Page 7

T he sun had barely risen when an urgent message reached the McAfee keep. Ailis, breathing in crisp morning air from her open window, noticed a winded young boy speaking earnestly with her father. As she watched their exchange, she could tell by the boy’s gestures that someone needed her help.

Ailis donned her cloak and hurried through the stone corridors, her footsteps echoing against the walls. Her heart pounded in time with her strides. There was no time for delay. Over one arm was the bag filled with her herbs and other medicinal tools.

She followed the boy to a small hamlet where concerned villagers circled a man whose leg suffered from a misfortunate fall.

As Ailis approached, the onlookers fell silent.

She knelt beside the injured man, her hands steady and sure.

The steadfast resolve within her eyes mirrored the surrounding landscape.

“Ye be brave,” she whispered to the villager as she cleansed and bound his wound.

She had dealt with many wounds such as his, and she had no doubt she’d deal with many more.

Her mother had been a healer before her death, and her grandmother who had died the previous year had taught Ailis all she knew of healing.

With each motion of cloth and knot of a bandage, Ailis could sense the man calming down.

She found that healing people this way did her more good than it did them. She loved to help others, and she was certain that it came through when she engaged in the healing arts. This act surpassed obligation. It was good to be there for others and engage in simple acts of kindness.

As she finished tending to the injury, and the villager’s relief grew apparent, Ailis allowed herself a small smile—her duty fulfilled.

Yet personal yearning still smoldered quietly within her, ever contrasting her responsibilities.

She still had to speak with Lachlan and Ian about her decision from the previous day.

Ailis finished the knot and glanced up, spotting a figure at the clearing’s edge. Draped in McAfee tartan, the man stood haloed by the setting sun. Though familiar in attire, he remained a stranger to her.

Drawn by his quiet strength and stillness, Ailis approached him carefully. Her heart pounded with a cautious rhythm.

“Good sir,” she began, concealing her curiosity. “I am Ailis McAfee. May I ask yer purpose here? New faces are rare in these parts, and ye’re even wearing our family’s colors.”

As he turned to face her, Ailis sensed the weight of his gaze—a heavy scrutiny that seemed to assess more than her words. The air filled with anticipation, awaiting his response.

The man’s smile spread across his face. “A pleasure to meet ye, Ailis,” he replied, his voice smooth as aged leather. “I am Cameron, returned from distant lands to visit me grandparents who dwell here.”

Ailis stepped closer, curiosity stirring within her. “Yer journey must have been arduous. The Highlands can be unkind to those unfamiliar with our ways.”

“Aye they can,” Cameron conceded, a light dancing in his eyes. “But no road is too treacherous when it leads to family. And witnessing yer care for our kin has been heartening.”

Ailis flushed. “I only take care of me father’s people,” she murmured. “The bonds of a clan are not easily broken.”

Cameron closed the distance between them, the fading light framing his face. “Yer dedication speaks of a kind and courageous heart, Ailis—a rare and admirable thing.”

She bore the weight of his gaze, full of earnestness and recognition of quiet strength. “Yer words honor me,” Ailis replied steadily. “Though it is me duty to provide aid where I can. I’m now the only healer in the clan, and I go where I’m needed.”

“Perhaps,” Cameron agreed, his smile lingering like the last rays of sunlight on the horizon. “But ye do so with a grace that transcends obligation.”

In that moment, duty and curiosity intertwined within Ailis as she stood before this man who saw her worth beyond merely being a healer.

Cameron briefly stepped away, leaving Ailis in the quiet hamlet. He returned with a handful of wildflowers. Their colors were vivid.

“For ye.” He offered the bouquet. “A token for yer kindness and beauty.”

Ailis accepted the flowers, her fingers brushing his. Their fragrance intermingled with the earthy air around them as she held them close.

“Thank ye, Cameron,” she replied sincerely. “I’ll treasure these blooms and their meaning.”

