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I n the great hall the following morning, Ailis sat beside her sister Moira, dreading the game they would play, though she didn’t ken what it was.

It was the fact she knew she’d be playing with the three suitors, and she was more than a little sick of them.

She wanted to drive her knife through Lucas’s hand.

She didn’t think he needed to be killed just yet, but maiming seemed like a good thing where he was concerned.

The aroma of fresh bread filled the air. The laird spoke from the head of the table, his voice echoing throughout the large room.

“Today’s quest is one of strategy and cooperation,” he announced. “Gather items of significance, present them before the feast, and the successful team shall dine with me in honor.”

Ailis and Moira were assigned to Lucas, Horas, and Bearnard as a team.

Eager to prove himself, Bearnard tried reading their list of items but struggled with the words.

Ailis gently took it and read aloud with Moira.

If it was a race, she knew they needed to get the details out quickly, and Bearnard was the only one of the men who was able to read.

Thankfully, she and Moira were taught to read as small lasses.

“A tuft of heather from the moors,” Ailis began.

“Antlers shed by a stag,” continued Moira.

“An unusually shaped stick, an arrow taken from another’s quiver,” listed Ailis.

“Berries plucked from bramble, forest leaves,” chimed Moira.

“Wool strands shorn from a sheep,” Ailis added.

“An adornment for hair—perhaps a bow,” suggested Moira softly.

“Plaid not woven by kin, water drawn from the loch,” Ailis continued.

“A pitchfork from the fields, and a fish from the streams,” Moira finished.

The diverse list ignited determination in her.

The McAfee sisters had always won everything they set out to win, and this challenge would be no different.

Ailis felt the weight of expectation mixing with excitement for the hunt.

As Ailis and Moira watched the men bicker over the possible antler locations, they shared a determined nod. They ventured out to gather items on their list.

Moira deftly plucked at a slender, twisted stick adorned with vibrant berries. “Behold!” she exclaimed, scanning the forest floor for more unique finds.

As they ventured deeper into the woods, their excitement grew as they spotted various colorful leaves and plants to add to their collection. “Imagine how well we’d do if the men could figure out how to help us instead of arguing,” Moira mused.

Ailis laughed as she moved toward a farmer’s wife to ask for a tartan in exchange for the brooch she wore.

“Can we trade for that shawl? It would be lovely on ye,” Ailis asked a nearby farmer, holding up the brooch in exchange.

Across the stream, Moira eagerly haggled with a cheeky, giggling girl for a bright hairbow to add to their collection.

The two of them also managed to convince a surprised farmer to lend them his metal pitchfork in exchange for Moira’s shawl. As they walked away from the farmer, Moira said, “I dinnae mind being cold for a short while. I do mind losing.”

After an hour of exploration and successful trades, they returned to the keep with an impressive bounty of treasures.

After what felt like ages of listening to Lucas, Horas, and Bearnard argue back and forth upon their return, Moira sighed with impatience. She motioned for Ailis to follow as they slipped away into the dense woods, their footsteps rustling through the fallen leaves.

Among the twisted branches and tangled roots, they uncovered a set of magnificent antlers, gleaming in the dappled light. With a triumphant smile, they emerged from the forest and proudly presented their find before any of the other teams could catch up.

As the evening meal was being prepared, Moira couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction as she sat next to the very men who had doubted her earlier.

Ailis leaned over to whisper in her ear, “If I had been solely focused on the reward, I would have been much less eager to win.”

The warm glow of success filled Moira’s chest as she realized that sometimes, winning was its own kind of reward.

With a knowing glance between them, both sisters prepared to endure an evening filled with the men’s prideful boasts.

They would never let on that the women had won the contest for them while they argued. It wasn’t in their nature.

*

Seated at the supper table, Ailis exchanged a weary glance with Moira amidst the men’s boisterous claims of triumph. The sisters partook in the meal, its flavors soured by the injustice of unacknowledged efforts. Their contributions were ignored as the men kept bragging of their win.

As the great hall thrummed with music and dancing, Moira approached Lucas with a jest upon her lips and challenge in her eyes. “Lucas, is it any wonder I bested ye with swords? Seems to me all yer clan is adept at is throwing ceilidhs.”

