Then he laughed under his breath, surprised despite himself. “Still feisty,” he said.
Her chest rose and fell quickly. Defiance burned bright in her eyes.
He leaned closer again, their breaths mingling. “I am nae leaving this village without ye,” he told her quietly. “Withoutbothof ye.”
“We daenae need saving,” she whispered.
“This isnae about saving,” he replied. “It is about safety.”
He held her gaze, letting her see the unyielding resolve there. Laird McIntosh, the man, would not be known to make idle promises. Not anymore.
“There are strangers asking questions,” he continued. “A lass has vanished. I willnae gamble with the lives of those under me protection.”
“I am nae under yer protection,” she argued.
He let that pass.
“I will be staying at the village’s inn tonight,” he said instead. “Tomorrow morning I will return to McIntosh Castle. Ye and Jamie will come to the castle with me.”
She hesitated, her eyes shifting wildly from side to side as if her brain was catching up with a new piece of information. He saw it in her features trying to mask a battle raging just below the surface. Pride against fear. Independence against the instinct to shield the child at any cost.
“And if I refuse?” she asked quietly.
His expression hardened, though he kept his voice calm. “I would rather ye came willingly.”
A long silence followed.
Finally, she exhaled slowly. “As yer prisoner?” she asked defiantly, and he almost enjoyed the sound of that more than when she lied.
“Nay, nae as me prisoner, lass.”
“Tell me that me mind isnae playing tricks on me in this moment. Tell me this is real. Tell me who ye are… truly.” Herwords were clipped, and he knew that his answer should be one that resolved all of her questions at once.
“I am Frederick Milligan. Laird of McIntosh. Ye and yer child will be safe with me. I give ye me word, Iona Pearson.”
Her features paled and then blushed. Relief flickered through her, brief and unwelcome. And she tried and failed to force it down.
“Very well. We will go with ye tomorrow.”
He grinned and angled his head slightly in acceptance. “Very good,” he said simply.
He stepped back then, giving her space at last. The distance felt strange after the charged closeness. He straightened his cloak, settling once more into the role he knew best.
Yet as he turned toward the door, those green eyes lingered in his thoughts, sharper than any memory he had tried to bury.
Outside, Lennox’s laughter drifted faintly through the open window, mingled with the rustle of herbs and the child’s stubborn voice arguing about trivial matters.
Frederick paused at the threshold and glanced back once.
Iona stood where he had left her, shoulders tense, gaze guarded. And whatever secrets she carried, whatever fear haunted her steps, he would uncover it. Not for curiosity. Not for desire.
For protection.Herprotection.
And this time, he would not lose sight of her again.
4
Iona Pearson was infuriating.