Understanding settled within her as their shared secret deepened their connection. She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. Their hands explored and caressed, their urgency escalating until Moira took command of their union. This time there was only the fierce joy of two people entwined in the ancient dance of love.
*
Sunlight filled theinfirmary as Moira’s sisters tended to the wounded. Ailis moved efficiently from one patient to another,her dark hair tied back and green eyes focused. Moira, distracted, sorted through a pile of clean bandages.
“Your mind seems elsewhere,” Fiona noted, standing beside Moira.
“Perhaps,” Moira admitted, keeping Brodie’s secret about his lineage to herself.
In the late afternoon, Moira and Ailis exchanged their healer’s aprons for cloaks and quivers, venturing into the Highland forest to hunt.
“Let’s find a stag before sunset,” Ailis said with determination in her eyes.
As they left the keep, guards trailed discreetly behind them—a comforting yet frustrating necessity. Moira missed the days when she and her sisters could move about freely and not have to constantly be worried about the danger of encroaching armies.
“Aye, always watching,” Moira muttered.
Ailis said, “Better our own than Sinclairs.”
They navigated the dense underbrush, their senses alert. Soon enough, Ailis spotted a majestic stag grazing in a clearing. Wordlessly, they readied their bows, releasing their arrows with deadly precision. Approaching the fallen animal, Moira felt a mix of pride and reverence for its sacrifice.
“Granny will have her pot ready for this one,” Ailis commented as they prepared the stag for transport. “Her venison stew warms the soul.”
Moira smiled at the thought of Granny’s legendary meal that awaited them. “Agreed—there’s no finer way to honor this beast.”
Securing the stag, the sisters returned to the keep. Moira’s heart warmed with satisfaction, and anticipation of the feast ignited joy in the fading light.
The heather crunched softly beneath their boots as Moira and Ailis walked ahead of the guards who carried the stag back to the keep. Shadows stretched across the rugged Highlands, painting them in amber and gold.
“Freedom’s a rare gift these days,” Ailis mused, gazing at the landscape. “Despite the war, we can still roam with our bows.”
“Aye,” Moira replied, her thoughts drifting. “Lucas Gordon warned us of the battle ahead.”
“Trust is hard-earned,” Ailis agreed. “To stand strong, we must lean on truths.”
As McAfee Keep loomed above them, they noticed soldiers clad in different tartans practicing on the open grounds.
“New allies—Clan MacKenzie and Clan Ross,” Ailis observed. “The emissaries are doing their jobs. I pray they’ll be able to get more clans to join us soon.”
“With strength like this, we might just turn the tide,” Moira said, hope swelling in her heart.
Ailis whispered a prayer that more clans would join their cause.
As they entered through the gates, sounds of clashing swords filled the air. United and purposeful, they were ready for what lay ahead.
Shadows flickered on the bedchamber walls as Moira sat, hands clasped tight. Brodie entered, soothing the turmoil that stirred within her from witnessing the clans’ armies.
“Ye look troubled, lass,” he said softly.
“I’ve been thinking about Clan MacKenzie and Clan Ross. Have any other lairds answered our call?” Moira asked.
“Only those two. We’ve yet to hear from the others,” Brodie replied, face etched with responsibility.
Her heart sank, but she mustered determination. “And if they dinnae come? Are we enough?”
Brodie sat beside her, his hand finding hers. “We are Highlanders, Moira. We fight fiercely for our own. But alliances take time.”
She sighed and squeezed his hand. “Patience was never me strong suit.”
“Nor mine,” he admitted, half-smiling. “But for our clans—for our future—we will wait and stand ready.”
Moira nodded, newfound strength surging through her. With Brodie by her side, they would face the uncertain future together, their bond unyielding as war approached.
