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“Aye, wife?” He smirked as he settled into the seat beside her. She wanted to kiss him and strangle him at once.

“Serve the Laird and Lady,” Lady Moira ordered the servants.

“Oh,” Duncan piped up, “I am sure they have… eaten well.”

“Duncan!” half the table groaned.

Ewan decided that he had stayed silent long enough. “So, should we expect an heir soon?”

Isla wished the floor would open up and swallow her whole.

Alisdair hadn’t claimed fully, giving her time to adjust. But she could tell that he was barely holding back from pouncing on her. And she was barely holding back from begging him to do as he wished.

“What ye should be expectin’,” Alisdair warned his brother, “is a lot of stable duties in the foreseeable future.”

Isla chuckled, and everyone at the high table followed.

But just as their laughter died down, the door flew open to reveal Gavin, his face pale, his eyes searching out Alisdair with urgency.

“Me Laird,” he called.

And just like that, Isla knew something was wrong.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

DARK CLOUDS

Alisdair looked around his study and gritted his teeth, his back coiled as though bracing for an attack, even within the safety of his own castle.

The truth was not far from that.

“Show me,” he barked.

Gavin moved to the map on the desk and pointed at a spot. “The scouts say that they saw them around here.”

“Two days away,” Alisdair hissed.

Everyone tensed in the room.

Ewan was leaning against the wall, a deep scowl on his face. “We can be upon them in a day,” he said.

“Ewan,” Alisdair warned.

“If we ride out now, we can⁠—”

“We willnae rush into this!”

“Rush?” Ewan stiffened. “They are almost at our borders.”

Alisdair looked at the map and pressed both hands flat against the desk to steady himself. He must be cursed. The one moment he had found something for himself, the one moment his heart had finally thawed for Isla, threats came knocking. He should never have⁠—

Nay, Isla deserves more than remorse.

“How many, Gavin?”

“It is a large group,” Gavin replied. “The scouts counted a hundred strong.”

Alisdair struck the desk hard enough to make it creak, then drew in a deep breath and forced the mask of the composed Laird back into place. He couldn’t ignore the coincidence—Mary’s report that Sinclair was gathering his forces, and now this group appearing out of nowhere.