Page 68 of The Laird's Masked Passion

“It isnae romantic.”

“Nay? A feast fer yer wedding, with music and dancing. Yer lady beside ye, being admired by the village.”

Colin’s hand tightened over the edge of the table.

The memory rose before he could stop it, Elspeth standing in the courtyard, face pale but steady, asking what could be done.

“She is me wife,” Colin reminded them. “Her place is beside me when the clan gathers.”

Murdoch gave a low sound. “Aye, that soundedalmostconvincing.”

Colin straightened. “Careful.”

Breac lifted his hands in peace, though his eyes did not surrender. “We are only saying ye may like her.”

“I dinnae.”

“Nay?” Murdoch asked.

“I barely ken her.”

“Yet ye ken when she is frightened,” Breac said.

Colin went still.

Breac’s expression sobered a little, but not enough. “Ye ken when she is hiding it. Ye ken when she is angry because she is hurt, and when she is angry because she wants tae be. Ye ken she will stand before a grieving widow though half the village is measuring her. Ye ken she has more courage than sense and enough tongue tae make up for both.”

“That is observation.”

“That is attention,” Breac pointed out.

The word landed too close. Colin turned away and poured whisky into a cup he did not want. He did not drink it. He only held it because his hands required occupation before they became fists.

He thought of his father’s portrait, and the way the clan whispered that he inherited the eyes, the temper, the darkness. Love had not saved his mother. It had trapped her. It gave his father a name for possession and a sanctified excuse for cruelty.

Colin learned young that wanting was safer than loving. Wanting had limits. Wanting was the body, and the body could be commanded. Desire could be used, satisfied, denied, forgotten if one had enough discipline.

It did not ask a man to open locked rooms. It did not make promises. It did not turn him into his father.

And he wanted Elspeth. He wanted her sharp mouth beneath his. He wanted her flushed and furious and breathless against a tree. He wanted to see the moment confusion became pleasure in her eyes. He wanted to take all that pride and coax it,challenge it, undo it until she understood her body was not built only for fear.

Wanting her made sense. Loving her would be ruin.

Colin set the untouched whisky down. “There cannae be anything between us, because I ken what me blood is capable of.”

Breac’s face hardened. “Ye arenae him.”

Colin’s eyes cut to him.

Breac did not retreat. “Ye arenae yer faither.”

“Dinnae.”

“Someone should.”

“I said dinnae.”

Silence struck the room again.