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“Would it be terribly foolish,” she asked quietly, “if I wished to change into one of the new gowns before we leave for Lemlair?”

Even as the words left her mouth, uncertainty followed them. Some wounded part of her still waited to be told she asked too much.

But Gavan’s expression changed almost immediately. Something sharpened there first, then softened just as quickly.

“Nay,” he said at once, the answer firmer than she expected. Then his voice gentled. “I think it would be a crime if you did not.”

Warmth touched her cheeks before she could stop it. “You make it sound very serious indeed.”

“It is,” he replied gravely, though amusement flickered unmistakably in his eyes now. “The tailor would never forgive either of us if his work went unappreciated.”

A smile escaped her more easily this time, small but genuine enough that she saw something in him ease in return.

“Then I suppose I should not risk offending the man who controls half the wool in Dingwall.”

“A wise decision.”

Sorcha shook her head softly, still smiling as she turned towards the back room, where she hoped to find not only the tailor but also a dressing room. Yet before she parted the curtain, she glanced back towards Gavan once more.

“Which one?” she asked. “The green or the gold?”

The question seemed simple enough until she saw the way his gaze settled upon her, sending a slow warmth spiralling through her chest.

“The green,” he said quietly. Then, after the briefest pause, “Though I confess I am not entirely certain my restraint would survive the gold.”

The words caught her completely unprepared.

Heat rushed instantly into her face, but stranger still, she did not look away from the dangerous tenderness in his gaze or contain the faint breath of laughter that escaped her as she slipped into the back room.

*

The ride from Dingwall began in silence. Not the strained silence of uncertainty, nor the brittle quiet that had shadowed their first journey together from Lemlair, but something steadier now.

Snow lay thick across the hills, softening the Highlands beneath a mantle of white. Their horses moved at an unhurried pace, breath misting in the cold air while the rhythmic crunch of hooves through snow settled into something almost companionable. They did not ride pressed close together, yet neither did they drift apart. The space between them felt intentional rather than distant, a quiet understanding neither needed to force into words.

Gavan found his gaze moving towards Sorcha more than once, despite telling himself not to. The green gown beneath her cloak had changed more than her appearance. It had changed the way she carried herself. She sat straighter now, no longer braced against the motion of the horse as though expecting the world itself to throw her down. The line of her back moved naturally with the saddle, confident and balanced, and there was an ease about her. The sight unsettled him in ways battle never had.

The road curved steadily northward through frost-covered pines while Dingwall slowly disappeared behind them into winter haze. Guards rode both ahead and behind, their presence no longer merely ceremonial. Calder remained free somewhere within the Highlands, and none of them were foolish enough to forget it.

Gavan felt the weight of that truth settle beside him as surely as the cold itself. Not fear exactly, but awareness. The sense that the world had shifted beneath them and would not soon settle again.

“We will not have quiet for long,” he said at last.

Sorcha glanced towards him, understanding immediately. “Nay.”

“Calder will not accept what happened in that courtroom.”

“He may not have a choice.”

“He has fewer allies now,” Gavan admitted. “But desperate men often become dangerous men.” His gaze swept briefly across the line of the trees before returning forward again. “Still, after fleeing openly before so many different clans, he would be a fool to strike directly at Munro lands too quickly. Every eye in the Highlands watches him now.”

Sorcha studied him quietly. “You think he will hide.”

“For a time.” Gavan’s mouth hardened slightly. “He will gather what loyalty remains to him and wait for anger and uncertainty to soften into rumour again.”

“And until then?”

“Until then, we prepare.” He kept his voice calm, refusing to burden her with the unease gathering inside him.