Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
Alpin was halfway through his porridge when Callum leaned against the doorframe of the small breakfast room, arms crossed and wearing a knowing smirk.
"What?" Alpin asked without lookin' up.
"Naethin'. Just wonderin' if ye're plannin' tae stare at that door all mornin' or actually eat."
"I'm eatin'."
"Ye're movin' yer spoon around. That's nae the same thing." Callum's grin widened. "Waitin' fer someone?"
"I invited Mhairi tae join me fer breakfast," Alpin said, keeping his tone deliberately casual. "She should be here soon."
"Ah. And ye're nae nervous about that at all."
"Why would I be nervous?"
"Because ye've checked yer hair three times, straightened yer plaid twice, and ye're wearin' yer good shirt." Callum pushed away from the doorframe. "The one ye save for council meetings and impressin' visitin’ lairds."
"It was clean."
"So were four others."
Alpin finally looked up, glarin'. "Dinnae ye have somewhere else tae be?"
"Probably. But this is more entertainin'." Callum's expression softened slightly. "She's good fer ye, ye ken. I havenae seen ye this... present... in a long time."
"Present?"
"Aye. Usually ye're halfway tae the next crisis before ye've finished dealin' with the current one. But with her, ye're actually here. Payin' attention." Callum clapped him on the shoulder. "It's nice tae see."
Before Alpin could respond, footsteps sounded in the corridor. Both men turned as Mhairi appeared in the doorway.
And Alpin forgot how to breathe.
She was wearing borrowed clothes, a simple dress that had clearly been meant for someone taller and broader through the shoulders.
The bodice gaped slightly at the neckline, and she'd had to roll the sleeves up multiple times to keep them from covering her hands completely. The skirt pooled around her feet, forcing her to gather the fabric in one hand just to walk without tripping.
She looked ridiculous.
She looked beautiful.
Dinnae think about her that way.
"I'm sorry I'm late," Mhairi said, her cheeks already flushin' pink. "Walkin’ in this dress was more complicated than I expected—" She stopped, seeming to realize both men were starin' at her. "What?"
"Naethin'," Callum said quickly, though his mouth was twitching. "Ye look... the dress is certainly... it's definitely a dress."
"It daesnae fit," Mhairi said flatly. "I look like a child playin' dress-up in her maither's clothes."
"Ye look fine," Alpin managed, finally finding his voice. Then, because his brain was apparently no longer connected to his mouth: "Beautiful, actually."
Mhairi's eyes snapped to his, wide with surprise. The flush in her cheeks deepened.
Callum made a noise that might've been a cough or might've been a laugh. "Right. Well. I'll just... leave ye two tae yer breakfast." He was already backing toward the door, that damned smirk firmly in place. "Enjoy... talkin'."
Then he was gone, and Alpin was alone with Mhairi.
"Sorry about him," Alpin said, standing and pulling out a chair for her. "Callum thinks he's funny."
"He seems nice." Mhairi moved carefully toward the table, still holding her skirts up. "A bit cheeky, maybe."
"That's puttin' it mildly." Alpin waited until she was seated before returning to his own chair
Alpin pushed a plate of bannocks toward her. "Eat. Ye need tae keep yer strength up."
She took one, breaking it into small pieces. "Ye sound like Freya. She keeps bringin' me food and hoverin' until I eat it."
"Freya's a good lass. Bit nosy, but her heart's in the right place."
They ate in companionable silence for a few minutes. Alpin found himself watching Mhairi more than his own plate—the way she nibbled at her bannock, the way her too-long sleeves kept falling down over her hands, the way she tuckined a strand of dark hair behind her ear.
"We should go intae town today," he said abruptly.
Mhairi looked up, surprised. "Intae town?"
"Aye. The castle seamstress isnae here today. Ye need clothes that actually fit. And probably other things too, anythin' ye need, really. We can get it all sorted this mornin'." He kept his tone practical, unpressured. "Unless ye'd rather rest?"
"Nay, I..." Mhairi glanced down at her ill-fitting dress. "Aye. That would be... that would be helpful. Thank ye."
"We'll leave after breakfast, then. Take our time. Make a proper day of it."
Her mouth curved into a small smile. "A day of shoppin'. How domestic."
"Is that a problem?"
"Nay. It's just..." She trailed off, shaking her head. "It's normal. After everythin' that's happened, normal feels strange."
