Page 79 of Claimed By a Ruthless Scot
There was no hesitation. The certainty in his voice caught her off guard.
“I will nae let ye put yerself in harm’s way fer me sake,” he continued, stepping closer now, his presence filling the space between them once more. “I will nae stand here and watch ye walk intae danger as if yer life means naething.”
“It is nae naething,” she argued, her voice rising despite herself. “It is precisely because it means something that I must go. If I stay, I bring that danger here. I bring it tae ye.”
Duncan stopped just in front of her. She could feel him too close.
“Ye are nae the danger,” he said more quietly now. “Mackenzie is.”
Elaina’s breath trembled, frustration and something far more fragile rising together. “And he will come fer me. Ye cannae deny that.”
“I dinnae,” Duncan said. “But I will face him here, on me land. I will nae allow ye tae face him alone.”
She shook her head again, more urgently now. “Ye dinnae understand?—”
“I understand enough,” he cut in. “I understand that ye think leaving will solve this, that it will protect me.” There was a softness to his eyes which only made her feel worse. “It will nae. Mackenzie has been looking fer a reason tae make war against me clan. Ye just happen tae be an incredibly lucky excuse tae get two birds with one stone.”
Elaina’s chest ached. “Ye cannae ask me tae stay and watch ye get hurt because of me,” she whispered.
“And I cannae ask ye tae leave and face that alone,” he replied.
For a moment, both fell silent. She cared too much about him to be the threat to both him and his clan. And it seemed that he felt the same way.
Duncan moved first. Slowly, as though giving her time to pull away if she wished, his hand lifted and came to rest against her cheek. His touch was gentle, so much gentler than she had expected from a man like him, from hands that knew battle far better than softness.
Elaina stilled beneath it.
The warmth of his palm against her skin unraveled something inside her, something she had been holding together with far more effort than she had realized. For a fleeting, dangerous moment, her vision blurred, and she felt the sting of tears threatening to rise.
She swallowed hard. She would not cry, not when she needed to be strong enough to walk away.
Her breath trembled despite her efforts to steady it, and she turned her face slightly into his hand before she could stop herself, seeking the comfort even as she told herself she should not.
“Why?” she asked quietly, her voice softer than she intended. “Why are ye trying tae keep me from daein’ the right thing?”
Duncan’s thumb brushed faintly along her cheek.
“How dae ye ken it is the right thing?” he asked.
The question settled heavily between them. She held his gaze, though it was becoming harder with every passing moment.
“Because it hurts more than any other,” she answered.
The words left her in a breath, quiet but certain. And they were true. Every part of her resisted this. Every instinct she had, every fragile piece of hope she had begun to allow herself, pushed her to stay. But she had learned long ago that what hurt the most was often what had to be done. The truth of it sat heavy in her chest, pressing against every fragile piece of resolve she had managed to gather.
Duncan did not move his hand from her face. If anything, his touch steadied with his thumb brushing lightly against her skin, as though he could feel the weight of her thoughts and the war she was fighting within herself.
“Stay,” he urged tenderly.
There was something else in his voice now, something she had not heard from him before. Something that slipped past the laird, past the man who carried duty like armor.
“Just one more night. Let me solve this,” he continued, and she could hear the certainty returning to his voice.
Her breath caught.
Elaina wanted to believe him. She searched his face, as if trying to measure the truth of it, not his ability, for that she did not doubt, but the promise itself.
“Ye cannae promise that,” she whispered.
