Page 11 of Heart of the Highlands: The Rose (Protectors of the Crown #6)

It was quiet—almost too quiet. They continued navigating the hilly terrain, but the thick brambles and littered forest floor slowed their pace. The man was in desperate need of medical attention but appeared to be fighting the pain well enough. She was confident they had lost their pursuers or had put enough distance between them to allow them to stop and rest for a short time, and coming into a clearing protected by a wall of trees alongside a running creek bed seemed to be an adequate place to stop.

“We should make camp,” she suggested. “I imagine we have at least a few hours ahead of them, and we can use the darkness for cover. Are ye hungry? I can scavenge us up some food.”

“Nay. I’m…I am fine,” he answered with a broken response. Abby wondered if he was in more pain than he was letting on.

“How are yer wounds?” she asked, hiding her concern, though her expression was not as easy to hide.

“I’ve had worse,” he said, holding his hand tight against his abdomen.

Abby scraped the dead pine needles aside with the side of her foot to reveal the soft grass underneath, grateful that it was dry. Aiden settled down, resting his back against the trunk of a large oak tree. They had no blankets to keep warm or flint to start a fire. All they had was Abby’s bow and quiver, which weren’t very helpful at the moment. Abby unbuttoned her cloak and draped it over Aiden to keep him warm.

“What is yer name?” he asked.

“Abigail Sinclair, but most just call me Abby.”

“Sinclair. They are good people. Ye must be the best of them. My name is Aiden. Laird McKeirnan of Clan Rose.”

“It is a pleasure, my laird. I am happy I was there to assist ye when ye needed it before something terrible happened.”

“As am I,” he replied, wincing as he held the side of his chest.

“Ye are in pain, aren’t ye?” she observed gently, recognizing that he was trying to hide it.

Abby knelt beside him, her heart aching to help, even though she knew little of healing.

“’Tis just bruised, but it hurts like the devil,” he admitted, the strain evident in his voice.

Abby pushed her hair back from her face, wishing she could ease his suffering.

“Sometimes, when I’m hurt, my sister would help distract me from the pain. Would ye share a bit about yer home with me?”

“Alright, I suppose that could help. I come from just south of Moray Firth, at Kilvarock Castle.”

“And your family?” she asked softly, her concern palpable.

“My parents have been gone for a long time now,” he replied, a hint of sadness in his eyes.

“I’m truly sorry to hear that. I understand your pain; both my parents are dead as well. I never knew my mother; she passed when I was born, and my father followed shortly after when I was just five. My sisters took care of me after that.”

“My father was an Irishman. He came to Scotland as an officer on a ship when he met my mother. He’d be gone for weeks, and my mother would sit along the north shore every day, waiting for his return. Their love was greater than the height of any mountain. It was immeasurable. One day, my father took an assignment that forced him to be gone for months. My mother was heartbroken and had fallen ill. She died before he returned. She was so distraught my father could not live without her. He became angry and distant. One night, he ventured out to the water. They searched for him for days, but they never found him. He was presumed dead. My grandfather then raised me, but I grew up wit’ many of my cousins.”

“Oh, Aiden. I couldn’t imagine all you’ve endured.”

“I do no’ feel that burden. I am blessed and a mere vessel of the love they shared. There is nothing greater in life than love.”

As Abby reached out to gently place her hand on Aiden’s, he accepted her gesture with gratitude. They talked for nearly an hour. Their conversation flowed effortlessly, seamlessly transitioning from one topic to another. She confided in him about things she had never revealed to anyone else, finding it incredibly easy to talk to him. In return, he shared many stories until their eyes grew heavy.

In the dark, it was hard to make out his features other than the shadows on his face from the little light the moon cast, but there was a familiarity to him that she could not explain. He had a pleasant demeanor and gave off a sense of security that made Abby feel safe around him, though she kept herself guarded.

Abby settled down beside him, enveloped by the cool evening air. As she nestled close, she caught a faint scent of blood; the rich aroma of leather emanating from Aiden’s tartan and an alluring spice first captivated her senses. Aiden draped the edge of his cloak over her shoulders, a protective gesture that invited her to draw nearer. Together, they huddled for warmth, their bodies sharing the heat of a shared cocoon against the chill of the night.

“We should sleep now,” he instructed softly, his voice a gentle command.

