Page 128 of The Laird's Masked Passion

A woman at the lower table bowed her head. Beside her, an older man closed one hand around his cup.

“They stood where I placed them,” Colin continued. “They obeyed their orders, and they died protecting the road intae these lands.”

Elspeth felt grief move through the hall like wind through grass.

“Their bodies will be brought home. Their families will be provided fer. Their names willnae be forgotten.” His voice did not break. It did not soften. Yet no one doubted the promise. “Robert Munro believes death will divide us. He believes fear will make us turn against one another, hide behind our doors, and abandon those beside us.” Colin looked across the gathered clan. “He is wrong.”

A murmur answered him.

“He has spilled MacKenzie blood. That blood will be avenged.”

The murmur deepened.

“But hear me well,” Colin spoke, and the hall stilled again. “Nay man leaves these walls seeking private vengeance. Nay family rides alone. Nay one gives Robert another life because anger made him careless.”

Elspeth watched the men listening. There was rage among them. Fear as well. But neither became defiance beneath Colin’s command.

“I will protect these lands,” he vowed. “I will protect every village, every family, and every soul who shelters beneath this name.”

His gaze moved briefly to Elspeth. The look lasted no more than a heartbeat. It nevertheless felt like a vow made only to her.

“And I will find the man responsible.”

There was no shout when he finished. Instead, the clan struck their cups once against the tables. The sound rolled through the hall like distant thunder. Colin inclined his head and sat.

Elspeth looked at him. He appeared as cold as he always had; stern, controlled, severe enough to frighten. But his people did not mistake coldness for indifference. They knew him. They knew that once Colin MacKenzie gave his word, he would spend blood, sleep, comfort, and life itself before allowing that word to fail.

The clan was afraid. They’d buried friends. They expected more violence. Yet when they looked toward their laird, fear did not become doubt. They believed in him and his words.

Elspeth reached beneath the table and placed her hand over his. Colin glanced down, then toward her. His fingers turned beneath hers and closed around her hand. The gesture was hidden from the hall, but the promise was not.

Elspeth promised she would wait for him in bed.

Colin remembered the words through an hour of discussions concerning grain stores, northern patrols, replacement horses, and the wisdom of moving several families within the castle walls. By the time the last councilman left, Colin’s patience had become a thin and endangered thing.

He went directly to their chamber. The fire was burning. The bed curtains had been drawn back. Elspeth’s gown lay folded across the chair, but Elspeth was not there.

Colin stopped in the doorway. “Elspeth?”

There was no answer. The room seemed to alter around him. He searched the bathing chamber, then the adjoining passage. Skye had not seen her. Neither had the guard at the stairs. Within minutes, Colin crossed half the castle. The prisoner’s words followed him.

He means tae kill her first.

Colin checked the kitchens, the small solar, the battlements, and the lower hall. With every empty room, fear tightened its hand around his throat.

Eventually, he found her in the stables. Elspeth was standing near the open doors, wrapped in a dark cloak, watching the stars beyond the courtyard wall. Relief struck so violently that it emerged as anger.

“What are ye daeing?” he demanded.

She turned sharply. “Good heavens, Colin. Must ye appear from darkness like an accusation?”

He frowned. “I have searched the entire castle.”

Her expression changed. “I told the guard where I was going.”

“The guard neglected tae tell me.”

“I only needed air.”