“Ye threw a bear?” Aila asked, trying to make sense of it all.
At the same moment, Lachlan’s eyes flitted to his old nanny, an eyebrow raised.
“Ye swooned? I did nae ken a woman as stout as ye kent how to do such a thing.”
Edith, trying to look stern, waved Lachlan off, but her control lasted only a moment before she was bursting into nearly hysterical laughter.
“Och, my lad,” she said fondly, “ye should have seen yer wee warriors. They were ferocious devils. I daresay, the poor man never stood a chance.”
Alarm went through him as he started to realize what Edith was saying.
“An Englishman? Someone found ye?” he pressed, scanning the three children and then Edith over for any signs of injury.
“Aye,” Arran answered, his chest puffed with pride. “He came in alone, sneaking and snooping about. Nearly upended the whole room before he ever got close to our hiding spot.”
“That’s when Nanny Edith fainted,” Christopher chimed in, his own smile broad.
“What did ye do?” Lachlan asked, his own pride in the children growing.
“I kent the only advantage I would have was surprise. So before he could find us, I jumped out of the closet and onto his back when he was nae looking. He put up a fight. I was nae likely to win.”
It was then that Lachlan could see the bruise starting to bloom on Arran’s cheek. Rage simmered just beneath the surface, but Lachlan kept himself in place, promising to deal with the man later.
“So we jumped out too!” Elsie exclaimed, hands on her hips in the same warrior pose Aila had a tendency to adopt whenever she was facing a problem.
“Ye did?” Aila blinked. “But ye were supposed to stay hidden.”
“We could nae let the man hurt Arran,” Christopher told her, as if it were a clear line of logic she was rather ridiculous for not having followed.
She chuckled, ruffling the boy’s hair.
“Aye, I suppose ye are right. So then what happened?”
“I told ye, I threw a bear at him.”
“She means the bear shaped bookend,” Christopher explained with a roll of eyes.
Lachlan still saw the small smile creep onto his mouth, though.
Cradling his family in his arms, safe and warm and free from threat or harm, Lachlan was nearly overcome with gratitude. He didn’t have the chance to express that for the next several hours, however.
The Great Hall turned into a makeshift surgery. Mary and Edith worked their way around the tables, stitching up wounds and setting bones. Taryn and Sorcha followed after, offering herbs and salves and anything else they could come up with to relieve lingering aches and pain. Behind them, Aila with some of the other clanswomen—including James and Laura’s mother, Isobel—offered food and ale.
Lachlan stood to the side, making friendly conversation with Iona, while Finn and James swapped methods and training routines for the men. Oliver kept busy with standing watch over the few Englishmen who had wandered in for treatment. He also saw to the order of the courtyard, his presence ensuring that by the time the sun had set, he was the only Englishman still on Kincaid soil.
The frenetic movement of the room mellowed into the din of a somewhat normal dinner. Of course, there were three times as many mouths to feed with the McGregors and McKenzies still in attendance, but things were calm enough. Lachlan climbed onto the dais, pleased to find that in only a few hours time, he hadmanaged to become acquainted with most people in the room enough to recognize their faces. Aila stood beside him, her cup in hand, and together, they surveyed their clan.
“I want to begin,” he called, allowing his voice to carry over the noise, silencing it with ease, “by saying that I will never be able to repay all of ye for yer help today.”
Surprising himself, he managed to keep his voice steady as he spoke. Though, it was still full of the emotions that had not left him since the battle ended.
“I look around this room and see nothing but brave men and women who have fearlessly defended these lands, their home, from an enemy who has plagued us for far too long. Tonight, I will sleep without a weight on my chest, without fear of what tomorrow may bring. I thank ye for the gift ye all given me. It is a peace I have nae kent since I was a lad.”
Flashes of his parents’ faces, of all the kinsmen he had lost over the years, darted in front of his eyes. A pang of longing that they too could be here to celebrate such a day rang through him, but he pressed on.
“To our new friends, the McKenzies.” He lifted his goblet high in salute. “Ye came when ye did nae have to. Ye allied yerselves kenning this day might never come. Ye fight with a fierceness I admire. We have much to learn from ye. To the McKenzies!”
The room echoed his toast, slapping the tabletops and drinking their ale as Lachlan sipped his.
