He disappeared into the tent and emerged moments later with parchment, ink, and a portable writing case. He settled on a log near one of the dying fires and began writing, his expression grim in the flickering light.
Mhairi moved to sit beside him, watching the careful formation of letters across the page.
"What are ye writin’?" she asked.
"A letter to Ashcombe." His jaw was tight. "Telling him exactly what I think of his tactics and what will happen if he tries this again."
"Will he even read it?"
"Oh, he'll read it. And he'll understand that this changes everything." Alpin's voice was cold with controlled fury. "He thought he could terrorize me people into giving ye back. Instead, he's just guaranteed I'll never surrender ye tae him. Nae fer any price."
He finished writing and sealed the letter with wax, pressing his signet ring into it with deliberate force.
"Duncan!" he called, and one of his warriors appeared from the shadows. "Find our fastest rider. This letter goes tae Ashcombe's camp taenight. I’m sure he’s around here somewhere. I want him tae have it by mornin’."
"Aye, me laird." Duncan took the letter and disappeared.
Alpin stood, brushing off his hands, and turned to Mhairi. "Now. Where were we?"
"Ye were about tae show me our tent."
"Our tent." He tested the words, a smile breaking through his earlier grimness. "I like the sound of that."
The tent was larger than Mhairi had expected, with a proper floor of woven mats and cushions piled in one corner to create a makeshift bed. Someone had left a lamp burning low, casting warm light across the interior.
"It's nae the castle," Alpin said, "but it's comfortable enough."
"It's perfect." Mhairi moved to the cushions, suddenly feeling the exhaustion of the day settle into her bones. "I cannae believe everything that happened these past two days. The attack, the foragin’, the..." She touched her hand where his ring would eventually rest. "The proposal."
"Regrets?" His tone was light, but she could hear the thread of genuine concern.
"Nay. Just... overwhelmed." She sank onto the cushions with a sigh. "This mornin’ I woke up as yer guest. Taenight I'm going tae sleep as yer betrothed. It's a lot tae process."
Alpin knelt beside the cushions, his hands gentle as he began unlacing her boots. "Then dinnae process it all taenight. Just rest."
"What are ye daeing?"
"Takin’ care of ye." He slipped off one boot, then the other, setting them aside carefully. "Ye've been on yer feet all day tendin’ the wounded and organizin’ supplies. The least I can dae is help ye get comfortable."
His hands moved to her cloak, untying the clasp at her throat. The fabric slid from her shoulders, and he folded it neatly before setting it aside.
"Alpin."
"Lie back," he said softly. "Let me take care of ye."
Mhairi obeyed, settling against the cushions. Alpin retrieved a blanket from the pile and spread it over her, tucking it around her shoulders with careful attention.
"Better?" he asked.
"Aye, but?—"
He silenced her with a kiss. It was gentle, unhurried, his lips moving against hers with a tenderness that made her chest ache.
"I get tae dae this now," he murmured. "Kiss ye whenever I want. Take care of ye. Call ye mine."
"Ye've been daein’ those things already."
"Aye, but now it's official." His hand cupped her cheek. "Now everyone kens ye're spoken fer. That ye're nae just someone I'mprotectin’, ye're someone I'm choosin’. Someone I'm buildin’ a future with."
