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His brother rode up alongside him, a vengeful look on his face. “Throw her away, Alisdair. Or even better, drag her to the dungeons.”

Isla gasped at the sheer hatred dripping from his words.

“Ewan,” Alisdair warned, his voice calm but firm.

“I want to speak with ye, me Laird,” Isla said.

Alisdair studied her for a long, agonizing moment. She realized, distantly, that whatever dangers waited for out there paled next to this man. Still, her resolve did not waver.

“It’s a trap, Alisdair!” Ewan snarled.

Alisdair’s gray eyes moved from her white knuckles to the meager satchel at her side to her chapped lips.

“Please, me Laird,” she pressed.

“Let her through,” he ordered.

“Ye cannae be serious!” Ewan protested. “Ye’re going to allow a snake into our castle?”

Alisdair said nothing, only watched as she dismounted and let a servant lead her mare away.

She watched Luath disappear toward the stables with dread.

“No harm will come to her,” Alisdair assured her.

Her eyes snapped to his.

“Ye will talk, and I will listen,” he added, dismounting. “If I daenae like what ye tell me, ye leave with yer mare.”

Something in her chest loosened. She was inside his castle, and he was willing to hear her out. It was better than nothing.

“Follow me,” he ordered.

Isla knew she had no choice now but to follow him, so she did.

She had braced herself for the dungeons. Instead, he led her to a study lined with books and maps and ledgers, a fire burning warm in the hearth.

He closed the heavy oak door behind her but didn’t lock it. A small mercy.

“Drink,” he said, offering her a cup of whisky. “For warmth.”

Isla took the cup and sipped carefully.

He moved toward the fire but didn’t sit. “Talk.”

Isla didn’t care for his tone, but she had far bigger problems than his manners. So she took a deep breath, knowing she only had one chance to make this land.

“I am here to marry ye.”

If she had expected to elicit any reaction from him, she would have been wrong. He only studied her carefully with those stormy grey eyes.

“Very bold of yer uncle to send ye with this proposal.”

“It isnae me uncle. It is me.”

He crossed the room slowly, giving her every chance to flee, to scream at having a man his size stalking her. But she held her ground.

“Ye want to marry me,” he said, his voice laced with a mix of disbelief and teasing.