“I yield,” she called out.
Arran chuckled as he sheathed his sword and closed the distance between them. “Ye could have easily made me yield, Ainslee.”
She looked up at her husband, hearing the teasing note in his voice. “How is that?”
He leaned down to her, tucking her hair behind her ear. “A kiss.”
Ainslee laughed then, and he brushed his lips over hers before turning back to the crowd that had gathered to watch the laird and his new wife spar. Her heart was light for the first time since her parents had perished, and she had a renewed outlook on her future.
She was going to be happy here.
Arran turned back to her, plucking the sword out of her hand. “Off with ye now,” he said softly, “as ye do nothing but distract me.”
Ainslee gave him a saucy smile. He winked at her before striding off, whistling as he had this morning.
“Well now,” Morea remarked once Ainslee made her way back to her. “I’ve never seen him so happy before. ’Tis ye, Ainslee, that puts the smile on his face.”
It was the same with hers.
15
Arran gazed at the warriors before him, clasping his hands behind his back. In truth, he was worried about what he saw before them. Some were far too young, while others were older, but they were all that they had, and if the clan wanted to finally break free of McDougal’s hold, he had to trust that they would be successful.
“They are all yers,” Cameron said softly as he stood next to Arran.
Arran cleared his throat. Before every battle, his da would address his warriors, giving them hope that they would return home to their families, to their clan, victorious. Even in the face of great adversity, the words were important, and Arran had carried on the tradition. His first speech had not been full of words that the warriors needed to hear, but he had learned to speak from the heart over the years, and today it would be no different. They needed to know that he had faith they would come home.
“Tomorrow, we will march for this clan. We will march for our sons and daughters, for our wives, for our mothers. We will march tae ensure that this clan remains in the rightful hands of our future generations.
“But I dinnae wish for ye tae think that we are invincible, that we dinnae bleed. We do. I have seen it, felt it, experienced it firsthand at the hands of this enemy. He took everything from me, and it was by the faith of one woman, mah wife, that I am standing before ye today.
“I wilnae lie tae ye. We face a formidable foe, but if we keep in our hearts what we are fighting for, we can win this.”
“Aye!” the warriors responded, clasping their hands to their chests with respect for Arran.
“Aye!” Cameron echoed.
“Aye!” Malcolm replied, nodding at Arran.
Arran waited until they quieted. “Tonight, celebrate with yer clan. Celebrate the fact that ye are alive and walking this earth. Drink yer ale, love on yer woman, and kiss yer children goodnight. Dinnae forget what ye are fighting for.”
There was another round of ayes before the warriors departed.
Malcolm approached his brother. “Ye are worried,” he stated.
“Aye,” Arran sighed, rubbing his face. Though he would not admit it to his warriors, his brother needed to know that they would be going into the fray without the confidence he wished he had.
Malcolm placed a hand on his shoulder. “As ye said, we will remember what we are fighting for. Have faith, Brother. Even the littlest have tae become big.”
Arran chuckled. “When did ye become so philosophical?”
Malcolm grinned. “Uncle Fergus gives me advice when he is deep in his cups. It sounded appropriate after what ye just said.”
Arran wrapped his arm around his brother’s shoulders, and they started back to the keep. “I cannae talk ye into staying behind, can I?”
“Nay,” Malcolm said softly. “Someone must watch yer back.”
That evening, the keep was full of clansmen and their families, giving one last Scottish revelry before the warriors would leave and protect their land.
