Page 81 of Claimed By a Ruthless Scot
“I have seen men break fer less,” he continued. “I have seen them hold on tae their silence until it cost them more than they were willing tae lose.”
The guard let out a low, humorless chuckle.
“Then perhaps ye’ve grown soft, me laird,” he said in a voice edged with mockery. “Or perhaps ye’re nae as feared as ye think.”
The insult lingered in the damp air.
Iain moved before the words had fully settled, anger flashing openly across his face. “Mind yer tongue, ye?—”
Duncan’s hand lifted, stopping him without a word. Iain froze, his breath sharp, but he obeyed. Duncan’s gaze never left the guard. If anything, it sharpened. He took another step forward, which was slow and deliberate, until the distance between them felt suffocating.
“Have ye hidden them well?” Duncan asked quietly.
The question landed differently. The guard’s expression faltered.
His brow twitched, confusion flickering before it was quickly replaced with something more guarded. “Hidden who?” he asked, though the effort sounded thinner now.
Duncan did not answer immediately. He let the silence stretch, let the question settle into something heavier.
“Yer wife,” he said calmly. “And yer child.”
The words struck cleanly. The guard’s breath hitched, barely noticeable but there. Duncan saw it.
“Somewhere in the woods,” he mused as if to himself. “Away from prying eyes, away from consequence.”
The guard’s composure started to show signs of cracking.
“How dae ye ken that?” he demanded, the first true edge of fear breaking through his voice.
Duncan smiled. It did not reach his eyes.
“I am the laird,” he said, almost softly. “I ken everything that happens in me lands.”
He straightened slightly, his presence looming now rather than closing in.
“I just dinnae ken where one single rat is hiding,” he added. “One that is infesting them.”
The words settled like weight. The guard’s breathing had changed now, becoming faster and uneven, his earlier defianceslipping. Duncan watched him. He did not need to threaten further. The fear had already taken root. And now, it would grow.
The man swallowed hard, his gaze darting between Duncan and the ground, as though searching for something solid to hold onto, and finding nothing.
“Ye…” his voice caught. “Ye wouldnae touch them.”
It was not a statement. It was a question. Finally, it was a plea.
Duncan did not move. “I am nae in the habit of harming women and bairns.”
The words were the truth, delivered without softness. Relief flickered across the guard’s face, but it was brief and fleeting, because Duncan did not stop there.
“But if something daes happen tae them,” he continued, “it will be because of ye.”
The relief shattered.
The guard’s head snapped up, panic flashing openly now. “Nay…”
“Becauseyechose this,” Duncan went on, his voice still controlled and still steady. “Yechose tae betray yer clan.Yechose tae bring danger tae me land.”
Each word landed like thunder.