Abby closed her eyes, yet sleep was elusive. Her mind churned with burning questions, a tempest of thoughts that kept her wide awake. As she stole glances at Aiden, she couldn’t help but notice that, within moments, he had drifted off, a light snore escaping him, a rhythmic sound that filled the silence around them. Her heart took pity on him. Judging his actions, she concluded he was strong at heart and refused to succumb to weakness. He reminded her of Leland. Being only her brother-in-law, he was the only father she really ever knew. She had few memories of Angus Sinclair. She was only five when he died, and though she had many childhood memories at that age, he’d travel often. So often that she barely knew the man.

The air was cold. Her limbs began to shiver, and her teeth chattered.

Turning to face her companion, Aiden began to stir. He looked peaceful. The contour of his jawline and plump bottom lip was nearly as perfect as the sculptures in Saint Ninian’s garden at the parish church in Ross-shire.

He was beautiful. No matter how much she denied the attraction, it existed.

Aiden stirred. Like the wind, his expression changed. His brows furrowed, and a soft whimper escaped his lips. His breath quickened, and his head shifted from side to side. Balling the fabric in his hand, Abby soon realized he was trapped in a nightmare. She crawled next to him and held a cautious hand on his shoulder. The light caress seemed to have settled him, and Abby had fallen asleep, her head resting against his shoulder.

It was not long until Abby heard the high-pitched sound of a wren singing its morning song. The sun had not yet risen, which in their particular circumstance was a blessing. She stretched, her muscles stiff from sitting stationary. Aiden was still asleep, though she didn’t know how anyone could sleep with that loud, wretched bird. She rose and went in search of food to break their fast. The sweet scent of earth and the fresh aroma of morning dew enveloped her as she spotted various critters emerging from their hidden havens to greet the day. The idea of a tender, roasted rabbit crackling over the fire danced enticingly in her mind, making her stomach growl, but she knew fire would mean smoke, and smoke would alert their pursuers to their location. Instead, they would have to settle on berries.

Abby returned to the tree where she’d left Aiden sound asleep. He stirred as she approached, causing him to stand quickly to defend himself.

“It’s just me,” she said to calm him, afraid he might confuse her for someone and trample her. “I brought ye something to eat,” she continued, holding the berries toward him with an open palm. “Tis no’ much, but it’s something.” Abby dumped the berries into his hand and watched him as he popped them into his mouth one by one. Abby’s feet felt rooted to the ground as the sky began to lighten. It was him . An undeniable certainty coursed through her veins; it was him—the man from the market. Every detail, every flicker of memory, flooded back to her with startling clarity. This was why he had haunted her dreams, the figure that lingered in her visions. She could feel an inexplicable connection pulling her toward him, urging her forward with a single, resolute truth, she was meant to save him.

She had rehearsed this moment so many times in her head of what she would say if she were ever to see him again, but the fact had remained that though she may know him, he may know nothing of her. Her secret, her gift, was not something she freely shared. Perhaps this very moment was the reason fate had brought them together. For now, she’d keep this to herself.

“How are ye feeling this morning?” she asked him.

“Angry,” he said with a sharp tongue. Abby understood. With all he had been through, she had no doubt he wanted revenge.

“Do ye know who they were?” she asked.

“No, exactly, but I have my suspicion. They mentioned they were hired men. My guess is Laird Munro sent them after me. He wants my land. E’en threaten me to get it.”

“I concur that Laird Munro is no’ the most favored Laird in the Highlands. But if that’s true, then I would assume he will keep coming after ye.”

“What do ye mean?”

“Well, if he wanted ye dead, ye’d be dead already. Clearly, there is something ye have that is important enough to keep ye alive. Those men had plenty of chances to off ye, wit’ ye being tied up like that. Yer better off finding out what he wants or whatever it is before it, or ye are useless to him.” Abby wished she could see his future in a vision, but her mind was as void as a starless night. “T’will be light soon. We should leave.”

Abby slowly circled. They had run and walked for hours in the middle of the night, and nothing looked familiar, and there was no telling how far they’d gone. She had no idea where they were or which way to go. A hint of panic set in when she realized they might run right into Aiden’s assailants if they went in the wrong direction.

Aiden must have sensed the unease that gnawed at Abby, for he also cast a thoughtful glance around the dense forest, assessing the paths ahead.

“Come, he will follow the flow of the creek. It must lead out to a nearby river; where there is a river, there will certainly be a village,” he explained.

Abby hesitated, biting her lip in apprehension. “But what if they don’t take too kindly to strangers?” she inquired, her tone laced with concern.

