Page 31 of Highland Heroine (Brides of the Highlands #3)

D awn broke over the rugged Highlands as Moira and Ailis slipped their hands beneath Brodie McClain’s shoulders. Their coordination was a silent dance of care.

“Ready?” Moira asked with quiet strength.

Brodie nodded, defiance etched on his determined face.

Together, Moira and Ailis helped him into a seated position.

Moira was happy to learn about any healing methods from Ailis, now that an injury had touched her life so completely.

She’d thought it was a waste of a warrior before, but now… Now she understood.

“Ye can do this, Brodie,” Moira encouraged.

His hands clenched into fists, muscles coiling in preparation. Leaning forward, he pushed through the pain that threatened to overwhelm him. “Up we go,” Ailis prompted softly but firmly, her vibrant green eyes focused on Brodie.

He rose shakily. Despite his anger at his own weakness and the treachery that had brought him low, his confidence remained unyielding.

“Step now,” Moira instructed while steadying him. Each faltering step was a trial for them all.

“Yer strong, Brodie. Stronger than the oak,” Ailis added calmly.

Brodie stepped forward and slowly straightened up. As hard as simple tasks had become for him, he cherished the small accomplishments…like standing without his legs buckling under him.

Brodie’s knees trembled, muscles protesting with each step across the stone floor.

Moira steadied him with her grip. Ailis, her sister’s quiet counterpart, mirrored Moira’s support on his other side. Years of shared trials allowed them to communicate through subtle nods and glances.

“Ye can do this,” Moira murmured against their collective breath. She celebrated each one of his victories. He was becoming himself again before her eyes.

Exertion painted Brodie’s face with sweat, jaw tense as he fought pain with each stride. “Just a bit further,” Ailis coaxed, her lilt softening the room’s tension like a tribute to the land’s spirit.

Reaching the heavy oaken table, they paused for Brodie to rest. Ailis dabbed his forehead with a cloth while Moira breathed deeply nearby.

“Have ye heard?” Moira whispered to Ailis. “Clyde Stewart is trying to rally the last of the Clan Sinclair warriors?”

“Aye,” Ailis replied grimly, her green eyes darkening. “The whispers grow louder with each passing day. Clyde’s ambition knows no bounds.”

Moira’s grip tightened on the edge of the table, her knuckles whitening. “He seeks to unite the clans under his rule, no matter the cost. The very thought turns me stomach.”

Brodie, his breath evening out, fixed his gaze on the sisters. “We cannae let that happen. The Highlands must remain free, each clan master of its own fate. We serve only the queen.”

Ailis nodded, her dark hair catching the light filtering through the narrow windows. “The Stewarts’ treachery runs deep, like a poisoned well. We must be vigilant.”

“And prepared,” Moira added, her voice hardening with resolve. “Clyde will stop at nothing to achieve his twisted vision. We must be ready to meet him on the field of battle if necessary.”

Brodie pushed himself upright, his lean frame still unsteady but determination etched in every line. “I will not let my clan, my family, fall victim to Clyde’s machinations. I may be wounded, but my spirit remains unbroken.”

Ailis placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “We stand with you, Brodie. Together, we will weather this storm and emerge stronger.”

Moira’s fierce gaze swept over them both.

“Aye, we will. And when the time comes, we’ll show Clyde Stewart and his Sinclair lackeys what it means to face the wrath of the Highlands.

” But in the back of her mind, she worried about the type of men who were still loyal to the Sinclairs.

Was it possible that Stewart would gather an army full of murderers and Brigands?

And if so, what would they be willing to do to serve Clyde Stewart?

A knock at the door interrupted their conversation. Moira strode over and opened it, revealing a clansman with a grave expression. “Urgent news from the border,” he said, his breath coming in short gasps. “Clyde Stewart’s forces have been spotted, and they’re heading this way.”

Moira’s eyes narrowed. “How many?”

“At least a hundred strong. They’ll be upon us by nightfall.”

Ailis and Brodie exchanged a worried glance. They were in no condition to fight, not with Brodie still recovering from his wounds.

Moira turned back to them, her expression resolute. “We have no choice. We must prepare for battle.”

Ailis nodded grimly. “I’ll gather the women and children, make sure they’re safe.”

“And I’ll rally the men,” Moira said as she helped Brodie back to his cot. “We’ll not let Clyde Stewart take what’s ours without a fight.”

“Can we trust the source?” Ailis replied softly.

“Trust is scarce these days.” Moira frowned. “But if it’s true, we’re all at risk.”

“Let’s hope not,” Ailis said, glancing at Brodie.

“Hope is a luxury,” Moira countered quietly. “We must prevail.”

*

Hooves clattered on stone. A royal emissary had arrived.

Moira approached the entrance. The messenger dismounted hastily, panting and extending a sealed parchment toward her.