Alpin understood that.
"Well, get used tae it," he said gently. "Because normal is what ye're goin' tae get here. Fer as long as ye want it."
Mhairi's eyes met his, and something passed between them. Something warm and tentative and hopeful.
Then she smiled—a real smile, one that reached her grey eyes and made Alpin's chest feel too tight.
"I'd like that," she said softly. "Normal sounds nice."
The stable smelled of hay and horses and leather—familiar, comforting scents that always made Alpin feel grounded. He was checking the saddle on his own mount when Mhairi entered, still wearing that oversized dress but moving more confidently now.
"Which one should I take?" she asked, approaching the stalls.
"Any ye like. They're all well-trained." Alpin watched as she moved down the line, stopping to examine each horse carefully.
She chose a dappled grey mare with kind eyes and a gentle temperament. "This one," she said, stroking the mare's nose. "What's her name?"
"Sìth. It means 'peace' in the old tongue." Alpin moved to help her saddle the horse. "Good choice. She's steady on the road and daesnae spook easy."
As they worked together to prepare the horses, Alpin noticed Mhairi's hair fallin' loose around her shoulders. It was beautiful—thick and dark, catchin' the light from the stable doors—but it would be a tangled mess by the time they reached town.
"Wait," he said, just as she was about to mount. "Yer hair."
Mhairi touched it self-consciously. "What about it?"
"It'll get caught in the wind. Tangled. Here—" He gestured to a low bench near the stable wall. "Sit. I'll braid it fer ye."
She blinked at him. "Ye ken how tae braid hair?"
"Me maither used tae dae it fer me sister before rides. She taught me when I was young, said I might need tae ken someday." Alpin's throat tightened at the memory. "Turns out she was right."
Mhairi sat without another word, her back to him.
Alpin gathered her hair gently, dividing it into three sections. His hands were large and scarred—warrior's hands, more used to wieldingswords than weaving hair—but he worked carefully, slowly, the way his mother had taught him all those years ago.
His fingers brushed the nape of Mhairi's neck as he wove the strands together, and he felt her shiver slightly at the contact. Not from fear, fer he knew what fear looked like on her, but from something else. Something that made his own breath catch.
She tilted her head slightly, giving him better access, and the gesture felt impossibly trusting. Intimate. She was letting him touch her, care for her, in a moment that was quiet and gentle and achingly tender.
Alpin's chest tightened as he worked, his calloused fingers surprisingly deft as they plaited her dark hair. Each movement was deliberate, careful, as if he were handling something precious. Because he was.
When his knuckles grazed her skin again, Mhairi drew in a soft breath, and Alpin paused, waiting to see if she would pull away.
She didn't.
Instead, she seemed to lean into his touch, her shoulders relaxing, her breathing evening out. Like she felt safe there. With him.
The realization made something shift in Alpin's chest—something warm and protective and terrifyingly permanent.
Mhairi turned to look at him, and for a moment they were very close. Close enough that Alpin could see the silver flecks in her grey eyes. Close enough that he could smell the lavender from her borrowed clothes.
"I'm nae as strong as ye think," she whispered.
"Ye're stronger." He stood, putting distance between them before he did something foolish. "Come on. Town's waitin'."
The ride to town was pleasant—the weather clear, the road busy with travelers and merchants heading to market. Mhairi rode beside him, and Alpin found himself pointing out landmarks and telling her stories about his lands.
The town itself was bustling when they arrived. Market day brought people from all over the region, and the streets were packed with stalls selling everything from fresh bread to leather goods to livestock.
Alpin guided them to a dressmaker he knew well—a sharp-eyed woman named Morag who took one look at Mhairi's ill-fitting dress and made a sympathetic noise.
"Poor lass. Come on, let's get ye sorted properly."
Alpin waited outside while Mhairi tried on clothes, leaning against the shop wall and watching the crowd pass by. He was just considering whether to find something to eat when the shop door opened.
And Mhairi stepped out.
Alpin straightened so fast he nearly knocked over the person walking behind him.
The dress Morag had put her in was simple—deep blue wool that brought out the grey of her eyes, properly fitted through the bodice and waist, with sleeves that actually ended at her wrists. Her dark hair was still braided, a few loose strands framin' her face.
She looked...
"Christ," Alpin breathed.