Aiden shrugged, his expression resolute. “We will have to take our chances.”

With a deep breath, Abby stepped behind him, the sound of the babbling creek guiding their way.

After nearly an hour, they reached the point where the creek widened into a meandering river, just as Aiden had predicted. Across the river, a silhouette of a towering structure began to emerge, its sharp outline defined against the soft glow of the morning sun.

Aiden’s gaze remained fixed on the cross perched high atop a rising tower. His heart began to settle with the sight. He knew exactly where they were as they reached the river’s edge. He exhaled slowly, a sense of peace overtaking him. His shoulders relaxed for the first time in hours.

“We are safe, lass.”

His companion, still tense, squinted in the direction he pointed. “How can ye be certain?”

Aiden smiled faintly, lifting his hand to gesture toward the distant church. “Ye see that, o’er there? That is the Priory of Beauly, a place of refuge. More importantly, it lies on Mackenzie land.” He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. “We’re no’ on enemy territory but among friends.”

They crossed the river with ease, the sound of the flowing water growing fainter as they ventured northward toward the imposing stone walls of the Makenzie stronghold. They crossed through the gates into the bustling courtyard and were greeted by the sights of servants tending to the horses and guards keeping watch. One of the men standing outside at the guardhouse approached them.

“Visitors,” he called out to the others. “What business do ye have with Laird Mackenzie?”

Aiden stepped forward, shielding Abby. They were on neutral ground among allies, but he was not about to take any chances.

“My name is Aiden McKiernan, Laird of Clan Rose. I need to speak to yer laird at once.”

The man eyed them suspiciously but gave a sharp nod as he quietly turned and led them to the keep. Aiden and Abby followed him inside and were instructed to wait in the front foyer. Columns and arches lined both sides of the long entrance hallway, and the high ceilings allowed them to see the second-floor walkways above. They stood at the bottom of the staircase that ascended before them.

Through one of the many side doors, a tall man with broad shoulders and a protruding belly emerged.

“Laird McKiernan, I did no’ think I would see ye so soon. What brings ye out this far west?”

“It’s a long story, but first, let me introduce you to Lady Abigail Sinclair. Abby, this is Colin Mackenzie,” Aiden replied, gesturing gracefully toward the lady beside him.

“Lady Sinclair,” Colin said with a respectful nod, his expression warm yet formal.

“I do no’ wish to intrude on ye. It is imperative I return to Inverness at once,” Aiden explained.

Colin glanced over Aiden's shoulder, his gaze settling on Abby.

“Perhaps the lady would appreciate a warm bath and a hearty meal,” he suggested, his voice smooth and inviting. “Then you and I can discuss matters in a more secluded setting. Bonnie!” he called out loudly. Within moments, a young woman, who looked tired and worn with unkempt hair and bags under his eyes, entered the room. “Please ensure Lady Sinclair is cared for,” he instructed.

Aiden turned to Abby, his dark eyes filled with concern and anticipation, silently hoping she would not voice any objections.

“Ye will be fine. I will come find ye soon,” he promised.

Abby nodded and followed Bonnie up the staircase. Aiden watched until she reached the top step. She rounded the corner and disappeared. Once he knew she was safe, he followed Colin to his study to explain their circumstance. His mind was already turning toward the next steps. He had to protect Abby, first and foremost. She saved his life, and his debt must be repaid. But once that was achieved and she was far from harm, he would turn his attention to the treacherous Laird Munro. The attempt on his life was a grave mistake, and he would make sure it would not go unpunished.

Aiden stepped inside the laird’s solar behind Colin. In the center of the room was a large hearth with a roaring fire heating the room. On each side sat two wooden chairs with worn velvet cushions. Laird Mackenzie sat down in one of the chairs. Aiden followed in step and sat across from him. The man, who was of considerable age, was still imposing in stature. His eyes, sharp and calculating, gazed into Aiden’s as he waited for him to tell his tale.

“My laird, I appreciate yer hospitality, but we cannae stay long. I require a horse and safe passage to return the lady to Inverness. I have business with Laird Munro.” Aiden continued to explain all that had happened and his allegations against the Munros.

“Ye know the risk, lad. Munro’s a man no’ to be taken lightly. But if ye are set on it, I’ll stand beside ye. Ye’ll have my support in whatever ye may need. But first, I ask that ye stay and join me for dinner and get yerself a good night’s rest. I’ll see to the horse and yer safe journey.”

