Page 5

A ilis sat on a stone bench in the walled garden, taking in the scent of heather and thyme. Moira and Fiona joined her, their presence comforting.

“I do not like Ian Sinclair,” Ailis whispered. “The very sight of him unsettles me. Yet, I fear that if I dinnae give him a chance to court me, then I will let Father down.”

“Never mind him,” Moira replied. “Lachlan McClain is the one who captures yer heart.”

“But he doesn’t court me,” Ailis argued. “He sends his guards to follow me yet remains distant. If he truly had feelings for me, he would have approached Father about courting me.” She shook her head. “He needs to show how he feels or I will find another.”

Fiona leaned forward. “Perhaps he has his reasons,” she suggested. “A woman can never ken what is happening in a man’s mind. Their thoughts are foreign to us.”

Eventually, they parted ways.

In the grand hall, Fiona’s soiree commenced. The torchlight cast dancing shadows as musicians played inviting melodies. Throughout the night, Ailis stole glances at Lachlan McClain. Each time their eyes met, a jolt surged through her.

Despite her outward grace, Ailis’s heart wrestled with her inner turmoil. She observed Lachlan joining the dance. She knew she could easily join him, but she wanted him to invite her. Why hadn’t he spoken to her father?

While goblets clinked and people whispered, their unspoken connection intensified. Yet duty overshadowed desire—a reminder of their sacrifices and political alliances that shaped their lives. The tension between longing and obligation added complexity to an already intricate dance.

Ailis adjusted the grand table’s centerpieces with meticulous care. She sought perfection for Fiona’s sake, but she was preoccupied by a more troubling presence.

“Ye seem to be waging a silent battle with those flowers, Ailis,” Lachlan McClain remarked, his approach stealthy. She didn’t need to glance at him to recognize his disarming smile.

“These blooms are proving quite unruly.” Ailis finally met his gaze with a playful spark in her green eyes. “Perhaps they require a firmer hand.”

Lachlan offered assistance, stepping closer with a mock frown. “Do ye want me to have a talk with them?”

“Only if ye swear not to charm them into further rebellion,” Ailis countered, the corner of her mouth lifting slightly. She knew the power of his charm, and she was certain the man could charm the portraits of her ancestors from the walls.

Their laughter mingled, providing a fleeting escape from the evening’s expectations. For a moment, shared mirth secluded them from the world’s prying eyes.

*

Meanwhile, Fiona surveyed the scene from across the great hall. Her face softened with sisterly concern. She observed as Ailis’s smile waned when Lachlan’s attention diverted and how she subtly guarded her heart.

If only love were as simple as wielding a sword or commanding a battalion , Fiona thought. Then she could guide her sister to safe haven.

It would be good if they had a mother to seek counsel from regarding matters of the heart. Alas, they had one grandmother, and she was Fiona’s alone. Ailis had lost her own grandmother just the previous year.

Perhaps she could offer to share her grandmother with Ailis. She laughed at the idea. Ailis knew her grandmother as well as she herself did.

*

Ailis sought refuge in a quiet corner. Lachlan appeared beside her.

“Escaping the revelry?” His tone was light, but his eyes held unspoken words.

“Seeking peace,” she replied.

“Peace can be elusive.” He leaned against the wall. “I find it hides in plain sight.”

“I find it is hiding from me tonight.”

“It’s like a lullaby that quiets the world,” he whispered.

“Then why must it hide from me?” she asked. “I could use the quiet!”

“But sometimes words are needed, as silence can be too wide for words to fill.”

Ailis hesitated before asking, “What does yer heart seek?”

“Every day and night, loyalty to me clan wars with other inclinations,” he admitted.

She nodded. “Such inclinations often lead to ruin.”

He stiffened. “Do ye think I am just another rogue?”

“I truly do not know what to think when it comes to ye,” she answered, her voice barely audible above the music.

“Good thoughts would be nice.” He smiled at her.

She shook her head. “I suppose most of me thoughts of ye are good ones. Not all though.”

“Ye wound me! It’s as if ye dinnae trust me, and here I am, brother ta yer sister!”

“But not me brother.” She smiled.

“I would hope not.”

*

Ailis entered her father’s war room, seeking refuge from the noisy gathering. She found Moira, her fiery hair a vibrant contrast to the subdued tapestry on the wall.

