Page 19

T rampled Sinclair banners lay in the mud, signaling their army’s defeat. Lachlan huffed, his worry and relief mingling like the Highland mist. He needed Ailis.

“Alisdair,” he called, “Lead our men. Attend to the wounded. I ride for the keep.”

Mounting his steed, Lachlan spurred it forward, racing toward the McAfee keep. The gates opened upon his arrival, and he dismounted with urgency.

The great hall hinted at past turmoil, now subdued. There stood Ailis, with her sisters Fiona and Moira fussing over her. Her green eyes met his, dissipating the chaos.

“Ailis,” he began, striding toward her, “Forgive me for taking so long to rescue ye. Our first thought was to do it without loss of life, but that wasn’t possible.” His voice bore leadership’s weight and sacrifice.

“I am here and unharmed,” Ailis reassured them, though shadows lingered in her tone.

Approaching her side, Lachlan attempted a smile that didn’t reach his troubled eyes.

“What of Ian?” she asked.

“Alisdair and I dealt with him,” Lachlan answered decisively. “His father and brother are at Clan McAfee’s mercy.”

Fiona and Moira retreated, leaving Ailis with Lachlan. Seating himself beside her, his presence offered silent protection.

“Ye have a mark upon yer cheek,” he noted, fingers brushing her skin gently. His gaze, reminiscent of winter’s chill, focused on the bruise.

Ailis faced him, green eyes displaying warmth as she admitted her clumsiness during the tower’s descent. “I slipped on one of the steps and fell against the wall. I’m fine, though.”

“None laid hands upon ye?” Lachlan asked, gazing into her eyes and praying no one had hurt her.

“None,” she assured him. “Well, Ian did, but I stomped on his foot and bit his lip. I feel as if I defended meself well. I am whole, Lachlan, saved by ye and Clan McAfee.” Her profound gratitude shone through her gaze.

Lachlan embraced her tightly, his arms solid as stone. Within his hold, they found solace, reassured by each other’s steady heartbeats. He whispered into her hair, their breaths harmonizing like life’s relentless rhythm.

*

In the keep’s great hall, Ailis sat silently with Lachlan. Duncan’s boots echoed as he approached.

“Daughter,” he called, “Are ye ready to face Arran and Callum? Ye must mete out justice for their transgressions.”

Rising from Lachlan’s arms, Ailis locked her green eyes on Duncan. “Father, I shall hear what they have to say.” Though her heart quivered, she accepted the responsibility.

Duncan nodded and stepped aside. Ailis entered the chamber where Callum and Arran were held. Shadows clung to the walls as Arran wove a tale of deceit and manipulation.

“I swear it wasn’t me own volition,” he answered tremulously. “A dark, unseen hand compelled our actions.”

“And who was controlling this dark, unseen hand?” Ailis asked.

Arran shook his head. “I have no idea. He always appeared to me in shadows.”

Ailis regarded him with a neutral expression. Beside him, Callum remained silent, neither confirming nor denying his father’s account.

“Speak, Callum Sinclair,” Ailis commanded. “Do ye have anything to add?”

Callum shook his head. “I was never told of the man Father speaks of. We were told we must have an alliance with the McAfees before winter, or our people would starve. So me brothers and I went about attempting to court ye and yer sisters. We followed orders, but we were not part of planning what was to happen. We were told to take ye from McAfee lands, and that’s what we did. ”

Arran glared at his last living son. “Ye could tell them I speak the truth.”

Callum sighed. “I know not whether ye speak the truth, Father. I do not know whether ye are speaking the truth now, or if ye did when ye spoke to us before.”

Ailis observed the two men, feeling the gravity of her decision.

Ailis’s solemn gaze fell upon the two bound men. “And what of yer people, the Sinclairs?” she asked icily. “Without a leader, what becomes of yer clan?”

Arran shifted uneasily, avoiding Ailis’s unyielding stare. Callum remained stoic, clearly unconcerned for those who once obeyed his every whim. Their silence conveyed self-preservation rather than stewardship.

“Speak,” Ailis demanded. Yet their apathy persisted, revealing their indifference to their kin and lands.

With a sorrowful sigh, Ailis turned and approached the oak door, grabbing the iron handle. She hesitated, torn between the healer’s heart and the chieftain’s duty.

Twice this day, she had crossed the line and killed men out of necessity. It weighed heavily on her soul. Could she condemn these men? They wreaked havoc but now they were simply pathetic. They did not need to die for her to live.

Ailis McAfee could find no solace in retribution. She stepped through the doorway, burdened by command.

Ailis entered the great hall, steps echoing softly against ancient stones that witnessed countless councils. The air was still as she found them waiting—Duncan, Alisdair, Lachlan, and Brodie.

“Ye have me gratitude.” Ailis’s voice carried both strength and weariness. Her gaze rested on Brodie. His eyes held quiet understanding. Gracefully, she approached him, kissed his cheek, and whispered, “Yer bravery has not gone unnoticed. I thank ye for the rescue.”

Addressing the gathered men, Ailis continued, “The Sinclairs are vanquished. Their kin must now choose—to join our clan or rebuild their own under a virtuous leader.” Her proposal hung in the air as she sought her brethren’s counsel.

“I must think more about what to do with the laird and Callum. They do not deserve to live, but I am not certain I can order them killed and still have a clear conscience.”

As murmurs of agreement rose around her, Lachlan stepped forward. “Come, let us walk,” he suggested with affection.

They strolled through the keep’s gardens to a small clearing where the widow who had helped them stood alone. “Elspeth,” Lachlan announced softly. “She gave us yer location when we couldnae find ye,” he whispered to Ailis.

Ailis approached the widow whose courage had changed their fate. “Ye have me deepest thanks.” She clasped Elspeth’s hand. “Please let me know if there is anything we can do to help ye and yer family settle on our lands.”

Elspeth nodded with a smile that showed resilience and fortitude. In her eyes, Ailis saw the essence of Clan McAfee—strength, loyalty, and commitment to kin. “I would be forever grateful if ye would allow me to serve in the keep. I am a good cook, and I need work.”

Ailis smiled. “Come to the keep in the morning, and I will introduce ye to Granny. She is the head cook, and she will be happy for the help.”

Elspeth smiled. “Thank ye.”

“Nay, thank ye for yer aid, even when it went against yer laird.”

“I did what was right, as I always try to do.”

As Lachlan guided Ailis deeper into the woods, ancient trees interlaced above them. Ailis’s thoughts were tangled with recent events, but Lachlan’s presence eased her slightly.

“Ye ken how I feared for ye,” Lachlan spoke, weighted by concern. “When I discovered yer capture, ’twas devastating. I’m so sorry I left ye when I was supposed to be standing guard. I will never forgive meself for that.”

Ailis glanced up at Lachlan. His eyes reflected both worry and relief. “I do not blame ye. And I’m fine now. I’m happy to be home where I belong.”

“Knowing ye are safe once more… It pleases me beyond measure.”

Before she could respond, he stepped closer and cupped her cheek gently. His touch was soothing yet filled with unspoken promises.

Their lips met in a fervent kiss that sought to banish fear and affirm life. They kissed again, each caress an echo of longing endured apart. In the forest’s serenity, they found solace in each other’s embrace.

Lachlan put everything he had into the kiss, as if he could protect her from the world’s cruelties through love alone. She accepted each offering. His arms healed wounds seen and unseen.

In Lachlan’s arms, Ailis momentarily forgot her burdens. She was a woman reunited with the man who captured her heart. As the woods stood watch, the future—with its trials and triumphs—lurked just beyond the horizon.