As they strolled through the village, twilight enveloped them. Cameron shared stories of his grandparents and clan life, revealing both respect for tradition and aspirations beyond their homeland.

“And what of yer dreams, Ailis?” he asked. “Does yer heart desire more than these hills?”

She hesitated before answering. “There is much to cherish here.” She glanced at the distant mountains. “But I’m curious about what lies beyond. However, me duty is to me clan—and I will always fulfill those duties. I think I’d miss the Highlands if I ever went elsewhere.”

Cameron nodded. “Our obligations shape us, but shouldn’t we heed our desires? Aren’t we a blend of duties and dreams?”

The poignant question lingered as Ailis was torn between loyalty and personal fulfillment. In Cameron’s presence, she found a kindred spirit who understood this delicate balance.

Ailis walked beside Cameron through the hamlet as she lightly brushed the wildflower petals he had given her. The breeze carried the scent of peat fires and fresh earth. He spoke often of his grandparents and their stories.

“The heather is especially vibrant this season,” Cameron remarked, pointing toward the purple fields beyond the settlement. “It reminds me of our people.”

“Heather is me favorite flower,” Ailis replied, gazing at the serene landscape.

Lachlan’s allure often sparkled like sunlight on water—exciting and enchanting.

Yet here, with Cameron, she found a different kind of allure—one that flowed steady and sure, like an underground stream nurturing the land above in silence.

As they passed by the dwellings, children peeked out from behind wooden doors, their eyes filled with curiosity.

Ailis smiled and waved at them, each smile mirrored in Cameron’s eyes.

His attentiveness caused a flutter within her chest—a sensation both foreign and exhilarating.

Why, if Lachlan had devoted this much attention to her, she was certain they’d be wed by now.

“Yer heart is open, Ailis,” Cameron murmured, as if he could sense her inner turmoil. “It is a rare gift to hold such compassion for others.”

“Is it not a burden?” Ailis pondered aloud. “To care so deeply when the world often demands a sterner hand?”

“Perhaps,” he conceded. “But I believe it is also what makes us human—the ability to feel, to heal, to love.”

Ailis’s pulse quickened. She thought of Lachlan then—his laughter that ignited the air and his touch that promised adventure and passion. But in Cameron’s earnestness and tranquility, she discovered a different kind of promise—one of steadfastness and solace.

“Love is a curious thing,” Ailis remarked. Her heart wavered like a candle flame caught between two competing breezes. The excitement of Lachlan’s charm battled with the serene pull of Cameron’s character, and beneath the crescent moon, Ailis bore the weight of her indecision.

“Yer company, me lady, has been the highlight of me visit,” Cameron said.

Ailis glanced up at him, her eyes reflecting conflicting emotions. The allure of Lachlan or the calming presence of Cameron. Her path forward remained unclear.

“Thank ye,” she replied steadily despite her turmoil. “Yer words bring solace.”

“Ye have a way with the afflicted,” Cameron murmured. “It’s as if yer touch alone can mend more than just flesh.”

Ailis turned to face him, her green eyes seeking the truth. “To heal is to hold another’s life in yer hands and pour into it hope.”

Cameron hesitated before tucking a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. “Ye do more than just pour hope, Ailis,” he confessed earnestly. “Ye inspire it.”

In the quiet, their gazes locked, and they leaned closer, lips meeting in a tender kiss bridging the distance between two souls.

As they parted, Ailis gasped. “None must ken of this,” she whispered. “For the sake of peace within our clan, and for me own heart’s sake, we must guard this secret.” She couldn’t believe she’d allowed herself to be kissed by a man she’d met merely hours ago. Her father would be aghast.

Cameron nodded. “It will be as though the wind itself carries away our whispers. I shall not tell a soul.”

“Will ye be staying in the Highlands for a while now?” she asked, wanting to see him again.

“Aye. I wasn’t planning to stay, but now that I’ve met ye…”

A tear rolled down Ailis’s cheek and she stepped away from Cameron, fortitude hiding her inner turmoil. “Goodnight, Cameron,” she whispered.

