“I am not going anywhere.”
“But yer place is with them,” she argued insensibly.
“My place is at your side. I am not leaving.”
She swallowed hard and nodded, gratefully.
“We have to get to the others,” he told her. “We must be as ready as we can be to fight.”
19
THE LAIRD AND HIS LADY
Aila’s stomach roiled. She could hardly make sense of what her ears were telling her.
“It is nae time,” she protested. “They were nae supposed to attack for days yet. It is nae time.”
Even as she spoke, she threw her bow over her back alongside the quiver full of arrows. Taryn did the same, while Lachlan and James strapped on more weapons than she had ever seen either of them carry.
“Get to the battlements,” Lachlan ordered. “Secure us from the air. Stay as far away from the battle as ye can.”
She had anticipated this order from him. She knew her husband well enough to know that he was going to try everything he could to keep her from danger. But he should have known she was never going to allow that to happen. They were more than just husband and wife. They were partners in every sense of the word. She would fight at his side, go where he went, protect his back as he protected hers.
She was not a simpering lady, one prone to fainting spells and hysteria. She was a fighter, just as he was, trained for combat. She bore just as many scars as he did. She had witnessed violence and had been the deliverer of fatal blowswhen that was required of her. She was not a coward. She would not hide in the ramparts, content to let their people risk their lives for her while she stayed safely out of reach.
“I am nae leaving yer side,” Aila said in a voice that left no room for argument.
Lachlan stopped only long enough to cast her a mournful look before nodding once. Aila moved to the window, watching as their allies and armies gathered in determined and frenzied lines in the courtyard and village fields that lay just beyond. Women and children scampered into the castle, panic written on every face. Aila’s heart nearly shattered at the sight of all the chaos. Behind her, Lachlan gave orders to those in command, telling them where to stand, what signals to watch for.
The room erupted into chaotic movement as everyone dashed to carry out Lachlan’s orders. She watched Taryn and James leave, hand in hand, making their way through the castle to collect their weapons. Aila knew she would see her friend again, if only on the battlefield. Her heart longed to say something, to tell Taryn how much she loved her. She wanted to find Sorcha, rush to tell her just how much their friendship meant.
The bond Aila shared with the other two women had truly been a lifeline. But there was no time for sentimentality. There was no time for whispered, heartfelt words. Aila couldn’t be anything other than the Lady of Kincaid Castle, proud and strong, leading her people right alongside her husband.
Her heart pounded and her blood thrummed. This was it. The battle they had all been waiting for. The culmination of years of fighting and running and trying to do what is right. Her home, her family were all being put in harm’s way, but she knew there could be no other path forward, no matter how the day might end. The Baron had taken too much, ruined too much, to allow his actions to go unthwarted. He had stolen Lachlan’sfamily, his home, nearly his entire clan right out from under him. Dudley had seen to it that Lachlan wasted years in prison, suffering endlessly, as a cruel form of retribution.
But Lachlan wasn’t the only one who had suffered. Arran, at a mere seven years old, had witnessed the slaughter of his entire family. The clan members who had survived the Baron’s first attack those years ago had been forced to flee their homes and seek out refuge within the safety of a stranger’s land. They had only just returned in the last year, rebuilding their homes and reestablishing their trades.
Taryn, having been bound by a marriage proposal to the Baron, had fled her home under the cover of night, leaving behind everything she had ever known, everyone she had ever loved, all for the hope of survival. Aila had watched her friend look over her shoulder, jumping at almost every shadow for years. It hadn’t been until James had hunted and captured her that Taryn had been able to stare down her past in the face and make peace with it. As much peace as she could, considering her childhood best friend was still an indentured servant to the Baron. James had spent the last several years consumed with guilt that he didn’t protect his sister from Dudley, nearly costing him his life and the lives of his parents.
Everywhere she looked, she could see signs of where Baron Dudley had impacted their lives, and never for the better. Their homes still bore evidence of abandonment, their land still wore scorch marks. Lachlan’s skin, Taryn’s soul, Arran’s innocence had all been scarred by the Baron’s hand. It made Aila’s stomach turn,
“Uncle Loch?”
Arran’s voice, unusually small and timid, came from the doorway of the war room. She didn’t think it was possible, but her heart sank even lower. She turned slowly, just in time to see Lachlan rushing to the boy, scooping him up into a fierce hug.
“It will be different this time,” Lachlan swore. “It will be different.”
Arran threw his arms around Lachlan, eyes peeking over his broad shoulders at her. She went to them then, throwing her arms around them both.
“I will nae allow them to take our home. This ends today.”
Lachlan’s words, determined and hard as steel, sent a shiver down Aila’s spine. She could see in Arran’s face from the paleness of his face and the wide terror in his eyes that the boy was reliving that awful day when the English had last invaded their lands. Arran had lost both of his parents and his sibling that day. He had become a wandering orphan at merely seven, roaming the streets for years, just trying to survive. She could see how horrified Arran was of ever having to do that again. Aila couldn’t blame him. She was just as terrified at the thought.
“I want to fight with ye,” Arran told them both, picking his shoulders up and furrowing his brow with the same crease between them that Lachlan got whenever he was being stubborn.
“Och, my lad,” Lachlan cooed.
“I am nae a lad,” Arran argued. “I am a man, just like ye. I have been training hard. Christopher too. I want to fight. I want to defend our home, our family.”
