Page 35 of The Highlander’s Iron Hold

"Then what was it about?" Morag asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Colin looked at her then, and she saw something vulnerable flicker in his dark eyes before he looked away again.

"I'm still figurin’ that out," he admitted. "But whatever it was... Fraser can never ken about it or he’ll use it against us."

"So we pretend it didn't happen?" Morag asked, hurt creeping into her voice.

"We protect it," Colin corrected firmly. "There's a difference."

"Is there?" Morag challenged. "Because it feels an awful lot like ye're already retreatin’ behind yer walls again."

Colin pulled his horse to a stop suddenly, turning to face her fully. "Dae ye want tae ken the truth, Morag?"

"Always," she said without hesitation.

"The truth is that what happened back there terrifies me more than any army Fraser could raise," Colin said, his voice rough with emotion. "Because fer the first time in years, I had somethin’ tae lose that wasn't about duty or responsibility. It was just... mine."

Morag felt her breath catch at his words. "And that scares ye?"

"It terrifies me," Colin admitted. "Because now I understand what me faither must have felt when he lost me maither. Why he became so... distant afterward. When ye have somethin’ precious, the fear of losin’ it can destroy ye just as surely as actually losing it."

"Am I precious tae ye then, Iron Laird?" Morag demanded.

"That’s what I’m tryin’ tae figure out."

"So what dae we dae?" Morag asked quietly.

Colin looked ahead toward the castle, then back at her. "We learn tae be brave, I suppose. Both of us."

"Taegether?"

"Aye," Colin said, something settling in his expression. "Taegether."

A few minutes later, they crested the hill overlooking Clan Armstrong lands, and Colin pulled up short. A long line of people—men, women, and children—was making its way toward the castle gates, their belongings bundled on their backs or loaded onto makeshift carts. Even from this distance, he could see the weariness in their movements, the way they huddled together for comfort.

"What is this?" Colin muttered, spurring his horse forward.

They reached the castle yard to find controlled chaos. Niven was directing the influx of people, his usually calm demeanor strained as he tried to organize shelter and food for what looked like half the border settlement.

"Niven," Colin called, dismounting quickly. "What's happened?"

His captain turned, relief evident on his weathered face. "Me laird, thank God ye've returned. There was a skirmish at the eastern border about an hour after ye left. Fraser men, near forty of them, tried tae raid the MacLeod settlement."

Colin's jaw tightened. "Casualties?"

"Three of our men wounded, but they'll live. We drove the bastards off, but nae before they'd burned near half the settlement and destroyed the grain stores. These folk have nowhere else tae go."

Colin surveyed the crowd of displaced families, noting the frightened faces of children clinging to their mothers' skirts, the grim expressions of men who'd lost everything they'd worked for. His people, looking to him for protection and provision.

"How many?" he asked.

"Near sixty souls, me lord. Maybe more still coming."

Colin nodded grimly. Fraser was escalating his attacks, moving from cattle raids to outright destruction.

This willnae be the end of it, he thought. It's just the beginning.

"Sheena, tell me what ye're doing to get these people settled and comfortable," Morag went to Sheena, who was directing women and children toward the kitchens. Colin watched as his wife rolled up her sleeves and began organizing sleeping arrangements, her earlier shyness forgotten in the face of genuine need. She moved among the refugees with quiet efficiency, offering comfort to frightened children and practical help to overwhelmed mothers.