Page 10 of To Wed a Witch (Reluctant Brides #3)

T he morning mist still clung to the hills when the Ferguson party prepared to depart MacKay Keep.

What had begun as a simple escort of armed men had transformed into something resembling a small caravan, complete with a sturdy cart loaded down with trunks, bundles, and carefully wrapped jars of preserves from Sìne's cottage.

Sìne stood in the courtyard holding Aidyn, who was bundled against the cool morning air.

The memory of waking in Bhaltair's arms lingered in her chest. She'd stirred before dawn to find herself pressed against his solid warmth, his arm wrapped protectively around her.

For a few precious moments, she'd allowed herself to pretend they had truly married for love rather than convenience.

Now, watching him direct his men with authority, she found her gaze lingering on the breadth of his shoulders, the way his hair still showed traces of dampness from his early morning wash.

When he caught her looking, something flickered in his dark eyes that made her cheeks warm before she looked away.

Bhaltair stood beside his destrier, watching his men secure the last of the baggage with a mixture of amusement and exasperation.

When he'd ridden north seeking a bride, he'd expected to return with little more than a shrew and her dowry chest. He had not anticipated the mountain of household goods that apparently constituted a healer's necessary supplies, nor had he expected to find himself so thoroughly bewitched by his new wife.

The memory of holding Sìne through the night made his jaw clench with an effort to maintain control.

She'd felt so right in his arms, soft and warm and trusting.

When she'd stirred at dawn and looked up at him with those remarkable eyes, still heavy with sleep, he'd nearly forgotten all his resolutions about taking things slowly.

"Is that truly necessary?" Dugald asked as Bhaltair wrestled another heavy sack into the cart.

"Dried herbs for winter," Sìne replied. "And healing supplies. The clan may have need of them."

Bhaltair's expression softened as it always did when she showed such consideration for his people. "Aye, of course. Forgive Dugald. He should be grateful that ye'd think of their welfare."

The gentle approval in his tone made Sìne's pulse quicken. He seemed more attentive, his gaze lingering on her in ways that made her remember the solid warmth of his body against hers.

Dugald watched the exchange and just rolled his eyes before muttering under his breath about womenfolk trying to pack everything under the sun. Paisley gave Dugald a withering glare, and he frowned back at her.

The cart itself had been Paisley's suggestion, but Bhaltair had agreed and fitted it with a canvas cover to shield against wind and rain. The men had also added a soft feathers-stuffed mattress inside for added comfort.

"Ready, my lady?" Murphy called out, unable to hide his grin at using Sìne's new title.

"Aye," she replied, settling Aidyn against her shoulder. The child was alert and content, her dark eyes taking in all the activity with curiosity rather than fright.

Bhaltair mounted his horse and moved to ride beside the cart, close enough to converse but positioned to scan the road ahead. Behind them, an escort of eight MacKay guardsmen formed the rear guard, their orders to accompany the party halfway to Ferguson lands.

"'Tis a fine day for traveling," Laird MacKay observed as he approached to bid his daughter farewell.

"Aye," Bhaltair replied. "We should make good time."

MacKay's eyes lingered on his daughter and granddaughter. "Take care of them, Ferguson. They're all I have left in this world."

"With my life," Bhaltair replied solemnly, and meant it.

The farewells were brief but heartfelt. Then the small caravan was moving, horses' hooves clattering on cobblestones as they passed through the Keep's gates and onto the winding track that led to the main road.

***

B Y MIDDAY, BHALTAIR had to admit he was impressed by how smoothly the journey was progressing, though he found himself increasingly distracted by his wife's presence.

He'd expected chaos with women and a babe, but instead found himself stealing glances at Sìne as she tended Aidyn or pointed out features of the landscape.

She seemed different today as well, more aware of him, he thought. When he rode close to the cart to check on their comfort, she would look up with a soft smile that made his chest tighten.

Paisley, sharp-eyed as always, had quickly established herself as the group's quartermaster.

She knew exactly where every supply was stored, anticipated needs before they arose, and had somehow managed to organize the men's meals without ever seeming to give orders.