“Goodnight, Ailis,” he replied, his voice carrying a promise of a future filled with both peril and possibility.

With those final words, Ailis turned and walked away, clutching the wildflower bouquet which had wilted a great deal during their time together.

As dusk’s soft glow illuminated the Highland landscape, Ailis approached the McAfee keep, clutching the bouquet of wildflowers. Each petal silently witnessed her tender moments with Cameron.

The ancient stones loomed before her, their presence reminding her of the weight of tradition and duty she bore.

She paused at the heavy oak door before pushing it open.

Inside, generations of McAfees had faced challenges of clanship and loyalty.

Ailis sensed the magnitude of her predicament.

Her family’s expectations enveloped her like the tartan shawl around her delicate frame.

Walking toward her chamber, Ailis’s thoughts churned like the rapids of a nearby river. Her encounter with Cameron contrasted sharply with the cool touch of obligation. She knew her role—a unifier within her clan—but couldn’t deny the passion and connection she found with Cameron.

Her chamber provided no solace as sunlight streamed through the narrow window. Ailis stood in silence, green eyes reflecting an inner conflict. Lachlan’s jests and charm once elicited flutters in her chest, but now they puzzled her amid her newfound feelings for Cameron.

Was she being a silly girl? Falling for the first man who paid her any attention? She wasn’t certain. What she was certain of was that she wanted to find out. She wanted more time with Cameron as well as with Lachlan. Her heart would eventually choose one of them, wouldn’t it?

Ailis gazed out the window, seeking clarity but finding none. Caught between desires and expectations, she whispered to the breeze, “Where does me duty end, and where does me heart begin?”

*

Cameron strode through Sinclair village. He reached his assigned dwelling, shedding the guise of the McAfee clan and draping himself in the Sinclair plaid.

He made his way to the keep, entering through heavy oak doors into the warm embrace of peat fires. Laird Sinclair observed his arrival with a resonant voice that captured attention.

“I have returned,” Cameron announced. His eyes held a spark of something profound, a tale waiting to be told.

“Speak then,” urged the laird as his sons gathered to listen.

“Today, I spoke with Ailis McAfee,” Cameron informed him, carefully choosing his words. “I offered her flowers as symbols of our budding kinship, and she received them kindly.”

Anticipation filled the room until the laird prompted him onward. Cameron inhaled deeply before admitting, “We shared a kiss—a promise of possibility between us.”

The men understood this act was not just affection. It mingled personal longing and political alliance. As he concluded recounting his encounter with Ailis, Cameron stood tall, aware that every step held consequences far beyond his heart’s desire.

“I see,” Arran replied, the slow curl of his lips betraying his satisfaction at the news of his man’s endeavor.

“The McAfee lasses hold our sons in suspicion, thinking them knaves because of the ill-fated abduction of their sister.” His voice echoed with authority, tempered by the knowledge of the delicate task at hand.

“Ye must be vigilant, Cameron. Continue to court Ailis with honor.”

Within the chamber, tension coiled like a serpent ready to strike as Ian bore witness to the unfolding scene.

His countenance, once the very visage of charm, now darkened like the storm clouds that often brooded over the highland peaks.

His glare toward his father and brother was sharp as a dirk’s edge, a silent testament to the tempest brewing within him.

It was clear that Ian was unhappy that the other man had succeeded where he had failed.

Cameron’s gaze lingered upon Ian, noting the rigid set of his jaw and the barely restrained energy of his stance.

He surmised that beneath the polished veneer of nobility lurked a man who would not easily yield his ambitions.

The truth of it settled heavily upon him.

It was a reminder that, in the dance of alliance and power, even the most carefully laid plans could unravel at the hands of a single, determined player.

He was honored to have been chosen for such a task. Though it meant upsetting the laird’s son, he would continue to do his very best. He would please the laird, and that was all that really mattered.