Lucas stiffened with offense. “Moira, ye mistake our hospitality for idleness at yer peril,” he retorted.

But Moira merely shrugged and turned away, discarding his umbrage with ease.

Ailis observed, caught between amusement and empathy. In her sister’s defiance, she recognized a rebellion against expectations. Yet bound by duty and obligation, she remained a spectator, feeling more annoyed by the moment.

As Laird Gordon’s voice rose above the fading music, he announced, “On the morrow, we shall partake in learning a new dance.”

The words weighed heavily on Ailis. She exchanged a glance with Moira before they slipped away to their bedchamber. A new dance meant dancing with the same three idiots they’d been forced to dance with since their arrival.

In the sanctuary of their room, Ailis sat at the edge of the bed while Moira paced, the firelight casting shadows upon her face.

“Can ye believe those men?” Moira asked indignantly. “Taking credit for our efforts as if we were naught but ornaments.”

“They see only what they wish to see,” Ailis murmured. “Our contributions are whispers in a storm to them. There’s no way we would have won if we hadn’t taken matters into our own hands.”

“Promise me, Ailis,” Moira pleaded suddenly, standing before her sister. “Promise me ye’ll never let me wed someone like Lucas. I’d sooner take vows with an Englishman.”

“We may be bound by duty,” Ailis agreed, “but our hearts must not be shackled to lazy men such as those.”

As night enveloped the castle, the sisters found solace in their shared win. They knew the work they’d done to win the contest, and it didn’t matter if others knew. They had won yet again.

*

Ailis and Moira skipped the morning meal the following morning and left the castle’s festivities for the primal rhythm of the hunt. They had felt as if they were only doing frivolous things since the games had ended, and they needed a day to do something productive.

Retrieving their bows from their trunk, they entered the forest, sharing a silent language beneath the sheltering boughs. They could hunt the food they needed for the day and not return to the keep until nightfall.

Hours passed before two noble stags fell to their arrows. They carried the stags to the kitchen, where the cook exclaimed, “Ye were to spend the day learning a new dance!”

“We needed to do something that wasn’t frivolous,” Ailis declared. She and her sisters had long been working in any way they could find. These people seemed to play before they worked, which didn’t sit right with either her or Moira.

*

The evening was filled with swirling tartans and laughter in the great hall, but Ailis and Moira conversed at the edge of it all. Lachlan and Brodie joined them, their easy conversation revealing their shared interests.

Laird Gordon’s sharp voice interrupted their reprieve, reminding them of their place within Highland society. “Ye must mingle with those ye do nae know,” he commanded, obviously wanting them to stay away from the McClain men.

Ailis and Moira rose, parting ways with Lachlan and Brodie. Ailis wanted nothing more than to spend time outdoors or hide away, but she knew better. She must at least pretend to be trying to be part of the celebration.

As the evening’s festivities swelled around Ailis, she yearned for the quiet respite of her chamber. She glanced at Moira, who shared her feelings.

“Let us retire,” Ailis suggested. “We’ve already spent more time here than I would like.”

“An excellent notion,” Moira agreed wearily.

Their departure was blocked by Bearnard and his companions, Lucas and Horas, all flushed from ale and arrogance.

“Ye’re leaving the celebration so soon?” Bearnard asked.

“We’ve had our fill of frivolity,” Moira replied coolly.

“Is our presence not to yer liking then?” Lucas challenged. “Ye weren’t here to learn the new dance.”

Moira’s voice sharpened. “Yer eagerness to take credit for a victory not earned has left us longing for companionship from men who actually know how to work hard.”

Ailis added, “Yer quarrels over antlers while we secured our win speaks volumes.”

Silence hung heavy before Moira and Ailis maneuvered past the trio. “Mayhap on the morrow ye can reflect on the virtues of humility,” Moira suggested over her shoulder.

Then Moira whispered, “Never let me marry someone like them.”

“I will not. I assume ye will return the favor?” Ailis asked as they reached their chamber door, anticipating peace and freedom from expectations within.