"The rules of..." She waved a hand vaguely. "Rescue etiquette."
Callum was laughing. Even some of the other warriors were grinnin' now, though they were tryin' to hide it.
Alpin shook his head, but he was smiling too. "Rescue etiquette. Christ. What am I goin' tae dae with ye?"
"Keep me safe," Mhairi said, her tone shifting from playful to serious. "That's all I'm askin'."
His smile faded into something more intense. More focused. "Aye," he said quietly. "That I can dae."
And as they rode on through the afternoon sun, Mhairi found herself believing him.
CHAPTER FIVE
"This is it?"
Mhairi stood in the doorway of what would apparently be her chamber, taking in the space with wide eyes. It was larger than her room back home. Back at her father's keep, she corrected herself bitterly. That wasn’t home. Not anymore.
The chamber had a proper bed with thick curtains, a wardrobe that looked like it could swallow her whole, a washstand with a basin, and even a small writing desk near the window. Evening light poured through the glass, turning everything golden.
"Aye." Alpin leaned against the doorframe, watching her reaction. "Is it... all right?"
"All right?" Mhairi turned to stare at him. "It's bigger than the solar at Munro lands."
"Then ye'll have plenty of space tae avoid me when I annoy ye." His mouth twitched. "Which, accordin' ae Callum, happens approximately every ten minutes."
"Every eight," Mhairi corrected, and was rewarded with a proper smile.
They'd arrived at MacDougal Castle perhaps half an hour before, riding through gates that had opened in front of them like they were expected.
Warriors had called out greetings to Alpin as they'd passed. Servants had hurried forward to take the horses. And through it all, Alpin had kept close to her side, a steady presence as they'd navigated the unfamiliar courtyard.
He'd brought her straight to his office first—a cluttered room that smelled of leather and parchment, with maps covering nearly every surface. And there, he'd pulled out fresh paper and ink.
"We should write tae yer faither," he'd said. "Let him ken ye're safe."
Safe. She hadn’t wanted to write him at all. But she'd nodded, because, what if Graham had lied about him having sold her off at auction? Together they'd composed the letter.
Mhairi had dictated most of it, choosing her words carefully.
Father, I write tae inform ye that I am well and under the protection of Laird Alpin MacDougal. There has been a grave misunderstanding regarding me circumstances. I hope we can resolve this matter swiftly so that I might return home.
She'd stopped there, throat tight. Return home. Did she even want that anymore? After what Graham had told her, what her father had allegedly done, could she ever go back?
But Alpin had simply written what she'd said, his hand steady as he'd shaped each letter. When they'd finished, he'd sealed it with wax and his own signet ring, then called for a messenger.
"It'll reach yer faither within three days," he'd promised.
Now, standing in that beautiful chamber that was apparently hers, Mhairi felt the weight of everything pressing down on her shoulders.
"The wardrobe has some spare clothes," Alpin was saying, pushing away from the doorframe. "They'll be too large, but at least they're clean. I'll have the seamstress fit them tomorrow."
"Ye dinnae have tae."
"Mhairi." He waited until she looked at him. "Ye arrived here with naethin' but the clothes on yer back and a fair amount of dirt. Let me provide the basics. Please."
The 'please' did it. She nodded, suddenly too tired to argue.
"Good." Alpin moved toward the door. "I'll send someone tae help ye settle. If ye need anything—anything at all—just ask. One of the servants will find me."
