Baird smiled. “Then we are honored tae provide the memory.”
As he carried her toward the door, she rested a hand lightly against his shoulder. Davina could tell she was content and unafraid. But just before crossing the threshold, she paused.
“Could we linger a moment?” she asked softly. “Just one last look.”
Baird stopped at once.
Mrs. MacLeod gazed around the cottage. Her eyes caressed the hearth worn smooth by years of tending, then the small table by the window and the bed where she had dreamed and grieved andloved. Her expression held only tenderness for everything in the little home.
Davina stepped closer. “It will nae be the last time ye are here,” she said gently. “When this is over, we will bring ye back.”
Mrs. MacLeod smiled. Her eyes were shining, as if she were on the brink of tears. “I ken. Homes remember their people.” Then, she patted Baird gently on the shoulder. “All right, me dear lad. We may go.”
Baird carried Mrs. MacLeod to his horse with the same care he had shown all along, moving and speaking softly as though afraid the moment itself might bruise her.
“Easy now,” he murmured as he turned her gently, settling her sideways against the saddle.
He adjusted the cloak around her shoulders and made certain her skirts were clear, with one strong arm firm around her back while the other tested her balance with practiced assurance. Davina stayed close, her hand never leaving the old woman’s arm.
“I’ve got ye,” she said quietly, ready to steady her at the smallest sway.
Mrs. MacLeod chuckled. “Between the two of ye, I feel safer than a hen in a warm coop.”
Baird smiled and tightened his hold just a fraction as he checked the stirrup length and the saddle straps once more. Only when he was satisfied did he step back enough to look at her properly.
“Are ye comfortable?” Davina asked.
“Very much so,” Mrs. MacLeod said at once. “Quite spoiled, if ye ask me.”
Her gaze moved between them then. It focused on Baird first, then Davina and her smile became even more cheerful.
“Ye make a lovely pair,” she told them gently. “Strong where it matters. Kind where it counts.”
Davina felt heat rise to her cheeks. “That is very kind of ye.”
“Aye,” Mrs. MacLeod said. “I’ve lived long enough tae ken when two folk are better together than apart.”
Baird cleared his throat, though there was no hiding the softness that crept into his expression.
“If ye are ready,” he said, “we will be off.”
Mrs. MacLeod nodded, patting his arm. “Whenever ye are ready, me laird.”
As Baird mounted behind her and gathered the reins, Davina swung onto her own horse, one last glance ensuring the old woman was steady and warm. Then they turned toward the road once more.
The path ahead was uncertain, but their small company was bound together by care, courage, and the quiet grace of not leaving anyone behind.
CHAPTER 36
By the time they reached the castle gates, dusk had settled heavy and blue over the hills.
Baird could feel the exhaustion in every step of the horse beneath him, in the way Mrs. MacLeod leaned back against his chest, in the quiet lag of the wagons ahead. The villagers had done well. In fact, better than he might have hoped, but fear and haste were poor companions for long travel.
The gates loomed open, as torches flared on either side, their light spilling outward like a promise. Guards hurried forward at once as they recognized the returning party.
“Inside,” Baird ordered. “All of them.”
The villagers moved through the gates in uneven lines, some dragging their feet, others clutching children half-asleep in their arms. A few looked back over their shoulders, as though expecting shadows to follow them in.
