Page 4 of Laird of Wrath

“I willnae die,” he said, sounding perfectly certain of himself.

The worst part was that Rhea was inclined to believe him.

Her breath caught when he pressed a tender kiss to her cheek, right next to the corner of her lips. It caught her by surprise, but it also sent another wave of desire through her.

“I will return,” Callum promised, his eyes boring into her own. Then, he abruptly pulled back and walked off to the door, stopping there to look over his shoulder at her. “And once I do, I will claim ye as me own. So prepare yerself.”

2

“Iwill do everythin’ in me power to stop this.”

Sienna gave Rhea a small smile. She was sitting by the window in the drawing room, pale morning light bathing her in blue. Her dark hair cascaded down her back, untied yet brushed to perfection, as always.

She looked so much like Callum, yet acted so unlike him that their resemblance faded in Rhea’s mind. Her pale gray eyes seemed to reflect the dull sky outside, the bleakness of the day infecting everything around it, even Sienna herself.

Callum… damn that man.

Ten months gone. Six months without a single word. Many thought him dead, and there was nothing Rhea could tell them to assuage their fears. How could she, when she feared the very same thing?

“And I ken that ye will,” Sienna said in her sweet, surprisingly alto voice. Yet Rhea knew she was only saying it to make her feel better.

It was far from an easy task to stop what was coming.

Rhea had donned her most regal, most armor-like garments—a dress of fine wool, dyed a deep red and trimmed with gold thread and lace, suffocating around the waist, keeping her back pin-straight and her head held high. Sienna was similarly dressed in a dark blue gown, more understated as the sister of the Laird and yet just as imposing.

It was all they could do when they couldn’t hold a sword, when they couldn’t tower over those men who came to their home to threaten them.

“I will fight him with me own hands if I must,” Rhea quipped, trying to lift Sienna’s spirits.

It did draw a soft laugh out of her, but she didn’t seem any brighter for it.

“I truly fear ye might, Rhea. I wouldnae be surprised if ye brought him bleedin’ and bruised to me door.”

“Me Lady,” Lara’s cheerful, lilting voice called from the door as she poked her head through the gap. “He is here.”

Rhea turned to Sienna once more, giving her a reassuring smile. “Are ye ready?”

“Nay,” Sienna replied, shaking her head. “But let us go.”

The walk to the Great Hall was tense and silent, only the click of their shoes echoing around them. Every servant, every guard they passed on their way was just as tense, as if the sudden arrival of their guests had plunged the entire castle into a great sense of danger.

They weren’t entirely wrong. Though they weren’t in danger in a literal sense, without Callum there, Rhea didn’t know how she could ward off this threat.

Two guards opened the door to the Great Hall to reveal an entire delegation of people from Clan Barclay. And there, standing at the head, was none other than Lennon Edwards, the Laird of Clan Barclay.

The sight of him gave Rhea pause. She had expected a more impressive man, someone as commanding as Callum—as much as she remembered her husband. But the man standing before her was nothing like him, nor like the kind of man who could lead a clan.

He was older, probably in his late thirties, with blonde hair that had begun to gray at the temples. His dark eyes were scanning the room slowly, stopping at every single councilman who was there to oversee the meeting, before finally landing on her and Sienna. He smiled.

Something unpleasant curled in Rhea’s stomach. She didn’t like the look on his face, the way he was staring at the two of them as if he enjoyed what he was seeing. She didn’t want him to enjoy what he was seeing at all. She wanted him to be frightened off.

“Welcome, Laird Barclay,” Rhea greeted, taking the lead before he could. Sienna trailed behind her as she approached the man, bobbing a curtsy that was only as deep as propriety demanded, before straightening up once more. “I hope yer journey wasnae too unpleasant.”

“Nae at all,” Laird Barclay said, bowing to the two of them. “A long journey is a small discomfort when I will be rewarded with such a bonnie bride.”

Next to her, Sienna remained silent, her shoulders rigid. She gave Laird Barclay nothing, and that gave Rhea great satisfaction.

“Ye are here to discuss the possibility, Laird Barclay,” Rhea corrected him. “Lady Sienna hasnae accepted yer offer yet.”