Page 53 of The Laird who Craved her

"Open the gates and clear the bailey!" Douglas bellowed over the howling wind.

Claire stood on the sheltered stone steps of the keep, watching the massive iron grates swing inward as riders poured into the muddy courtyard, their horses lathered and blowing hard against the cold.

"Friend or foe, Douglas?" she called, pulling her shawl tighter around her shoulders.

"Sinclair banners, me lady." Douglas lowered his broadsword.

"Come to see for themselves whether the rumors from the south hold any truth," Finn added, stepping out from the heavy oak doors to stand beside her. He wore his leather cuirass over a fresh shirt, and his face gave nothing away as he watched the men dismount.

"Is that Ewan Sinclair at the front?" Douglas asked, squinting through the mist.

"Aye," Finn said flatly.

"Well met, Finn MacRae!" A young Highlander strode toward the steps, wiping rain from a sharp jawline and grinning as though the weather owed him nothing at all.

"Ye picked a miserable day to ride north," Finn said, not moving from his spot on the stairs.

"The glens dinnae wait on sunshine to start talkin'." Ewan stopped at the bottom step, hands on his hips. "What news, Finn? What are they sayin' down south?"

"We'll talk of it once I'm properly thawed," Finn said, waving the question off, and only then did his eyes find Claire and stay there.

He pulled his soaked bonnet from his head slowly, as though he needed the extra second to look at her properly. "By all the saints. The rumors in the glens dinnae do ye justice, me lady."

"Ewan Sinclair, Lady Claire," Finn said, and something in the flat delivery of it carried more warning than any raised voice could have.

"A true honor." Ewan offered a bow despite standing knee-deep in mud.

"The honor is mine," Claire said, smiling.

"Just Ewan, please. Titles feel too heavy in this rain."

"As ye wish, Ewan."

"I must ask." His eyes glinted with mischief. "How does a man like MacRae secure a bride of such wit and beauty?"

"A very demanding contract," Claire said quickly, eyes bright.

"Ah, that explains it. Finn could never manage the charm on his own." Ewan laughed, loud enough to carry across the bailey.

"Inside, Ewan," Finn said.

"Only if Lady Claire allows me to escort her."

"I would be delighted." Claire stepped forward and set her hand in the crook of his offered arm.

Finn watched the whole of it in silence, his jaw set hard enough that a muscle jumped visibly along the line of it.

Inside the great hall, he reached the high table first and pulled out the chair to his own right before Ewan could offer his arm again. "Sit here, Lady Claire."

"Thank ye." She settled into it, smoothing her skirts.

"I'll take this one, then," Ewan said easily, dropping into the chair on her other side.

Finn's knuckles went white where his hand rested on the table, but he said nothing as the hall filled with loud, rain-soaked soldiers and the smell of hot broth.

"So, Lady Claire. How d'ye find the Highlands?"

"Cold," she said honestly, wrapping both hands around a cup of cider. "And extremely wet."