As Moira grasped the letter, she noted the unbroken seal of Mary de Guise—Queen Dowager of Scotland. She thanked the messenger, her tone steady despite inner turmoil.

Returning to Brodie’s side, Moira announced, “From Mary de Guise,” before breaking the seal and reading aloud: “‘Clyde Stewart has blatantly disregarded Scottish law by taking lands not his own, spilling blood without honor…’”

Moira continued, detailing accusations that deepened the gravity of their situation. Brodie’s fists clenched—a silent vow to protect what was theirs.

“Stewart’s ambition will be his undoing,” he declared.

“Or ours if we don’t act quickly,” Moira added. “We must plan and meet this threat head-on.”

Ailis nodded, her expression solemn but resolute, beside her sister.

The silence hung heavily in McAfee Keep after Moira finished reading the letter.

Brodie and his kin shifted uncomfortably, their anxiety palpable.

Ailis stepped forward, her green eyes glowing with determination.

“We cannot let fear dictate our path,” she declared, suggesting envoys be sent to allied clans to inform them they were needed yet again.

It felt like the armies had barely left, and they needed them back again.

She hoped the other clans would take the threat as seriously as they were.

As agreement spread through the room, Brodie’s thoughts turned to strategy. But first, he needed to face his own battle: regaining strength in his limbs. With Moira and Ailis beside him, Brodie focused on the task of rehabilitation.

“Steady,” Moira encouraged as he pushed himself up from the chair, legs trembling.

“Focus,” Ailis added gently.

Brodie took a breath and willed his body to obey. Each shaky step was more than just physical progress.

*

Brodie tensed as he pushed himself up from the oak chair, his knuckles white. With each attempt to stand, his body protested, but the determination in his eyes remained. Moira stood close, her red hair reflecting her passion, ready to lend support.

“Ye can do this, Brodie,” she said firmly. “One step at a time.”

Nodding, Brodie slowly rose to his feet, legs trembling and unsteady. The room seemed to hold its breath, filled with anticipation and the faint scent of peat from the hearth.

Gritting his jaw, Brodie took two halting steps forward. Moira’s hand hovered near his elbow, promising steadiness should he falter.

When he stumbled, Moira’s hands guided him back to security. Her touch was a lifeline.

“Look at me, Brodie,” she urged gently.

Their eyes met, and something wordless passed between them—an understanding that weakened pride and pain. He saw not just his own reflection in her gaze but also their shared loyalty.

“Thank ye, Moira,” he breathed softly.

“Ye need not thank me,” she replied earnestly. “We face this together.”

A rare smile graced his lips as they continued their painstaking rehabilitation process. Their bond had grown deeper than either anticipated.

In the secluded stone chamber, Moira’s hands moved over the parchment, her red hair cascading like a warrior’s banner. The intensity in her eyes grew as she read Mary de Guise’s letter once again.

“Can ye believe this?” she hissed to her sisters and brothers-in-law, Alisdair and Lachlan, gripping the letter tightly. “Clyde Stewart endangers not just our kin but all the Highlands.”

Ailis, standing by the window, turned to face Moira. Stormy concern filled her usually peaceful green eyes. “I ken,” she replied evenly. “But we must tread carefully to avoid provoking a war we can’t win.”

“Carefully?” Moira scoffed. “While they plot like wolves? Nay, Ailis, ’tis time for action!”

“Action, aye,” Ailis agreed, stepping closer with a calming presence. “But it must be precise. We should call a clan meeting and gather more allies who share our cause.”

Moira’s rigid posture softened at Ailis’s words—a strategic spark ignited within her.

“Allies…” she murmured. “We have envoys going to the clans who just left with their armies, asking them to come back. Thankfully, there are still McClain soldiers here, and when you add in the McAfees, and the people who joined us after leaving Clyde, we can definitely handle them.”

“Exactly.” Ailis nodded, the plan taking form in her mind. “We’ll need support from Highland Clans bound by honor and tradition—not fear or coercion.”

“It’s settled,” Moira declared, determined despite looming uncertainty. “As Highlanders, we stand together. We’ll protect our family, lands, and way of life—no matter what comes.”

Their gazes locked, solidifying a silent pact to fiercely defend their clan. Together, they would navigate treacherous politics and weather the gathering storm.

As night fell and there was no army, Moira went to Brodie. “I do believe Clyde took his army to Sinclair Keep. He’ll continue using it as his base of operation, I fear.”

Brodie nodded. “It would make sense for him to do so. Tomorrow morning will bring battle, most likely, and Alisdair and Lachlan are most likely hurrying to make preparations. Thank God you and the ladies have kept the hunting going, and we can feed whomever we need to feed.”

“And we’ll keep at it. There’s no reason for anyone to go hungry.”