Mhairi's cheeks flushed. "Is it... is it all right?"
"All right?" He couldn’t stop staring. "Lass, ye're... ye look..."
"Beautiful?" Morag supplied helpfully from the doorway, clearly enjoying his speechlessness.
"Aye," Alpin managed. "That."
Mhairi's flush deepened, but she was smiling. "I'll take it, then. And maybe a few others?"
"Take whatever ye want," Alpin said, still slightly dazed.
The dressmaker grinned and ushered Mhairi back inside. Alpin stayed where he was, forcing his heartbeat back to something resembling normality.
That was dangerous. He knew it was. Mhairi had been through hell—she didn’t need him making things complicated with... whatever that was. That pull he felt toward her.
But God help him, he couldn’t seem to stop.
When they finally left the dressmaker's shop—with promises that the rest of Mhairi's new clothes would be delivered to the castle within days—Alpin offered her his arm.
"Where tae now?" Mhairi asked, taking it without hesitation.
"Wherever ye like. Is there anything else ye need?"
They wandered through the market, stopping occasionally so Mhairi could examine wares. She was drawn to a stall selling ribbons, running her fingers over the colorful silk with obvious delight. Alpin bought her half a dozen without her asking.
Then she stopped.
Dead still in the middle of the street, staring at a merchant's cart piled high with dried herbs and medicinal supplies.
"What is it?" Alpin asked.
"Those herbs." Mhairi moved closer, her eyes wide. "That's yarrow, and comfrey, and... is that feverfew? I havenae seen such a good selection outside of..." She trailed off.
"Outside of what?"
She glanced at him, suddenly shy. "The healer's chambers. At me faither's keep. I used tae sneak in when I was a child, watch him work. He'd let me help sometimes, when no one else was around."
Alpin's interest sharpened. "Ye ken healin'?"
"A little. Naethin' formal, accordin’ tae me faither it wasnae appropriate fer a laird's daughter tae learn such things.
But I loved it. The way herbs could help people, the way a skilled healer could ease sufferin'.
.." She touched a bundle of dried lavender gently.
"I always wished I could learn properly. "
An idea formed in Alpin's mind. A way to give her something she needed, somethin' that was hers alone.
"Ye can," he said.
Mhairi looked at him, confused. "Can what?"
"Learn. Properly." Alpin turned to face her fully. "We have a healer at the castle. Donnach. He's been askin' fer an apprentice fer some time now, but nay one's shown real interest. If ye want tae learn, I'll arrange it."
Her eyes went wide. "Ye'd... ye'd dae that?"
"Why wouldnae I?"
"Because I'm..." She gestured vaguely at herself. "I'm nae supposed tae. Ladies dinnae—"
"Ladies dae whatever the hell they want in me castle," Alpin interrupted firmly. "If ye want tae learn healin', ye'll learn healin'. If ye want tae learn swordplay, ye'll learn that too. Whatever makes ye happy, whatever gives ye purpose, that's what matters."
Mhairi stared at him like he'd just offered her the world. Which, in a way, he supposed he had.
"I..." Her voice cracked. "Thank ye. I dinnae ken what tae say."
"Say ye'll dae it. Say ye'll let yerself have this one thing that's just fer ye."
"Aye." The word came out fierce, determined. "Aye, I will."
They stood there in the middle of the busy market, people flowin' around them like water around stones. And Alpin realized he'd dae anything, absolutely anything, to see that light in her eyes again.
"There's something else," Mhairi said quietly. "Somethin' I've been wantin' tae ask about."
"What?"
"Me sister. Isobel." Her hand tightened on his arm. "Ye said ye'd look into what Graham claimed. About her bein' sold too."
Alpin's jaw tightened. "I've already sent men tae investigate. Quietly. If she's in danger, we'll find her."
"And if she's already been..." Mhairi couldn’t finish.
"Then we'll get her back." Alpin covered her hand with his. "I promise ye, Mhairi. If yer sister needs help, she'll have it. Whatever it takes."
They finished their shopping and headed back toward where they'd left the horses. As they walked, Mhairi's hand still tucked into the crook of his arm, Alpin found himself thinking about the future.
About what it might look like with her in it.
It was dangerous thinking. Premature. She'd been there barely a day. She was still healing from trauma he couldn’t begin to fully understand.
But he couldn’t help it.