Catherine’s lips trembled. “They tried tae take me—two o’ them. I fought, got away, but—” She coughed, eyes watering. “The house—it was the only place I could hide. Then it caught fire. The beam fell. I thought?—”
Her voice faltered.
Aidan’s jaw tightened. “Ye did well tae run.” His hand brushed soot from her hair, lingering a moment longer than it should have. “Ye’re safe now.”
The wordsafebroke something inside her. She pressed a shaking hand to her mouth, trying to steady herself, but tears slipped through her fingers.
He reached out, his thumb brushing away a tear before it could fall, his voice low and rough in the smoke-thick air. “Dinnae cry, lass. I’ve got ye.”
The words carried the weight of command, yet there was something in them—something raw and tender—that unraveled her completely. She nodded because she had no strength left to argue, but it was a lie; the tears kept coming, silent andrelentless, cutting through the soot on her cheeks as if her body refused to believe she was still alive.
He rose to his full height then, turning sharply toward the men still fighting the blaze, his voice carrying through the crackle of fire and the crash of water against burning wood. “Gordon! Douse that wall before it spreads! Bruce—take the south side! I want every ember gone before the wind changes!”
The words struck like steel, pulling the men into motion. Even through the haze clouding her mind, Catherine could hear them obey, the shouted replies vanishing into smoke. The rain had begun to fall harder now, each drop hissing when it met the heat, the sound of it almost like a sigh from the earth itself.
Aidan did not leave her, not for a moment. He shouted orders without once turning his eyes away from her, one hand still anchored to her shoulder as though the act of touching her was the only proof she was real. Around them, the fire hissed and spat, the smell of wet ash thickening as the orange light dimmed to a tired glow. Steam rose in pale ribbons, curling around his plaid and vanishing into the dark.
Slowly—so slowly it felt like the world itself was exhaling—the noise began to fade. The shouts quieted, the crackle softened, until only the rain remained, washing over the ruins of what had nearly taken her.
Aidan stood still for a long moment, his chest heaving with the rhythm of exhaustion and relief, and when he finally exhaled, it was sharp and heavy, a sound pulled from the depths of a manwho had come far too close to losing something he did not yet know how to name.
“Only three huts,” Gordon called, coming up behind him. “The rest are safe. Losses minimal.”
Aidan nodded once, eyes still scanning the smoking edge of the village. “And MacLeod?”
Gordon shook his head. “Gone. Slipped through before the fire was out. We found the bodies o’ two o’ his men by the north path. Looks like he left in haste.”
A muscle tightened in Aidan’s jaw. “He’ll nae stay gone fer long.”
“Likely nae,” Gordon agreed.
Aidan’s gaze flicked back to Catherine, and his voice softened. “See tae the families. They’ll have supplies from the keep before dawn.”
Gordon clapped a hand to his shoulder, nodded once at Catherine, then strode off into the dark.
For a long moment, the only sound was the soft patter of rain. Catherine sat perfectly still, her body trembling from the inside out. Every nerve felt raw, every breath uncertain. Aidan crouched beside her again, his eyes searching her face.
“Can ye stand?”
She tried. Her legs barely held. He caught her instantly, an arm firm around her waist.
“I dinnae think so,” he murmured, almost to himself.
Her voice came out small. “I can ride.”
He looked down at her, rain streaking through the soot on his face. “Aye,” he said finally, “but nae alone.”
He led her to his horse, the great black beast stamping and restless at the edge of the yard. Aidan mounted first, then pulled her up before him with one effortless motion. She gasped as she landed against his chest, his arm wrapping securely around her.
His warmth was almost unbearable. She could feel the rise and fall of his breath, the steady rhythm of his heart under her cheek. She closed her eyes, letting herself rest against him. The scent of smoke and rain and iron filled her lungs. She didn’t understand how it was possible to feel both safe and unmoored, to tremble from fear and something else entirely, but she let it happen
He shifted slightly, adjusting the reins. “Hold tight.”
The horse moved, hooves splashing through the mud as they left the ruined huts behind. Catherine glanced back once, watching the smoke curl upward into the night, and felt a strange ache of grief and relief tangled together.
Her sisters would be safe. She was safe. But the memory of those flames would not leave her soon.
Aidan’s voice was low beside her ear. “Ye shouldnae have been out there alone.”
