Aila fought to blink back tears—a mixture of pride and sorrow for the boy’s bravery.
“Aye,” she soothed. “Ye have been training so verra hard. It will be a great help in keeping Elsie safe.”
She reached out a hand to the other two children who had rushed in only seconds before, eyes wild with fear.
“Come here, my loves,” she beckoned, her voice soft. “We are going to keep ye safe. We will nae let anything happen to ye. But ye must do as we ask. Aye?”
Elsie, tears already streaming down her face, nodded slowly. Christopher puffed up his chest and took her hand, determined to be a stout big brother. Lachlan set Arran down next to the other two and placed a hand on the shoulder of each of the boys.
“Swear to me that ye will stay in the safe room. Swear that ye will obey James’ parents. That ye will mind what they say. Swear to me that nay matter what ye hear, ye will nae come out.”
“I swear it, M’Laird,” Christopher answered, his voice steady.
“I swear it, Uncle Loch.”
Nodding, Lachlan looked to where James’ parents were waiting for their charges. The older couple stepped forward and put a firm hand on each of the children. Before she could stop herself, Aila reached out and wrapped the three of them all in a tight hug once more. Elsie’s tears soaked the skin of her neck, while the boy’s fingers dug into her shoulders. Aila never wanted to let go, never wanted to risk this being the last time she ever held these precious children. But she knew she must.
Her heart shattered as she peeled herself away from them, letting them be ushered deep into the heart of the castle. The rest of the clan members were hidden throughout the castle rooms, tucked into the servants’ corridors and secret rooms. She knew that the children would do likewise. It was the safest place for them. The next best thing she could do was fight with every ounce of her strength to ensure their future.
Lachlan’s warm and steady hand landed on her shoulder. She almost collapsed into tears at the heat of it, but steeled her heart.
“The time has come,” she told him. “We must join our people.”
Together, the Laird and Lady of the Kincaid Clan strode out of the castle, swords in hand. As they stepped into the courtyard, the sun high in the sky, the doors to the castle slammed closed before the guards stationed inside barricaded it shut. She glanced up to the ramparts, taking stock of the lines of archersalready positioned, arrows loaded and pointing towards the forest edge.
Lachlan led her through the lines of soldiers, his feet never faltering. At the front, her horse, Knight, as well as Lachlan’s war horse stood waiting for them.
Despite the dread pooling in her belly, Aila felt a surge of pride. As far as she could see, men were lined and armed, waiting to defend their home. Allies and soldiers of their own, determined to do whatever it took to protect their land.
But the pride she felt at seeing the soldiers was nothing compared to the pride she felt when she watched Lachlan. He moved through the crowd with grace, power, and ease. The anguished father he had been only minutes before was gone. His shoulders were squared, a claymore strapped to his back, glistening in the sun. Daggers were strapped to his bare legs, his kilt moving with every powerful step he took.
As he moved, his head swiveled, being sure to lock eyes with the commanders that he passed. He gave reassuring nods and stern glances to the fighters. She knew as well as he did that they were all looking to him to lead them, looking to him to know everything would be all right. And Lachlan rose to the occasion.
He was every bit the proud Laird he had been raised to be. She could see in the set of his jaw the generations of leaders who had come before him, breeding into him a stalwart heart that would do whatever it took to defend his homeland. And she would do whatever it took to help him.
The air was thick with tension as Lachlan made it to his horse’s side and Aila to hers. Soldiers shifted on their feet, adjusting the grip of their swords as they waited for the Baron’s army to break through the tree line. Even the creatures around them seemed to anticipate the battle—the horses stood silently, the birds holding back their songs.
Aila notched her bow and pulled the arrow back tight, ready to let the pointed weapon fly at the first sight of their intruders. She listened for signs of riders, of a great army headed their way. But when the moment came, it was a sole rider that emerged from the woods. It mattered little to Aila. She took aim, her fingers taut on the string, waiting for the clear shot.
“Dinnae shoot!”
Taryn’s cries nearly startled Aila into loosing the arrow, despite her shouts for the opposite.
“Lower yer weapons! Put down yer bows!”
Every order became more and more frantic as Taryn raced down the rampart stairs, sprinting towards Aila.
“What is going on?” Lachlan all but growled.
“Dinnae shoot her!”
“Her?”
Galloping towards them as fast as possible, Aila caught sight of the woman’s face, the wind having ripped back the hood of her cloak. Her hair whipped around her face, terror and exhaustion etched into the eyes that looked nearly identical to James’.
“Laura!”
The name on Taryn’s lips was all it took to send her into motion.
