Page 33

A ilis observed the training soldiers, her green eyes reflecting the turmoil below. The arrival of clans pledging their swords was constant and gave her hope for the future. Lachlan and Alisdair led the training field, while Brodie helped sharpen each warrior’s skills with the sword.

A cry interrupted the metallic symphony—a soldier had fallen, clutching his arm in pain. Ailis hurried to aid him, assessing and bandaging the wound expertly. “Ye’ll be holding yer sword again soon,” she promised as he acknowledged her help with a faint smile.

She continued her rounds, tending to injuries, her hands stained with healing herbs. Swiftly responding to calls for help, she never wavered in her commitment to mend flesh and lift spirits.

*

Ailis observed the clan’s women venturing into the dense woods, bows and quivers at the ready.

The McAfee lands, once full of laughter, were now filled with people who worked hard.

It was good to have the entire clan working as one.

They had always worked hard, but there had been time for merriment as well.

Now it seemed like there was no time for any idle task.

The forest provided for them, as always, but it was now the women who brought back the bounty. Ailis paced restlessly within the keep’s stone walls, longing to join them but knowing her skills were needed elsewhere.

Injuries abounded as men trained tirelessly with swords from dawn until dusk.

Ailis treated wounds and whispered comforting words, yet she missed days spent roaming Highland forests.

It was strange how annoyed she’d been by the frivolity of the Gordons while she was there, and now she yearned for just a few moments of fun.

News arrived discreetly: The McKays, tied to the McClains through marriage long ago, secretly served as allies against the Stewarts’ alliance, though the Stewarts though the McKays were an ally. Ailis studied their letters carefully—each a flicker of hope during the worry of war.

Despite the valuable intelligence they provided, unease lingered in Ailis’s heart. The path they walked was perilous. Sacrifices were made for the greater good. Her hands, once only used for healing, wielded the power to influence future battles.

Ailis’s responsibilities constantly weighed upon her. Duty called her to heal the soldiers, but it came at the cost of her tranquility. Each day blurred personal desires and political necessities until she wondered if peace would ever return to her beloved Highlands.

*

In their bedchamber, Ailis found solace in Lachlan’s warm embrace. The chaos of the day melted away as he held her, his touch like a balm for her weary body. The walls of the keep, thick and sturdy, seemed to envelop them in a cocoon of safety, shielding them from the outside world.

“Ye are me sanctuary,” Ailis breathed against Lachlan’s chest, feeling his steady heartbeat beneath her cheek. He pressed a tender kiss to her forehead, bringing her comfort without words.

They filled the quiet with lighthearted chatter, using this precious time together to escape the weight of their responsibilities beyond the keep’s walls.

“I wish we could stay like this forever,” Lachlan murmured, intertwining his fingers with hers. Wrapped in luxurious fur blankets and surrounded by hushed whispers, they reveled in the tenderness and intimacy that came with being newlyweds, cherishing these moments.

Ailis sighed contentedly, her heart full of love for the man she now called her husband.

“As do I. But we both know our duties await us on the morrow.” She traced the strong line of his jaw with her fingertip.

“For now, let us savor this time, just the two of us, and draw strength from it for the days to come.”

Lachlan captured her hand and brought it to his lips, brushing a kiss across her knuckles.

“Aye, ye are wise as always, mo ghràdh.” His eyes, the color of the lochs on a clear summer day, gazed at her with an intensity that made her breath catch.

“I am the luckiest man in all the Highlands to call ye me wife.”

“And I the luckiest lass to be yer wife,” Ailis whispered, emotion thick in her voice. She reached up to caress his cheek, marveling at the love and devotion shining in his eyes. In Lachlan’s arms, she was cherished, protected, and complete.

Their lips met in a tender kiss, a gentle exploration that gradually deepened as passion ignited between them. Lachlan’s strong hands roamed her curves, leaving trails of heat in their wake. Ailis tangled her fingers in his dark hair, pulling him closer, craving his touch.

*

Moira and Fiona led the other women through the forested wilds, returning each evening with game for the tables. Laughter filled the air alongside piper melodies.

Fish from lochs and streams contributed to their feasts, making many Sinclairs join forces with the McAfees for survival. And the McAfees were happy to call more people their allies.