“Moira,” Ailis began, her voice trembling. “I’m lost in confusion.”

“Speak, sister,” Moira urged, eyes full of understanding.

“It’s Lachlan,” Ailis confessed. “He unsettles me. There’s a pull, like the moon upon the tides, but me heart resists it.”

“The battle between duty and desire.” Moira leaned forward. “Does he make yer spirit soar while vexing ye?”

“He does,” Ailis admitted softly. “I do not know what his intentions are, and I find meself drawn to him anyway. I wish he would speak to Father and ask to court me.”

“If ye want him to court ye, shouldn’t ye just ask him?” Moira asked.

“I could not! Men are meant to approach women, not the other way around. How could ye even suggest such a thing?”

Moira shrugged. “I dinna think I will ever marry. I like being me own person and not expected to obey rules given by a man.”

“Ye ken Father expects us both to make good marriages?” Ailis asked, wondering what was wrong with her sister. Women were meant to marry and bear children.

“Responsibilities shape us but dinnae define us wholly,” Moira advised. “Sometimes we must leap into the unknown, trusting the winds to guide us.”

“I suppose that’s true.” Ailis still couldn’t decide if she should avoid Lachlan or seek him out.

On one hand, she wanted to be with him desperately, but on the other, she worried spending even more time with him would make her fall more in love, and that would simply make life harder if he didn’t have the same feelings.

It seemed he did, but nothing was ever quite as it seemed.

After returning, Ailis moved among the revelers in the great hall when Lachlan appeared before her, offering his hand. Wordlessly, she accepted. Then they stepped onto the dance floor.

A traditional Highland dance began. Lachlan led confidently and Ailis followed gracefully.

Each touch was electric—fingers grazing, hands clasping, arms entwining. Their eyes met often, glances charged with unspoken emotion. The dance demanded they part and reunite, mirroring Ailis’s inner turmoil.

As they spun, Lachlan’s grip tightened slightly. It was a silent promise in the clamor. His warmth ignited an inextinguishable fire within Ailis.

For those moments, nothing else mattered. The world narrowed to their shared breaths and the music that fueled them.

The dance ended, leaving them breathless and flushed, unspoken desires reverberating between them. They bowed to each other, the formality doing nothing to ease the simmering heat beneath their skin.

“Thank ye, Ailis.” Lachlan’s voice was smooth as a serene loch.

“Lachlan,” she replied. “I enjoyed the dance.”

“I enjoy everything with ye,” he crooned before wandering off.

Ailis watched after him, wishing she knew how to get him to speak with her father about courting her. He may be content to take things slowly, but she was ready for something to happen between them.

*

“I trust yer having a pleasant evening?” Ailis asked mischievously as she glanced up at Ian.

Ian’s eyes darkened slightly at the mention of the previous day’s events. “Very pleasant, though I must admit the memory of me refusal to carry that deer still haunts me.”

As it should. Ailis’s chuckle tinkled like wind chimes in a gentle breeze.

Ian’s gaze upon her softened. A glimmer of admiration shone in his eyes. “I truly do not know what to think when it comes to ye.”

She smiled, her green eyes sparkling with amusement. “Ye dinna have to think of me at all,” she teased.

Ian shook his head, a playful glint in his eyes. “I suppose most of me thoughts of ye are clouded by the desire to dance with ye,” he admitted, extending his hand toward her.

Ailis hesitated for a brief moment, her eyes flickering toward Lachlan, who watched them with a tight jaw and furrowed brows.

His gaze was intense, a mix of concern and something deeper that made her heart flutter uncomfortably.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she turned back to Ian and placed her hand in his.

“As much as I appreciate the offer, Ian, I fear I must decline,” she answered politely, trying to ignore the pang of guilt that tugged at her. Would Father be upset if he found out she refused to dance with him?

Ian’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second before he masked it with practiced charm. “Ah, lass, ye wound me so. Are ye sure ye cannot spare one dance for an old friend?”

Ailis suppressed a sigh. The term “friend” was a veiled threat coming from Ian.

She knew all too well his intentions, and she had no desire to give him any kind of hope.

“Forgive me, Ian, but I’m afraid I twisted me ankle during me last dance.

