An abduction. A raid in the night. Hired men slipping through their defenses while everyone slept.
The thought made his blood run cold.
But if he gave in to that fear, if he locked her away and treated her like a prisoner for her own protection, then Ashcombe wouldhave won anyway. He'd have stolen her freedom just as surely as if he'd dragged her back to England himself.
Mhairi needed normalcy. Needed to keep building her life, keep learning, keep growing into the person she was meant to be. She needed to go into town with Donnach, to treat real patients, to feel like she belonged somewhere.
She needed to stop being afraid.
And that meant Alpin couldn't let his own fear control his decisions.
He would protect her, God knows he'd die before he let Ashcombe take her, but he'd do it without smothering the life she was trying to build. He'd assign guards when she traveled, double the patrols, stay vigilant.
But he wouldn't cage her.
He couldn't let Ashcombe's shadow steal that from her.
Finally, Alpin stood and headed for the door.
He had something he needed to do, something to remind both himself and Mhairi that there was more to life than fear and threats and men camped at borders.
The afternoon sun was warm as Alpin made his way to the stables. He'd sent word for Mhairi to meet him there, though he hadn't explained why.
She was already waiting when he arrived, leaning against the fence and watching the horses with that quiet intensity that tookhold of her sometimes. Her brown dress was practical, worn for work rather than show, and her hair hung loose down her back.
"Ye're mysterious today," she said as he approached. "Sendin' cryptic messages through servants."
"Am I nae always mysterious?"
"Ye're always somethin'." Her eyes were warm with humor. "What's this about?"
"Come here." Alpin pulled a stool from inside the stable and set it down. "Sit."
Mhairi raised an eyebrow but obeyed, settling onto the stool with her back to him. "Should I be worried?"
"Only if ye're afraid of havin' yer hair touched." Alpin gathered the dark strands gently, dividin' them into sections. "I'm goin' tae braid it. We're ridin' out, and ye'll thank me later when yer hair isnae a tangled mess."
He worked slowly, carefully, weaving the strands together the way his mother had taught him so long ago. Mhairi sat very still, though he could feel the slight tension in her shoulders.
"Relax," he murmured. "I'm nae goin' tae hurt ye."
"I ken that." But her voice was softer now, quieter. "It's just... intimate."
"Aye. It is."
They were quiet for a moment, the only sound the distant whinny of horses and the rustle of wind through the courtyard. Alpin's fingers moved steadily, braiding tight enough to hold but loose enough not to pull.
"Where are we ridin'?" Mhairi asked.
"Ye'll see."
"That's nae an answer."
"It's the only one ye're gettin' right now." He secured the end of the braid with a leather tie. "There. Done."
Mhairi reached back to touch the plait. "Thank ye."
"Dinnae thank me yet. Ye might hate where we're goin'."