“Thank ye,” Aiden said. He stood and took Colin by the hand.

The rest of the evening passed in a quiet, comfortable lull. After a long hot bath and given clean garbs to wear, Aiden and Abby joined the laird and his clansmen in the great hall for the evening meal. They listened to the stories of the other clan members, making it a lighthearted and enjoyable evening.

When the meal was finished, they were led down a dimly lit hallway to a small chamber on the upper level. A fire already burned in the hearth, and a large comfortable bed was made up, the woolen blankets inviting after spending the last night out in the cool air. Aiden could see the tiredness in her eyes, nearly bloodshot and barely able to stay open.

“Ye should get some rest,” he said softly, knowing the night ahead held uncertainties. “I will keep watch for a while.”

“Ye wish to stay…here..in my room?”

Aiden glanced down at Abby, her unreadable expression hinting at the tension that filled the air. Her face was set in a hard line, masking thoughts of what could come next.

“It’s just to keep ye safe,” he replied a sense of resolve in his voice, determined to stand guard. He insisted on staying, even in the safety of allies.

The night was unnaturally still, the kind of silence that clung to the edges of Abby’s thoughts and made every slight noise feel amplified. The wind outside Castle Mackenzie howled through the high stone towers, rattling windows and making the ancient walls groan in protest.

Abby sat on the edge of the large four-post bed, her back straight as she stared at the flicking flames in the hearth. He should have been grateful for the safety of the castle, thankful that they were finally out of danger from the men hunting them. But her thoughts were scattered, her nerves still on edge. The event of the past two days felt like a blur, constant movement, adrenaline, fear, and in the wake of it, she found herself growing tired in a way that sleep could not solve.

And then there was Aiden.

She couldn’t ignore him, not after everything that had transpired. She still had not told him about her visions. She was uncertain why she kept her gift from him, especially when all her visions led her to this moment and him.

His desire to protect her and make her feel safe made her feel like he could weather anything.

She glanced over at Aiden, who stood near the door to the bedchamber, his tall form outlined by the soft glow of firelight. He hadn’t left her side since they’d arrived. As a man of honor and duty, his instincts were evident.

“Ye should rest too,” she said quietly.

“Aye, I will,” he replied.

He didn’t move toward the bed, nor did he make any move that caused her discomfort. He had made himself a small bed of blankets on the floor. She settled back against the pillow, her mind racing as she tried to sleep. She shifted slightly under the covers, trying to make herself more comfortable as she listened to the soft rustle of his movements.

Abby lay on the soft bed, pulling the thick blanket higher to hide her face as though somehow that might shield her from feelings rising within her. She stared at the ceiling, her thoughts restless despite her exhaustion. She turned slightly, glancing toward the fire where Aiden sat before the hearth. His broad shoulders were hunched forward. His posture, while calm, still radiated tension. The muscles in his back and arms flexed even as he sat still, and if his body would not relax. He did not need to be so protective, yet he remained steadfast.

She felt a longing, an urge to reach out to him, to somehow ease his burden. He was too proud, too stubborn, and too determined to protect others, but so was she. She walked straight into danger to free him without regard for herself.

The sound of his soft, steady breathing calmed her. She glanced at him again, noticing for the first time the subtle weariness in his posture and his eyes closed as if he had fallen asleep in the chair.

A small sigh escaped her lips before she could stop it, and she quickly bit down on her lower lip, her fingers gripping the blanket tightly. It was a good thing he could not see her face, for surely, she was bright red. She did not want to shy away from the feelings swirling within her. If anything, it fueled her curiosity more, drawing her deeper into wanting to explore these growing feelings. She only wondered if he felt the same.

“Ye’re safe, lass. I will no’ let anything happen to ye,” he said after a moment as if to reassure her.

Her heart swelled at his quiet promise, and though she knew little of him, she believed in him. He crossed the room to the makeshift bed on the cold stone floor. A part of her wanted to invite him to share the bed. It was large enough for the both of them, but the pull she felt toward him, the force that seemed to draw her in, filled her with a sense of apprehension. She went from wanting to be close to him to wanting to be closer. But the fear of the future, of what fate lies ahead, she was too scared to risk it.

As sleep began to claim her, Abby closed her eyes. The soft warmth of her blankets and the faint scent of Aiden’s presence eased her worries. Though she knew she would never admit it aloud, she wished the night would never end, for tomorrow they would return to Inverness and part ways, possibly forever.