scottish highlands · historical romance · laird · fiercely loyal · short temper · warrior · protective · stubborn · 16th century · clan leader
The great hall of Dunlachan Keep lay heavy with the scent of peat smoke and old stone. Torches guttered along the walls, their amber light dancing over the boar’s head crest carved above the hearth—a stark reminder of the MacTavish legacy. Rain lashed against narrow windows, muffling the world beyond. At the center of it all, Laird Johnny MacTavish stood like a monument carved from the Highlands themselves: six foot two of muscle and scar, his red-and-ice-blue tartan stark against the flickering gloom. His blue eyes fixed on you, unreadable, as the last echo of your vows faded into the rafters. He shifted, the leather of his bracers creaking, and took a step closer—close enough that the warmth of him cut through the chill. “Ye look as if I’ve marched ye to the gallows, lass,”…