seen his brother so out of sorts, and he knew it had everything to do with his orders regarding Willow.
He willnae see reason. I cannae trust the man to leave her be.
“Rodrick,” Keegan blinked, turning toward his man-at-arms and careful to keep his expression neutral, “will ye see to Willow as her guard? I will see nay harm come to her while she is under the protection of Castle Brahanne—from anyone.”
Bowing, Rodrick lowered his head before straightening. “Of course, me laird. I will see to it at once.”
He made to leave, and Keegan held out his hand, stopping Rodrick momentarily.
“And she isnae to leave the castle. Should ye see anything of concern, or shouldanyonetry to remove ye from yer post, bring it to me immediately.”
“As ye wish, me laird.”
He bowed once more and then left Keegan alone in his study. It was impossible to understand the chaos of feeling and instinct that churned his mind like butter. The laird slumped down into his seat, hanging his head in his hands. He’d rarely been so bewildered about a course of action that lay ahead of him, not since he was a young lad and his parents still lived.
And Keegan did not enjoy it in the slightest.
10
Willow had the space of a bird’s wing to study her situation before her thoughts were interrupted. A knock at her door signaled yet another Brahanne visitor, and when she’d opened her room—or cell as it were—to see the familiar man from the Great Hall before her, she was made aware that he was to be her guard.
“Apologies, sir, but what on earth can ye mean?”
The man stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. As he stood before her, his posture strict as his sword hand lay on the pommel of his blade, her guard nodded his head at her.
“I am Rodrick, me lady, and I have been instructed by the laird to see that ye are kept safe within the chamber. I am the laird’s man-at-arms, so ye may trust me to remain vigilant.”
She eyed him. “I assume this has somethin' to do with me promised safe return to me brother.”
The man nodded. “Aye, me lady. Ye are to remain here until the time of the exchange. A letter has already been sent to Laird McCallum, and it shouldnae be long before word is returned from him.”
Willow bit back the desire to scoff at the man. He was about the age of the laird, and she could see that he was recovering from injuries. She wouldn’t attack him for merely being adjacent to the man that she was so upset with. It seemed a cruelty more befitting her brother than herself.
She folded her arms over her chest. “And what are we supposed to do then? Am I to stay in this chamber for the entirety of the day?”
“Ye cannae go wanderin', of course. It wouldnae serve us to have ye memorizing the layout of the castle and deliverin' the information to yer brother. I can take ye to the Great Hall for supper or some air if ye like. I am happy to sit with ye as well. I have been told I tell quite the braw tale. Regaling the lassies with me triumphs is just one of me specialties.”
Willow wanted to roll her eyes. Even after just a few moments with the man, it was clear that Rodrick loved the sound of his own voice, and the wink he offered on the word “lassies” showed her that he was quite the flirt as well.
“I am in nay mood for one of yer stories, I’m afraid,” she said dryly.