Page 39 of Wanted By the Wicked Highlander

Sebastian’s jaw tightened until the bone ached. He said nothing.

“The papers,” Hamish reminded him, shifting his weight. “They’re still unsigned.”

“I am aware.”

“She’s got two days left on yer agreement.”

“I am aware of that, too.”

“And the letter to MacKenzie’s wife?”

Sebastian stopped dead in his tracks.

Hamish stopped right beside him. Below the wall walk, the entire inner courtyard was visible. Across the frozen stones, near the kitchen garden gate, Alba was crossing with Brian attached to her side. Brian had his blunt wooden sword tucked firmly under one arm, his free hand wrapped tightly around hers. His small fingers were entirely lost in her grip.

He was talking rapidly, Sebastian could see the sheer animation of it even from this height, the enthusiastic tilt of the boy’s head, the emphatic gestures of a child making an important point.

Alba was looking down at him. He could not see her exact expression from this distance, only the gentle angle of her head, the slight, protective cant of her body toward the boy, and the easy accommodation of her pace to his shorter stride.

Something massive and heavy moved through Sebastian’s chest. It was a sensation he had no useful name for.

“She’ll go,” he said. The words came out level, stripped of every ounce of emotion he was refusing to acknowledge. “If I force the deadline, she’ll go straight to MacKenzie and take Brian’s best chance at a settled home with her.” He kept his eyes locked on the courtyard below. “And if I let the deadline pass without resolution, the council will question the arrangement, and I will have a different problem altogether.”

“So what do ye do?” Hamish asked quietly.

“I need her to stay.” He said it plainly, without ornament, because absolute clarity was the only thing that worked whenthe situation was dire. “Nae because the contract requires it. But because she’s right for Brian and…” He stopped himself.

Hamish waited, unblinking.

“Because the castle runs when she’s in it,” Sebastian finished. He heard how thin the excuse sounded. He was agonizingly aware of how thin it was. “I cannae manage this holdin’ without her runnin’ the other half of it. That’s a fact, and I’d rather say it plainly than pretend otherwise.”

Hamish looked at him for a long, heavy moment. “Is that the only reason, me Laird?” Hamish asked softly.

Sebastian looked back down at the courtyard.

Alba had stopped. She looked up with her chin level, her expression showing something complex and guarded, unreadable from across the distance. Brian was still talking, but she was no longer paying attention to the boy.

Her dark eyes found Sebastian’s across the cold, open space.

He held her gaze, refusing to look away, the tension pulling taut between them like a wire.

Then she turned away sharply, her hand still locked in Brian’s, and walked straight through the kitchen garden gate without looking back.

Sebastian watched the space where she had been. He reached down, picked up the axe from where he’d left it buried, and set a new log. He brought it down with a violent, shattering force. The two halves cleared the block entirely, landing in the frost-covered grass on opposite sides.

“Call a council meetin’,” he ordered, his breath pluming in the freezing air. “Soon. Every clan senior, MacGregor and MacLaren both.”

Hamish’s eyebrows moved slightly upward. “And Lady MacLaren?”

Sebastian set another log.

“Invite her.” He brought the axe down, splitting the wood clean through to the stone. “She’ll come. She willnae be able to help herself.”

Hamish made a sharp sound that was almost certainly a suppressed laugh and walked away before Sebastian could look at him.

* * *

The Solar was the only room in the castle that still felt completely hers.