He worked to ease his tension, and it was not working. No matter how he reminded himself of reality, something within him cried out for a fantasy that could never be made flesh.
“The MacMillans arenae here.”
Keegan finally broke his stare with Willow to regard Rodrick. As the words sunk in, the laird cast his eyes over the field once more. It was true. The MacMillans were nowhere in sight, and it was odd to think that Willow’s betrothed would not be there to see the exchange. She had been stolen on her way to wed him, after all.
She was set to marry the laird’s brother. Why wouldnae the man wish to see her returned to Magnus unharmed? To ensure the arrangement could go through?
When—against better judgment—the laird turned back toward Willow once more, he saw her grim expression. She’d heardRodrick, of course, and there was no denying that her groom-to-be was not in attendance.
Nae a single person in her life appears to value her. Such little regard is tossed in her direction. It is a disgrace.
His thoughts had gotten carried away again, and Keegan forced himself to turn back toward the center distance just as Damon shouted, “Magnus!”
Pointing, Damon gestured toward the field, and every muscle in Keegan’s body went rigid.
“Remain with Damon and Rodrick, Lady Willow,” Keegan chewed out, his tone somber and dark. “When the time comes, I will call for ye.”
There was no response from her, but Keegan could feel Willow’s stare driving a blade through the back of his head. He could not look back. He just…couldn’t. Melissa needed him, and the thought to do something rash was too near the service. Looking back at Willow…it would have sealed a fate he didn’t know if he was prepared to serve.
Magnus approached the center of the space between their lines, and Keegan was quick to follow suit. Melissa remained with Magus’s men in a similar face as Willow. Seconds dragged on into eternity until they at last stood face to face in the middle of their troops of warriors.
Daenae give him an inch, Keegan.
Pain of regret, memories of the past, and so much more than the laird would not allow himself to name, swirled through him. He stood there in the silence, eyeing the smug McCallum bastard like the horrid thief he was. As the man cocked a brow at him, the need to say something finally overtook Keegan.
“I daenae see the MacMillans here to watch over the handoff of their bride. Were they too busy?”
Magnus sneered, a puff of breath leaving his nostrils like a bloated boar.
“Pft. I shouldnae presume to understand what the MacMillians fill their days with. I can only assume that they have canceled the engagement.”
Keegan’s stomach dropped, and he clenched his fist where it rested on the pommel of his sword.
“What cause would they have to do that?”
A horrid laugh was choked out by Laird McCallum, and Keegan swallowed down the urge to unsheathe his sword and swing it through the bloody ingrate's stomach.
“Willow was taken by yerself, wasnae she? I can only assume that her husband-to-be dinnae enjoy the idea of placing his saber in a scabbard that had already been cleaved through.”
“What?”
Keegan had obviously heard the man well enough. However, despite everything he personally knew about the man and what Willow had told him herself, it was still somehow impossible to believe that such words had left his mouth.
“She was taken by another man! Bah,” Magnus rolled his eyes, “her reputation is utterly destroyed. I would’ve thought that was part of yer lofty goals, Brahanne.”
Bile rushed up the back of Keegan’s throat. He had…done things with Willow that his mind knew he should regret, but he had not claimed her virtue, not entirely. The idea that he was believed to be such a brute was both enraging and enough to fill him to his hairline with guilt.
There had been no moment where he possessed the intention to ruin the lass’s chances of a solid marriage match. Regret pulsed through him at the notion of doing her even that bit of harm. He had never, in fact, thought to be near her at all. Still, everything about Willow had pulled him in, a moth to the flame and just as singed.
But hehadn’tclaimed her.
And Willow did not deserve the scourge of that slight against her name or virtue. There were few a lass who did, but especially not the woman who had bargained so bravely for the safety of her men.
At once, a grimmer thought took hold of Keegan. His stare roamed across the field and again landed on the slim figure that stood behind Magnus’s line of savage-looking warriors.
His Melissa, the sister who had been the heart of their unruly crew of three, was currently standing held behind the front line of Magnus’s men. Had she suffered a similar fate to the one the bastard was describing? Had he…touched her?
There was no doubt in Laird Brahanne’s mind that Willow had been a willing participant in their time together. Still, the same could not be said about Melissa. She would want nothing to do with such a foul man, and she had possessed her own anger for his abuse of their family—the death of their parents.