“I cannae shake the feeling that Laura and now Sorcha have put themselves in harm’s way for my sake. And I have done nothing to save them, nothing to help them. What kind of person does that make me?”
“A good one,” Lachlan answered firmly. “That ye have won the devout love of nay just one, but two dear friends, speaks to who ye are. And it is nae true that ye have done nothing for them. Ye were on the brink of giving yerself up to the villain, had Dudley gotten his way with yer uncle. Ye were willing to sacrifice yer own life, yer own happiness to secure their freedom. It simply was nae the best course of action for ye to take.”
“But how?—”
Lachlan interrupted with a finger pointed to the village that lay just outside of the stone courtyard. The sun was unseasonably shining warm and bright, snow melting and water dripping off the newly thatched roofs. Pockets of white snowdrops popped out of the muddied earth, heralding the arrival of spring in earnest.
“Taryn, I am nae exaggerating or bluffing or pacifying ye when I say that I have felt all the things ye feel now. I was consumed with guilt for the role I played in the destruction of my clan, the deaths of my parents and all those I held dear. I blamed myself, as ye are doing now. For years, I sat in a prison cell and grieved and mourned and hated who I was for all the things that had happened here. Those people,” he gestured again, “are everything to me. The thought of putting them in harm’s way puts a knot in my stomach, nay sailor would ever be able to untangle.”
The three sitting down all stared up at Lachlan, enraptured by his speech.
“And when I returned, och, the rage that boiled in my blood was likely to burn me alive. I wanted to hunt down every man who had dared step onto my land and kill them with my bare hands for the part they had played. That does nae even begin to mention all the things I have dreamt of doing to Dudley.”
A dark expression passed over Lachlan’s eyes, sending a spark of worry through Aila. She had walked through his need for revenge with him, helping him to overcome his fury as best she could. The very last thing she wanted was for that unquenchable bloodthirst to come back stronger than ever. But then Lachlan blinked, and the rage was gone, leaving only the man she knew and loved in its place.
“I was angry because I thought they had robbed me of my future.” His words were simple but landed with a punch that had Aila sucking inward as Taryn did the same. He had strucka chord with Taryn. “But then I found ye. And Aila and Sorcha, guarding my castle like three banshees, here to stake their claim. Ye fought with a ferocity few men are capable of showing, all in an effort to protect the home ye had made for yerself, for the children. We rebuilt this place.”
A warm smile spread across his handsome face, shifting his tone entirely.
“Ye helped me find my home and family again. Ye have helped give me something worth fighting for again. It has been difficult and slow, I grant ye that. But we have created something here that must be protected.”
Taryn nodded slowly, silent tears streaming down her face. Aila blinked a few of her own tears away.
“Hope, like the snowdrops, goes underground during the darkest, coldest times.” He bent to pluck a white bell shaped flower from the dirt. “But they are never gone. They are always the first to return at the end of a long winter, reminding us that even in the darkest days, we can always hope things will turn out well for us. Wemustkeep hoping, Taryn.”
This time, she nodded more decidedly, steeling herself with the truth of his words.
Aila opened her mouth to speak, to offer her friend some more comfort, to remind her of the promises they had made long ago when the three girls had first found each other. They had vowed never to forsake each other and had yet to do so before now, Aila had no intention of going back on her word any time soon.
But before she could get a single syllable out, her mouth snapped shut and her head swiveled. Lachlan reached for his sword, as did James and the handful of others who had wandered into the courtyard. Aila whispered, giving the sound a name.
“Horses. Riders are coming.”
16
A WOLF AT THE GATE
Sorcha didn’t notice all the drawn blades or the looks of wary anticipation as she and Oliver rode into the Kincaid lands. She had hardly given the patrol guards any notice either, too focused on making it to see her friends. She had spotted Taryn’s golden hair glimmering in the sun from a ways away and sent her horse running before she could think better of it. Her horse kicked up dust as it sprinted through the village, leaving Oliver calling after her.
“Sorcha!” he shouted, announcing their presence to anyone within earshot. “Slow down!”
Too relieved to be sensible, she kicked the horse faster and faster until she was very nearly flying. Had it not been for the quick instincts of her horse, she would have flown head first into the dirt from the makeshift barricade the guards had made of their own horses.
“Woah,” she huffed, trying to catch her breath.
Oliver came barreling up behind her, much more aware of the danger they were in than Sorcha had been. Her eyes counted all seven of the men, their swords drawn and shoulders ready for battle. She did not recognize any of them, they were probably new recruits or sent by their allies.
“Off yer horses,” the man in the center ordered. “Now.”
“I am Sorcha, family of Laird and Lady Kincaid. Ye must take me to see them. We have news they need to hear.”
“I will do nothing of the sort,” the man retorted with a snort. “Now, get out of yer saddles and step away from the horses.”
“All right,” Sorcha agreed easily, slipping from her seat. “But truly, I tell ye that Lachlan and Aila ken me well. Ye must bring us to see them.”
Oliver hesitated, not moving from his spot for a long moment as he weighed the situation at hand. The men stared down each other and Sorcha nearly rolled her eyes.
“The sooner ye do as he says, the sooner we can give Aila and Lachlan our news,” Sorcha told him, spinning to give him a stubborn look, her hands on her shoulders.
