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A t the McClain keep, Ailis McAfee observed the members of the McClain clan mingling with the men who had accompanied her. Boyd McClain’s grin stood out as he wove his way through the crowd. He was the youngest of the seven McClain brothers, being only fourteen.

In a moment of joviality, Boyd caught Ailis’s eye before vanishing from sight.

She inquired to a nearby clansman who dismissed her concern, saying Boyd was simply quick on his feet.

Uncertain, she hesitantly nodded but couldn’t shake the lingering confusion.

He had been there one minute and was gone the next.

Later, Caitlin McClain led Ailis into the great hall, filled with the scent of roasting meats and herbs. Seated at a sturdy wooden table, an unfamiliar dish was presented—meat atop something she had never seen before.

“What is this?” Ailis asked.

“Something new from far-off lands,” Caitlin replied serenely. “We call it taco meat on potatoes.”

Ailis sampled the concoction. Bold flavors danced upon her tongue, offering a brief respite from duty and obligation.

“This is wonderful, Lady McClain,” Ailis praised sincerely.

“It’s a favorite of all me sons, but Lachlan loves it the most. As soon as yer group arrived, he asked me if we could have it for the evening meal.

“I agree with him. I want this always served if I come for a visit.” Ailis didn’t ask a lot of questions about the food because she’d already been told that there were several recipes that the McClains didn’t share.

She could happily eat it often, though, and she would make sure Lachlan knew she wanted to continue to visit his family, if only for this meal.

At twilight, Ailis and Lachlan walked along the loch’s edge. The water mirrored the sky, while leaves rustled and night birds called softly. “It’s so beautiful here,” she whispered. “I want to jump into the loch.”

Lachlan laughed. “I would agree, but it’s cold this time of year. Besides, I’m not sure how me men would react to the two of us looking like drowned rats after our swim.”

“Frozen drowned rats!” She couldn’t help but giggle at the idea.

“We swam here every summer,” Lachlan recounted. “After a long training session, there’s nothing better than jumping into the loch and cooling off.”

She smiled, imagining him swimming with his brothers. “Upon our return, we must address Cameron,” Ailis reminded her. It wasn’t something she wanted to talk about, but they must make plans for what would occur when they were back on McAfee land, and face-to-face with Cameron.

Lachlan’s eyes smoldered like winter peat fires. “Leave it to me,” he assured her. “Cameron will not go unchallenged.”

A weighty silence fell between them before Ailis reached out, their brief touch igniting a warmth within her. He swiftly pulled her into his arms, and they shared a passionate but restrained kiss.

“Me father would not be pleased were he to see us,” she whispered.

He chuckled. “He would not. But at least there will be no more talk of ye being courted by Cameron, and he’ll have to agree to that.”

After parting, they returned to the keep hand in hand. That night, Ailis found solace in a luxurious bed—the softness enveloping her worn form as she reflected on the sacrifices demanded by duty and her obligations to the clan.

As she lay in the bed, she thought about Lachlan, wondering if this had been his bed. She knew he was sharing a room with one of his brothers, and the thought of him sleeping in the room she used filled her dreams that night.

*

Dawn broke as Ailis and her companions readied for their return journey. Emerging from the keep, they gratefully accepted provisions from the hospitable McClains.

Their departure carried a ritualistic farewell, hinting at alliances and unspoken trust between clans. They traveled through landscapes of moor and mountain, heather-laden paths, and murmuring streams. The rhythmic hoofbeats marked the distance between yesterday’s warmth and the uncertainty ahead.

As twilight descended, Ailis’s family’s home appeared in the dimming light.

Before its gates stood Cameron, his anticipation clashing with his stoic posture.

Ailis felt his intense gaze before meeting it but refused to acknowledge him.

Lachlan had stated he would deal with the man, and she would allow him to do so.

She had no desire to ever speak with him again.

Firmly gripping the reins, she focused on the wooden doors offering refuge from travel and intrigue. She passed Cameron, dismissing him, and entered her home.

The wooden door to her chamber closed quietly, and Ailis drew in a breath scented with beeswax and linen. As she traced the tapestries depicting McAfee valor, she heard footsteps. Her sisters entered the room, their faces etched with concern.

