"Alpin? What's wrong?"
The concern in her voice only made it harder. She was worried about him when she should have been saving that worry for herself.
He moved to the bench, his legs suddenly feeling heavy. "May I sit?"
"Of course."
He sat beside her, leaving some space between them, though every instinct he had was screaming at him to pull her close, to shield her from what was coming with his own body if he could.
How did this happen? When did she become someone I want tae protect more than me own life?
For a moment he just watched her hands as they stilled on the half-finished flower crown, trying to find the right words.
There were no right words.
Just say it. Fast, like ripping off a bandage. The longer ye wait, the worse it gets.
But his throat felt tight.
He was a laird, for Christ's sake. He'd led men into battle, made impossible decisions, sentenced criminals, negotiated treaties. He knew how to deliver bad news.
Yet sitting there beside her, watching her hands tremble slightly on those fragile flowers, he felt utterly helpless.
And he hated it. Hated every part of it.
"A scout reported back this mornin’," he said finally. "From the southern borders."
Her fingers tightened on the flowers. "And?"
"There are soldiers camped just outside our territory. English soldiers."
He watched the color drain from her face. Watched her hands begin to tremble.
"How many?" Her voice was barely above a whisper.
"About twenty. They're nae makin’ any aggressive moves, just... waitin’."
"It's him." It wasn't a question. "Ashcombe."
"We dinnae ken that fer certain. The scout couldnae get close enough tae identify."
"It's him." The flower crown fell from her lap as she stood abruptly. "Of course it's him. He paid fer me. He thinks he owns me. Why wouldnae he come?"
Alpin rose as well, watching her carefully. Her breathing was coming too fast, panic rising in her eyes.
"Mhairi."
"I have to leave." She was backing away from him. "I cannae stay here. If he attacks because of me, if yer people get hurt?—"
"Stop." Alpin closed the distance between them, his hands settling on her shoulders. "Just stop and breathe for a moment."
"I cannae."
"Aye, ye can. Look at me." He waited until her wild grey eyes met his. "Breathe with me. In through yer nose, out through yer mouth."
He demonstrated, keeping his own breathing slow and steady. After a moment, she began to mirror him. In. Out. In. Out.
Gradually, the worst of the panic receded from her expression.
