Willow sagged with relief, and the man-at-arms bowed, making his way to the exit and delivering a moment of privacy betweenher and the laird. It had been a few days since they’d been shut in together at all, let alone in the room that held so many a memory. Still, that wasn’t important right now.
The nerves came back as she realized that now the task of explaining all this to the laird lay before her, and Willow pulled from that internal well of strength that she had cultivated over the years. If she could stand up to her brother, she could speak to this much more noble man.
“I thank ye, Laird Brahanne. But,” she sighed, dropping her head before meeting Keegan’s eyes again, “I must ask first that ye agree to do nay harm to me people on that day. I daenae wish to see them injured or killed because of what I am about to tell ye.”
Keegan stared at her, that furrow to his brow deepening. The meeting between the clans was meant to be just that—a meeting. There wasn’t to be any bloodshed as long as the exchange proceeded as expected—even if she already knew that would not be the case—so Willow had believed this would be a simple thing to ensure. At least now, before she opened her mouth and spilled the truth. Keegan would uphold his word, but it wouldn’t be a promise he felt comfortable making once he learned of Magnus’s likely ambush.
Still, she was not the laird, nor did she have experience with battle or warfare tactics. She was only doing what she thought was best, what could protect her sister and people.
“The exchange is meant to proceed peacefully. I daenae see a reason for me to harm yer clan unless I’m workin' to defend meself. Will that suit yer needs?”
Keegan eyed her, keeping his body taut, not even so much as a hair of unwanted movement. She envied that about him. The laird was so much the expert at keeping himself level and unreadable. While her joviality played that role at home, it wasn’t working for her now because she was not simply annoyed or fed up with her life.
Willow was panicking about the very real possibility that someone might die on that field in three days’ time, and there were too many that she cared about who could succumb to that fate.
She also knew that she couldn’t ask Keegan to avoid battle and leave himself defenseless if he were attacked, but that was what she was trying to prevent.
“Aye, that will suffice.” Willow nodded, sucking in a breath that had been on the edge for too long. “And I ask that as I tell ye this, ye keep in yer head that it is Magnus who directs the warriors. Just like yerself, he is the one responsible for the clan’s actions.”
Keegan nodded, his face a mask of stoicism and steely composure. “Of course. I willnae seek out a warrior to assault so long as none look to harm me. Now, go on before we’re called for dinner.”
It was still morning, so Willow took Keegan’s meaning to heart, and she sighed, nearly rolling her eyes. The man’s sarcasm was sharp, and as much as it likely shouldn’t, it actually eased some of her nerves. She cleared her throat, readying herself to begin.
“I understand. I only worry for me people as I’m sure ye ken well enough yerself by now.”
He nodded. “Aye. I am well aware of yer keen desire to protect yer men and yer clan. Were ye part of Clan Brahanne, it would be impressive.”
She tried not to allow her mind to consider that possibility. Willow had already dreamed of no longer being forced to exist under the rule of her brother when she’d been told of her engagement; she couldn’t let herself give in to that fantasy now—especially as the fate of her wedding still hung in the balance.
“Me brother,” Willow began, each word like pulling a tooth from her mouth for how much it pained her, going against Magnus’s direct orders as she was, “is likely to use one or more of his preferred tactics when he meets ye at the field ye’ve chosen for the exchange. I have listened to him much over the years, and he doesnae ken how much I have learned.”
“Oh?” Keegan cocked a brow, and she leaned into the clear curiosity on his face for comfort. “And what is that?”
“Magnus doesnae see any situation as anythin' but an opportunity. He wishes to lead and win and seize control of every moment. As such, he’ll set an ambush for yer men.”
Keegan folded his arms over his chest, raising his brows as if he had heard this already. “I have prepared the men for such an event. I am nae an idjit, Lady Willow. I ken that yer brother will look for an openin' to deal me a blow.”
Sighing, Willow returned the laird’s quintessential nod, shifting the weight back and forth between her feet. “I imagined as such as well. Still, ye may nae be familiar with his archers nor his ground men.”
That got Keegan’s attention, and he cast her an expression of worried surprise. “Archers? That seems like it would be?—”
“I assure you. They are his favorite. He will have them ride out the night before to dig pits in the softest ground on any nearby hill or elevation. They will create themselves cover that they will use to launch volley after volley into yer line of men.”
“Lass,” Keegan shook his head, and it didn’t escape Willow’s notice that she was now ‘lass,’ “that would be a terrible move. Ye will be present within our line. Archers can be highly skilled, but he’d risk harmin' ye if he allowed his men to send out volleys.”
This was the moment Willow had been waiting for or, more aptly, had been dreading.
“He willnae care. If it will harm yer men, yerself, and potentially win him a victory, Magnus will give the command without so much as a second thought. Moreover, he will likely have the men bury themselves in the ground as well, right at the heart of themeet up location. Ye willnae see them, and they will spring up to attack.”
Keegan’s lips parted just a hair as the shock hit him. He quickly shook it off, and Willow could tell that he refused to believe such a thing, even about his sworn enemy.
“Ground men,” he spoke as if now putting the words’ meaning into his mind and locking it away for later. “Again, lass, to spring up and attack could verra likely causeyeto be injured. Magnus has a weddin' set for ye. Would he nae wish for that to be carried out?”
“I cannae say. I only ken that the man doesnae think of me in the same manner as ye do of yer own sister. He has despised me sister and me since our birth.”
“Willow,” she nearly flinched at the sound of her name from Keegan’s lips, “if ye think to dissuade me from the exchange by spoutin' lies about yer brother’s lack of concern for ye, it willnae work.”
She stared directly into the laird’s powerfully dark eyes, allowing every bit of herself to shine through her own stare. If her words could not convince him, perhaps they might.