Page 30 of The Highlander’s Iron Hold (Kilted Kisses #4)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

" H ere, let me take that beam from ye," Colin said, hefting the heavy timber onto his shoulder with ease.

"Ye've done enough fer one morning." The evacuation had gone smoothly, but Colin had insisted on staying to help with the repairs as promised.

Now, hours later, the village bustled with renewed energy as homes were restored and families settled back into familiar rhythms.

Morag watched from across the village square as her husband moved from task to task, never hesitating to take on the heaviest work. His shirt was already damp with sweat despite the cool morning air, clinging to the muscles of his back as he helped raise a new roof beam for the miller's cottage.

She found herself mesmerized by the way he moved. Fluid and powerful, directing the other men with quiet authority while doing twice the work of anyone else. When he paused to wipe his brow with the back of his hand, she felt her mouth go dry at the sight of him.

"Look at that," she heard a young lad say to his friend as they watched Colin single-handedly lift a beam that had required three men to carry. "Me Da says the laird's stronger than an ox, but I never believed it till now."

"Aye?" the other boy replied with obvious admiration.

Around the village, Morag could see the way people interacted with Colin. Men approached him with suggestions rather than waiting for orders. Women offered him water and food without being asked. Children were not shy around him.

"Lady Morag?" Old Agnes touched her arm gently.

"Should we start sorting through these blankets?” As they started to work she added “ It daes me old heart good tae see our laird working alongside us common folk.

I mean, he did it in the past as well, dinnae mistaken me.

But now there's a new energy, an eagerness that wasn't there.

Me thinks ye are daeing our laird good in his heart. "

"Aye, indeed," Morag allowed herself a moment to bask in the warmth of the old woman’s words, before she forced herself to focus on the task at hand rather than the way Colin's arms flexed as he lifted another beam.

The morning passed in a blur of activity. Colin seemed to be everywhere at once—helping to clear debris, carrying supplies, even climbing onto rooftops to secure loose thatch.

But more than his physical help, it was his manner that stood out. Morag saw the way he was attentive when the villagers spoke, how he asked for their opinions on repairs, and treated their concerns with genuine respect.

Around midmorning, Morag was arranging some wood near where Colin and some men were working. An old man among them made a joke about Fraser men and to everyone's surprise, Colin joined them to laugh out loud. The sound was so rare that even Morag paused at what she was doing to look over.

"Never thought I'd see the Iron Laird laugh at one of me jokes," chuckled the grizzled man as he held up the door frame for Colin to repair. "Ye're nae quite the stern man ye gave us all the impression, are ye, me laird?"

"Perhaps nae," Colin replied with a rare smile that made Morag’s heart lurch. She watched him help the old man steady the frame with one hand while hammering with the other. "Though I reserve the right tae be stern when the situation calls fer it."

"Aye, well, there's a time fer everythin’, me laird," he agreed. "But a clan needs a laird that cares about more than just keeping order. And perhaps a lady who will love the clan as much as he."

The man's words caused something to settle in Morag's stomach as her gaze met and held Colin's.

"Perhaps," he whispered, his eyes never leaving hers.

When the sun reached its peak, Morag gathered bread and cheese onto a wooden plate and approached where Colin sat on a fallen log, finally taking a brief rest. His hair was damp with sweat, his shirt open at the throat, and there was a streak of mud across his cheek that somehow made him even more appealing.

"Ye look like ye could use some food," she said, settling beside him with the plate.

"Aye, thanks." Colin accepted the bread gratefully, his fingers brushing hers as he took it. The simple contact sent warmth racing up her arm. "How are the women managing settling in?"

"Better than expected. They're grateful tae be home, even if they need work." Morag watched him eat, noting the way his throat moved as he swallowed. "Ye've impressed them today."

Colin glanced around at the bustling village, where his men worked side by side with the villagers. "They just needed tae ken I care about more than giving orders."

"And yer actions today prove that ye dae." Morag asked softly.

Colin's eyes met hers, and she saw something raw and honest there.

"They're me people, Morag. Every one of them.