Ailis watched from beside Lachlan, observing faces that revealed hints of looming conflict—laughter edged with tension and somber notes beneath songs of kinship. Yet within the McAfee keep, a fragile sense of normalcy persevered among the embattled people.

“Ye bear the future gracefully,” Lachlan murmured, taking Ailis’s hand under the oak table.

“It’s no small task ahead,” she replied.

“But we’ll face it together.” She gazed at him for a long while, wanting to be able to close her eyes and still see his face.

She was confident they would win, but in the back of her mind, she was frightened of losing him.

But if she could still see his face in her mind, then she would have memories of him.

*

As metal clashed and men strained in battle, silence enveloped Ailis when an elder woman entered McAfee keep.

Her hair flowed like silver streams, her eyes held ancient knowledge, and her hands were marked by years of tending to the wounded and sick.

This was Skye, the renowned healer who once aided Ailis’s own family.

“Ye’re here,” Ailis breathed, acknowledging the famed healer.

She wasn’t sure if she was intimidated by the woman or excited to work with her.

“Me grandmother asked for ye on her deathbed, but she died before I had a chance to send someone for ye. She always told me ye were the best healer in the Highlands.”

“Yer grandmother’s spirit led me here,” Skye replied, her voice saturated with earthy tones. “Together, we shall aid those in need.”

Under Skye’s tutelage, Ailis learned even more about medicinal herbs, pain-relieving pressure points, and healing incantations. She observed Skye’s effortless grace, as each touch provided relief.

One afternoon, a cry interrupted the training field’s commotion. Lachlan emerged with a bloodied arm injured from errant steel. His eyes met hers—annoyed with himself for the injury yet embarrassed at the way she hovered over him.

“It’s just a scratch,” he insisted. The surrounding redness indicated otherwise.

“Skye should tend to it,” Ailis urged. Despite wanting to help him herself, she knew Skye had more wisdom in healing, and she longed to become more skilled herself.

Skye approached and began treating the wound using water as clear as a loch and a pine-scented poultice. Ailis absorbed each careful step. She had a feeling she would need every ounce of healing skills she could gain.

“Ye’ll recover soon enough,” Skye assured him after securing the bandage. “But be more mindful during training.”

Lachlan smiled at Ailis. “With such skilled healers around me, how could I not?” His words eased the worry that had tightened around her heart.

“Come now,” Ailis urged, her voice light but firm. “We have a duty to heal and protect. Let’s prepare for what lies ahead.”

They nodded in agreement, understanding the responsibility they carried. As they faced the encroaching night, their devotion to their people, each other, and their homeland remained unyielding.

*

The November chill had settled upon the McAfee lands with a frosty embrace, seeping into the very bones of the people and the earth alike.

Ailis watched as men from various clans, their breaths misting in the cold air, labored side by side to erect the garrison that would shield them from winter’s cruel embrace.

It was a structure born of necessity, each log and stone placed with the urgency that the encroaching frost demanded.

“Ye work as if the very devil were after ye,” Ailis remarked to a group of men securing the roof.

“’Tis not the devil, me lady,” one of the men called, pausing to wipe his brow, “but Winter herself. She is a most unforgiving mistress.”

Ailis offered a nod of acknowledgment, lingering on the sinew and sweat that bound the men in their common purpose. It filled her with a sense of pride and heavy responsibility that her home could be a bastion for so many.

Later, Lachlan found Ailis near the loch’s edge. With a tender hand upon her shoulder, he coaxed her away from the fortress.

“Come, me heart,” he crooned, his blue eyes reflecting the water’s tranquility. “Let us steal a moment for ourselves.”

Hand in hand, they strolled around the loch, the water lapping gently at the shore like a whispered conversation between old friends. Their steps were leisurely, allowing the world and its burdens to fade into the background.

Lachlan broke their comfortable silence. “Imagine a time when this land knows naught but peace, where our children may roam freely, unburdened by the clang of swords and the cries of war.”

Ailis’s heart swelled at the vision he painted, her own wishes mingling with his. She leaned into him, feeling the solid warmth of his arm as it wrapped around her. “Aye, that is a dream worth fighting for,” she murmured, her breath forming a cloud in the chill air.