The men were only too willing to give up cooking duties to one better skilled at it.

Sìne herself continued to prove adaptable beyond Bhaltair's expectations.

She endured the jolting cart without complaint, entertained Aidyn, and also helped Paisley with her duties to ensure her maid also had time to rest. Bhaltair realized he had an asset in his wife who was not afraid of hard work or getting her hands dirty when help was needed.

Yes, she would certainly make a fine mistress for his clan.

"That hillside there," she pointed to a slope covered in purple heather, "would be excellent for grazing sheep. The soil looks rich, and there's good drainage."

Bhaltair followed her gaze, noting the way she leaned forward, the graceful curve of her neck, and he had to force himself to focus on her words rather than the urge to press his lips to that tempting spot.

"Ye have an eye for land," he said.

"I had to learn. My cottage sits on what used to be barren ground. It took years to make it productive." She bounced Aidyn gently as the child began to fuss. "Will yer land need much work?"

"Some," he replied carefully, then found himself being more honest than intended. "The truth is, the past few years have been challenging. There's much to rebuild."

The admission surprised him. He hadn't meant to reveal the full extent of Ferguson Keep's hardship, but something about Sìne invited sharing.

"I have no doubt we can manage it together," she replied, and the quiet confidence in her voice made his heart skip.

Together. The word resonated deeply. For so long he felt like he carried the weight of the clan on his shoulders alone. To have someone beside him, to confide with, gave him hope.

"Laird, there's a good spot ahead for the midday rest. Stream for water, shade for the cart," Murphy said, interrupting their time together.

"Excellent." Bhaltair glanced back at their MacKay escort, noting how they maintained proper formation while remaining alert to their surroundings. Good men, well-trained. He would miss their presence when they turned back at the border.

As they crested a low hill, Bhaltair's eyes automatically swept the landscape behind them, a habit born of years of border warfare. For just a moment, he thought he caught sight of a lone rider following their track, but when he looked again, there was nothing but empty fields.

***

T HE MIDDAY REST brEAK proved how well the group had already learned to work together. The men saw to the horses while Paisley and Sìne efficiently prepared a light repast for the group.

Bhaltair noticed how naturally his men had accepted the women's presence. Dugald was already chatting with Paisley about the best route through the hills, while young Murphy had appointed himself Aidyn's entertainment, making silly faces that earned delighted giggles from the child.

"Aidyn has taken to yer men," Sìne observed, once she had handed out the food to the men. She gave him his share and settled beside him on a large flat stone.

"They've taken to her as well. And to ye both." He accepted the cup of ale Paisley offered him with a nod of thanks. "I feared the journey might be more... difficult."

Sìne laughed, a warm sound that made something loosen in his chest. "Did ye expect us to swoon at the first mile marker? I may have lived quietly, but I'm not fragile. It would take a lot to break my spirit."

"Aye," he agreed, studying her profile as she watched Murphy play with Aidyn. "Ye're stronger than I expected."

"I had to be."

Before Bhaltair could respond, one of the MacKay guards approached. "Laird Ferguson, might I have a word?"

They stepped aside, out of hearing of the women. The guardsman, a veteran named Harris, kept his voice low. "There's been a rider following us since morning. Keeping his distance, but he's there."

Bhaltair's expression didn't change, but his hand moved instinctively toward his sword. "How many?"

"Just the one, as far as I can tell. Could be nothing. Perhaps a merchant, maybe, or just someone traveling the same road. But..." Harris shrugged eloquently.

"But it pays to be cautious. Especially now.

" Bhaltair's gaze moved to where Sìne sat with their daughter in her arms, eating oat cakes.

The dowry chests in the cart contained enough gold to rebuild his Keep three times over, and everyone in the Highlands knew about the marriage by now.

A tempting target for bandits, or worse.

"I'll have the lads keep a closer watch, and rather than turn back at the border, we will provide escort for another day, till I'm certain ye are in no further need of assistance," Harris promised.

"And perhaps we should push on a bit farther today, put more distance between us and whoever's back there. "

"I will gratefully accept yer offer, and we'll be ready to keep moving within the hour."

***