It’ll need time to heal before I can dance with ye,” she lied.

Ian’s facade cracked slightly, revealing a flash of disappointment in his eyes before his charming grin returned. “Ah, well, I shall have to content meself with watching ye from afar then.” He bowed slightly before stepping back.

As Ian departed, relief washed over Ailis. She turned her attention back to Lachlan, who was now conversing with some of the other guests. His eyes found hers, holding an intensity that made her heart race.

Ailis knew she was playing a dangerous game, caught between duty and desire. Her feelings for Lachlan were undeniable, a whirlwind of emotions that she struggled to contain.

With a heavy sigh, she excused herself from the hall, needing a moment of solitude.

Walking to the moonlit courtyard, Ailis found refuge from the lively great hall. Leaning against ancient battlements, she gazed at the stars as if seeking their counsel.

“Ye find yerself at a crossroads, lass.” Laird Duncan McAfee’s voice echoed with authority and tenderness. He approached his daughter carefully.

“Father,” she began solemnly, “I feel as though I’m wandering in fog, uncertain of which path to take.”

Duncan joined her at the ramparts.

“Does duty not dictate the way?” Ailis asked.

“It often lights the path. But even stars need darkness to shine,” he replied.

She hesitated but mentioned Lachlan’s name tremblingly.

“A man of honor who’d be a fine mate for another lass,” Duncan acknowledged.

“Why not for me?” she asked softly.

“Ye are meant to be the lady of a clan. I’ll make a good alliance for ye, and ye’ll be happy.”

Back in the great hall, Ailis moved through the crowd, focused on finding one person. Finally, she spotted Lachlan, his laughter distinguishable even in the lively atmosphere.

“Excuse me,” she whispered as she approached him, determination fueling her courage. “May we speak?”

His stormy blue eyes met hers with attentive curiosity. “Of course, Ailis.” They sought out a secluded alcove, leaving the noise behind them.

“Lachlan, I’m torn between duty and the heart,” Ailis began gravely. “Ye have captured me thoughts, and I can no longer pretend otherwise.”

His eyes softened as he smiled. “Ailis, yer words honor me. We cannot ignore the subtle bond that has been forming between us.” He paused for a moment. “Yet, I too am bound by loyalties that aren’t easily cast aside for personal desires.”

“Then let us not speak of setting aside,” Ailis implored, holding his hands firmly. “Instead, let’s explore how we might unite our paths and intertwine duty with matters of the heart.”

“Yer courage emboldens me,” Lachlan admitted, his thumb gently caressing her hand. “If there is a way to honor both our hearts and responsibilities, we shall find it.”

Ailis’s heart danced as she gazed into Lachlan’s eyes, their hands entwined. His touch brought comfort despite her turmoil.

“Ye have awakened something in me, Lachlan McClain,” Ailis whispered. “Something I feared to let see the light of day.”

“And ye, Ailis, have ensnared me heart with yer grace and courage.” He lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss so soft it might have been mistaken for a caress of the Highland breeze itself.

Their moment lingered until reality intruded. The sudden clamor of footsteps approaching pulled them back as Fiona appeared around the corner, breathless and urgent.

“Ailis! Father has been asking for ye.”

The words hung heavily in the air. Ailis froze with trepidation, knowing full well the importance of such summons on this night of celebration.

“Go to him,” Lachlan urged gently, releasing her hand but holding her gaze.

With a nod, Ailis turned to follow Fiona, casting one last glance at Lachlan before disappearing from view.

As she moved through the crowded hall, anticipation mixed with dread filled her thoughts. She longed to weave her future with Lachlan’s, but she knew they faced unimaginable obstacles.

“Remember who ye are,” her father’s words echoed within her—a reminder that love could not easily bend traditions and allegiances.

When Ailis reached her father, he smiled. “I think ye should spend a little less time with Lachlan. I think ye need to focus yer attention on men who will one day be laird of a clan. Lachlan never will.”

“But I want to spend more time with him. Not less,” Ailis argued.

“That is because ye have spent too much time with him,” Duncan told her. “Ye must spend time with others, and ye will see he is just a man like any other.”

Ailis nodded obediently, but her heart screamed at her to ignore her father’s wishes. “Aye, Father.”