“Listen closely,” Ailis urged. “Cameron is not who he claims to be. He’s of Clan Sinclair, and I fear his intentions are dark.”

Her sisters gathered around, absorbing the gravity of her words. In the hearth’s flickering glow, the room seemed to grow smaller.

“How do ye know?” Moira asked.

“I saw him in a Sinclair plaid, and he argued with Ian. His charm is but a guise,” Ailis continued. “Lachlan has asked me to allow him to deal with Cameron, and I have conceded. I have no desire to ever speak with the man again.”

Fiona spoke gently, “Remember, ye’ve chosen Lachlan McClain, and an alliance formed not just of politics, but of love as well.”

Ailis nodded, acknowledging her sister’s words. “Together with Lachlan, we shall face whatever storm the Sinclairs may brew. And I like the idea of a marriage with Lachlan, but he has not yet asked for the alliance to be a permanent one.”

Fiona grinned. “He will. Ye can see it in his eyes when he looks at ye.”

She sat with her sisters for an hour, listening to the news of the clan since she had taken up residence with Doirin. It was good to simply sit with them and understand that they supported her completely.

When her sisters left, the servants carried water into the room. As servants poured water into the tub, Ailis watched the ripples dance upon the surface. Once alone, she shed her travel-weary garments and stepped into the bath. The heat embraced her skin, and she sank beneath the water’s caress.

As Ailis washed away the journey’s grime, the silence around her absorbed her whispered concerns over Cameron Sinclair’s deceit.

After her bath, she ate her meal in solitude, each bite fueling her for the trials ahead.

Ailis was torn between duty and her affection for Lachlan McClain. The conflict intensified as she contemplated Cameron’s darker motives, wondering if his charm could have swayed her had she not been captivated by Lachlan.

*

Ailis rose, the morning sun casting shadows across the stone floor. She dressed in silence, fastening a silver brooch at her throat. A hesitant knock sounded at the door, and she opened it to reveal Cameron Sinclair.

“Good morn, Lady Ailis,” he greeted with feigned humility, “I have come to offer me sincerest apologies.”

“And what are ye apologizing for, Cameron?” she asked evenly.

“Last eve, I was overzealous in me attentions toward ye,” he confessed without meeting her eyes. “It was me own folly. I have not had a chance to see ye in several days, and I imagined ye would walk straight into me arms. But that didn’t happen, and I could see I made ye uncomfortable.”

“Yer words do not sit well with me,” Ailis replied, voice cold. “Ye are a deceiver, and I want naught to do with ye. I told ye I had chosen Lachlan, and that decision stands firmly between us.”

Before Cameron could respond, Laird McAfee’s voice echoed in the corridor. “Cameron Sinclair, attend me in me study!” The command was sharp.

Ailis watched Cameron bow and retreat toward the laird’s chambers. He hadn’t seemed to realize they knew who he really was, as they’d used the name Sinclair and not McAfee.

Within the study, Laird McAfee stood behind his desk as Arran Sinclair entered. “Arran Sinclair,” Laird McAfee began forcefully, “ye have sought to manipulate me daughter’s affection through this man’s treacherous guise of courtship. Speak now yer intent.”

Laird Duncan McAfee’s expression showed the difficult path ahead as he announced the termination of their clans’ bond.

“Arran Sinclair,” he declared, “the bond uniting our houses is now severed. Yer kin’s actions destroyed our alliance’s foundation. Keep yer people within yer land. We are no longer allies.”

Arran Sinclair scowled, his pride obviously wounded, and left without a word or apology, his cloak billowing as if erasing all remnants of their former friendship.

Ailis, hidden in the shadows, shivered with foreboding. After Arran retreated into the distance, Ailis grappled with the potential consequences of this moment.

With Sinclair gone, her father stared at the landscape he swore to protect. Ailis observed his clenched jaw and tightened grip—symbols of resolve.

Ailis contemplated the balance between love and loyalty and how happiness may be sacrificed for duty. A tear slid down her cheek as she questioned if her choice would ignite enmity between once-united clans.