Their faithers served me faither, and their grandfaithers before that.

When I see them struggling..." He shook his head.

"I'd rather die than see them come tae harm because I failed them. "

The quiet intensity in his voice made her chest tighten with emotion. "Then they're lucky tae have ye."

"Are they?" Colin asked, doubt creeping into his tone. "Sometimes I wonder if they'd be better off with someone who knows how tae lead without driving them away."

"Ye're learning," Morag said, reaching out to touch his hand. "These past days have proven that."

After lunch, their efforts resumed with renewed energy. Morag found herself working alongside Colin to help a family whose cottage entrance had been blocked by fallen stones from their damaged chimney

"Can ye lift that end?" Colin asked, indicating a particularly large stone.

"Aye," Morag replied, though she suspected he was being overly generous about her strength. Together they heaved the stone aside, Colin bearing most of the weight while making it look effortless.

"There now," Colin said gently to the heavily pregnant woman watching anxiously from nearby. "Ye'll be back in yer own bed taenight."

The gratitude in the woman's eyes was unmistakable, and Morag felt her heart swell with pride for the man beside her.

The day wore on, exhausting but productive. By evening, most of the families were settled back in their homes, with repairs either completed or well underway. The village, which had looked like a battlefield that morning, hummed with life again.

"We'll camp here tonight," Colin announced to his men as the sun began to set.

"I want tae be sure everyone's settled before we return tae the castle.

" The decision had been practical—too many of his people were still tired from the day's work, and traveling in darkness would be dangerous with Fraser's men potentially lurking in the forests.

"Hamish, have the men raise the tents around the village square," Colin commanded, gesturing to the open space. "Make a proper perimeter. MacLeod, ye see about setting up a watch rotation."

Within an hour, a small camp had been established in the village square. Following Colin's orders, his men had erected several sturdy canvas tents around the perimeter, while some chose to accept the villagers' offers of floor space in their newly repaired cottages.

Morag watched with interest as the men worked, noting how they moved with military precision even in this peaceful setting. Canvas was stretched taut, ropes secured with expert knots, and bedrolls arranged with careful spacing.

Morag wasn't surprised when he set up their bedroll near the others rather than claiming any special accommodation.

She was surprised, however, by how much she enjoyed the simple meal shared around the campfire.

Thick stew ladled from iron pots, fresh bread from the village ovens, and the easy banter between Colin and his men created an atmosphere unlike anything she'd experienced at the castle.

As the evening deepened, clouds began gathering overhead, and the first fat raindrops started to fall.

"Remember that storm last winter when we had tae shelter in that old barn?" Hamish was saying, his grizzled face lit by the firelight. "Thought the roof would come down on our heads."

"Aye, and ye snored so loud I thought it was thunder," one of the younger soldiers replied with a grin.

"Better than young Willelm here, who talked in his sleep about some lass back home," another added, earning laughter from the group.

Colin sat relaxed among his men, occasionally adding to the conversation but mostly just listening with what might have been contentment. This easy camaraderie was a side of him Morag had never seen—relaxed, almost boyish, free from the weight of constant command.

As the evening deepened, clouds began gathering overhead, dark and heavy with the promise of rain. The first fat raindrops started to fall just as the men were finishing their stories and preparing to seek shelter.

"Everyone inside!" Colin called out, and the camp quickly dispersed. Men hurried toward their tents, pulling canvas tight and securing ropes. Others jogged toward the cottages where villagers held doors open in welcome. The central fire hissed and steamed as raindrops struck the glowing embers

Colin reached for Morag's hand to help her. "Come," he said, gesturing toward the nearest tent. "We should get under cover before we're soaked through."

But Morag didn't move. Instead, she tilted her face up to the sky as the rain began in earnest, the droplets cool and refreshing against her skin.

"Everyone inside!" Niven called out, and the camp quickly dispersed as people sought shelter in cottages and hastily erected tents.

Colin started toward the nearest cottage, but Morag caught his hand.

"Wait," she said impulsively, tilting her face up to the sky as the rain began in earnest. "Could we stay out here just a bit longer?"