Michael shrugged, the faintest gleam of pride in his eyes. “Barely. The ridge was nae kind.”
For a heartbeat, the tension eased, the three men standing together as they always had—warriors first, brothers in all butblood. Then Tòrr’s expression shifted, the smile dying as quickly as it had come. He stepped back, his jaw setting hard.
“We rode through the southern ridge,” he said, voice dropping. “The scouts were right. MacLeod’s army’s less than a day behind us.”
Aidan’s face hardened, the warmth between them replaced by the cold edge of command. “Then we’ll be ready.”
Tòrr’s attention shifted. His eyes found Catherine at the far end of the table. The muscle in his jaw tightened.
Aidan felt the change like a blow to the chest. He went still, every muscle drawn taut, his hand tightening around the edge of the table until the wood bit into his palm. He could already see the storm forming in Tòrr’s face, and the words that would follow.
“What in God’s name are ye daein’ here?”
Catherine rose slowly, her voice calm. “I chose tae be.”
“Chose tae be?” Tòrr’s tone turned sharp. “Ye were meant tae be halfway tae Perth by now! Ye defied me orders, lass, and rode back straight intae danger?”
Aidan saw the flicker of defiance in her eyes and felt his own restraint thin. He stepped forward before Tòrr could say more.
“She did what she thought was right,” Aidan said evenly. “Ye cannae fault her fer that.”
Tòrr turned on him. “And ye, Aidan? Ye let her stay? Ye ken what people will say if she’s here when?—”
“When what?” Aidan cut in, his voice low but sharp enough to still the room. “When battle comes? When we bleed tae protect her? She’s MacDonald blood, same as ye, and she has the right tae stand where her fate leads her.”
“This is nae her fate!” Tòrr snapped. “She’s me sister, and I’ll nae see her name dragged through ruin because ye couldnae send her away when ye should’ve.”
Aidan’s temper flared, but his words came cold, deliberate. “I sent her once. I’ll nae dae it again.”
The silence that followed was thick enough to choke on. Michael shifted beside his brother, clearly wishing to speak but wise enough to stay quiet. Catherine’s hands were clasped tightly in front of her; her chin lifted, but he could see the faint tremor in her throat.
Tòrr shook his head slowly, the muscle in his jaw working. “I warned her what dangers lay in these lands, Cameron, and I told her tae keep close tae her sisters, tae listen, tae nae wander where I couldnae keep her safe.”
Aidan said nothing. There was no defense he could make that would not sound like confession.
Catherine spoke instead, her voice quiet but steady. “Ye warned me, aye. And still, I came back.”
Tòrr’s eyes softened for only a moment. “Ye dinnae ken what ye’re riskin’.”
She met his gaze. “Aye, I dae.”
Something in Tòrr’s expression hardened again. He turned back to Aidan, his tone clipped. “We’ll speak on this later.”
Aidan gave a curt nod. “Aye. Later.”
Tòrr straightened, looking toward Gordon, who had appeared by the door. “But there’s a more pressin’ matter now. MacLeod men were less than a mile behind us when we crossed the ridge. They’re movin’ fast, and they’ll be here afore nightfall.”
A low murmur rippled through the room. Aidan felt his pulse quicken, his instincts sharpening, every sense turning to steel.
“How many?” he asked.
“Too many,” Tòrr said. “At least a hundred more than ye’ve got here. Campbell’s banners among them.”
For a moment, all Aidan could hear was the slow crackle of the fire, the faint clatter of a cup set down too hard. Then he spoke, voice calm but carrying through the hall.
“Then we’ll meet them head-on. Every man, every blade. We’ll hold the ridge, and we’ll make them remember why Cameron soil is the last they should ever tread.”
The men around him murmured assent, some grim, some eager.
