“I doubted ye wanted me tae wake ye,” he chuckled, nodding to Bridget. “I wouldnae either.”
Irvine grinned, thinking back to the time he shared with her. He wanted her to come with him to his castle—to his clan—but didn’t know how she would react when he asked. Would she come?
“We are going home today,” he said softly.
“Finally,” Malcolm muttered, rising from his bed. “Though I imagine there will be a fight on our hands when we do get there.”
Irvine clenched his hands into fists. “Aye, I’m betting on it.” He wanted his great-uncle to approach him, to try and go against what Irvine had been able to accomplish even in the face of adversity. The current laird had slaughtered innocent people on this farm, and he needed to pay for his crimes. Once the elders heard the story, they would be less inclined to side with the older Scot anyway.
After changing his clothing and dunking his head into the cold water barrel outside, Irvine entered to find Bridge sitting on his bed, her cheeks flushed.
“Good morning,” she whispered. “I didnae mean tae fall asleep here.”
Irvine crouched before her, placing his hands on her thighs. “Lass, ye didnae do anything wrong last night. I selfishly kept ye here. Ye can blame it all on me if ye want.”
She bit her lip, and Irvine fought the urge to kiss her. “Aye, I know. I’m not worried aboot mah reputation. I just, I should have been going after mah father.”
Reaching out, Irvine grasped her chin lightly and forced her to meet his gaze. “There was nothing ye could have done last night.” He then swallowed. “Would ye like tae come with me tae rescue yer da?”
“Aye,” she said without hesitation.
Irvine nodded, and before he could stop himself, he leaned forward and brushed his lips over hers. “I hope that ye are learning I have nothing more than the best interest of the clan and the farm in mah mind, lass.”
Her hands framed his face, and he felt the tremble in her touch. “Aye, Irvine,” she said, her eyes searching his. “And I hope that we can perhaps find common ground after all this is over.”
Oh, he expected to make her his wife, but Irvine kept that to himself for now. There were far more important things that they had to deal with first before he started to think about his future.
So, he pulled back from her touch and helped her off the bed. “Go on now,” he stated, handing Bridget her coat. “Get ready. It will be a long, hard ride back tae mah land.”
And it was. They rode throughout the day, only stopping for water for the horses when they became labored. By the time the village came into view, Irvine’s face was chapped from the biting wind and his body like a block of ice.
“Halt!” the guard called out as they approached the closed gate to the castle. “State yer claim.”
Irvine swung his leg over the horse and dismounted, unwrapping the scarf that Bridget had insisted on him wearing over his mouth. “Let us through.”
The guard took a step forward before his eyes widened. “Irvine?”
“Aye,” Irvine replied, giving the guard a nod. “’Tis I.”
“But ye’re d-dead,” he stammered, his face as pale as the snow on the ground.
Irvine sighed inwardly. “I’m not, as ye can see. Open the gate.”
The guard scrambled to do so, and Irvine grabbed his horse’s reins, leading it through the open gate and into the courtyard of the castle he had always known. Malcolm and Bridget dismounted, and together they entered the castle, Bridget remaining close to his side. He knew that it had to be difficult to walk into the lair of the enemy, but Irvine also knew she would do whatever it took to save her father.
“Irvine?”
Irvine watched as his mother rose from the chair near the fire, her face withdrawn and pale. Next to her, his father was doing the same, his jaw slack as he noticed his son.
“Mother, ’tis me,” he said softly, the emotion welling in his throat. It had only been a little over a week since he had seen them, but it felt like a lifetime.
“Oh, thank God!” she cried out, closing the distance to throw her arms around his shoulders. “We thought...we thought ye were dead!”
“Aye, so I heard,” he said as his father approached them. “But I’m far from dead.”
“I knew ye weren’t,” William stated, tears in his eyes. Irvine had never seen his father so emotional before, and it humbled him.
Irvine pulled away from his mother and clasped forearms with his father, feeling him tremble under his touch. “’Tis Uncle Kenneth.”
