Page 44 of The Laird’s Dangerous Prize (The Highland Sisters’ Secret Desires #1)
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
T his time, when they made love it was slower, but no less intense. Her hunger hadn’t faded. If anything, it had grown deeper, more urgent in its purpose. She wanted to see him undone again. She wanted to own every moment they had left.
They stayed wrapped around each other long after the pleasure had ebbed, her head tucked beneath his chin, his arms holding her like she was the only thing anchoring him to the world.
They dozed fitfully in each other's arms as the night wore on, waking to touch and kiss and whisper soft words of love and hope. When the first pale light of dawn began to creep through the window, neither wanted to acknowledge what it meant.
When the dawn finally came, painting gold along the edge of the window, she lay against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. Morning was coming and so was battle. But for now, they had each other. Skin to skin. Heart to heart.
The sound that finally broke through their protective cocoon was the deep, resonant call of a war horn echoing across the valley—not from their walls, but from the forest beyond.
Wallace had arrived.
Isolde felt Ciaran's entire body tense against hers, the warrior in him responding instantly to the threat. But for just a moment longer, he held her close, his face buried in her hair.
"Whatever happens today," he murmured, "remember this. Remember us."
"Always," she promised, then Isolde paused, eyes glistering. "Come back tae me, ye brave laird." The words were nothing more than a mere whisper.
The second war horn's call seemed to shake the very stones of the castle, and within moments the peaceful dawn was shattered by the sound of running feet and shouted orders.
"I swear I'll keep ye alive even if that’s all I can dae today," Ciaran growled fiercely.
"Ye can dae much more, me laird. Now go save a clan."
Ciaran nodded, already moving, pulling on his clothes with the swift efficiency of a man accustomed to waking to battle.
"Stay in the keep," he shouted to Isolde as he buckled on his sword belt, his voice transformed from lover to commander in the space of a heartbeat. "Promise me."
She wanted to argue, to insist she could fight alongside him, but the look in his eyes stopped her. This wasn't about her capabilities—it was about his ability to focus on the battle ahead without worrying about her safety.
"I promise," she said, though the words tasted like ash.
He kissed her once more, fierce and quick, then was gone, leaving her alone with the scent of him on her skin and the sound of organized chaos beyond the walls
From her window, she could see men racing to their positions on the battlements. The courtyard filled with purposeful movement as the final preparations were made—oil heated to boiling, arrows distributed, weapons checked one last time.
Ciaran appeared in the courtyard below, and even from a distance she could see how his presence steadied the men around him. He moved from group to group, checking positions, offering encouragement, transforming a collection of frightened individuals into something resembling an army.
"MacAlpin! MacCraith!" His voice carried clearly in the crisp morning air. "Today we stand together not as separate clans, but as one people defending our homes, our families, our way of life!"
The men straightened as he spoke, hands tightening on weapons, jaws setting with determination.
"Wallace thinks his numbers make him invincible," Ciaran continued, climbing onto a wooden crate so all could see him. "But he doesn't understand what he faces. He doesn't know that every man here fights not just for his own life, but for the lives of those he loves most in this world!"
A cheer went up from the assembled defenders, and Isolde felt her heart swell with pride. Whatever else happened, her man would lead them with honor.
"They may take our walls," Ciaran shouted over the growing noise, "but they'll pay in blood fer every stone!
They may breach our gates, but they'll find warriors waiting who willnae yield an inch without a fight!
And if we fall—if we all fall together—then let it be said that we made Wallace's victory so costly he'll think twice before threatening another Highland clan! "
The cheers were deafening now, and Isolde could see the transformation in the men's faces. Fear was still there, but it was tempered now by purpose, by the knowledge that their cause was just and their leader worthy of following to the very gates of hell.
There were so many of them. Row upon row of armored men, cavalry units flanking foot soldiers, banners streaming in the morning breeze.
The sight of them made her stomach clench with terror, but also with a fierce, protective rage.
These men had driven her people from their homes, had taken young Rhona prisoner, had come to destroy everything she held dear.
The first flight of arrows darkened the sky like a cloud of locusts, and the siege of MacAlpin castle began.