Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
The castle was bathed in evening light when they returned, the sun painting everything gold and amber. Mhairi's new packages had been sent ahead on a cart, and she could already see servants carrying them inside as she and Alpin dismounted.
"Come on," Alpin said, handing his reins to a stable lad. "There's someone I want ye tae meet before supper."
Mhairi followed him through corridors she was starting to recognize—past the great hall, down a narrower passage that smelled faintly of herbs and something sharper. Medicinal.
They stopped at a heavy wooden door. Alpin knocked twice before pushing it open.
The chamber beyond was unlike anything Mhairi had seen in the castle.
Every surface was covered with supplies—jars of dried herbs, bottles of tinctures, rolls of clean linen for bandages.
A fire burned low in the hearth and suspended above it was a pot that bubbled gently, filling the room with a scent Mhairi recognized immediately.
Comfrey root. For wounds and broken bones.
An older man stood at a worktable near the window, his grey hair tied back from his face as he ground something in a mortar. He looked up when they entered, his weathered face breaking into a smile.
"Alpin. I heard ye were back." His eyes shifted to Mhairi, curious but kind. "And ye've brought a guest."
"Donnach, this is Mhairi Munro." Alpin's hand settled briefly at the small of her back—a gentle, reassuring touch. "Mhairi, this is Donnach. He's been the castle healer fer... how long now?"
"Thirty-two years, come autumn." Donnach set down his mortar and wiped his hands on his apron. "Though some days it feels like twice that." His gaze sharpened as he studied Mhairi. "Munro, ye said? Long way from yer faither's lands."
"Aye." Mhairi's throat tightened, but she forced herself to meet his eyes. "It's... complicated."
"Most things worth tellin' are." Donnach's expression softened. "Well, any friend of our laird's is welcome in me healin' chambers. What can I dae fer ye?"
Alpin spoke before Mhairi could. "She's nae just visitin'. She wants tae learn. Tae apprentice, if ye'll have her."
Donnach's eyebrows shot up. "An apprentice? Truly?"
"I..." Mhairi felt heat rise to her cheeks.
"I ken it's unusual. A laird's daughter learnin' healin'.
But I've always loved it—the herbs, the remedies, the way a skilled healer can ease sufferin'.
I used tae sneak into our healer's chambers as a child, and he'd teach me what he could when nay one else was watchin'.
But it was never proper. Never allowed."
"And now?" Donnach asked gently.
"Now I'm here." Mhairi's chin lifted slightly. "And Alpin says in his castle, I can learn whatever I want."
"That he did." Donnach looked between them, something knowing flickering in his expression.
Then he smiled. "Well then. If ye're serious about learning, I'm serious about teaching.
But I'll warn ye now, it's nae glamorous work.
Long hours, difficult cases, and sometimes we lose people despite our best efforts. "
"I understand," Mhairi said firmly.
"Dae ye?" Donnach moved closer, his gaze assessing. "Can ye handle seein' blood? Bone? Wounds that would make most ladies faint?"
"I've seen worse things than blood recently," Mhairi said quietly. "I think I can manage."
Somethin' shifted in Donnach's expression—respect, maybe, or recognition. "Aye. I believe ye can." He gestured to his worktable. "Come here. Let me see yer hands."
Mhairi glanced at Alpin, who nodded encouragingly, then crossed to where Donnach waited. The healer took her hands in his, gnarled and age-spotted but still steady, and turned them over, examing her palms and fingers.
"Good," he murmured. "Strong hands. Steady. And these..." He touched the bandages on her wrists gently. "Recent?"
"Aye."
"Rope burns?"
Mhairi nodded, unable to speak past the tightness in her throat.
Donnach's expression darkened briefly, but he only said, "Well, ye ken firsthand what it's like tae be hurt, then.
That's important fer a healer, understandin' pain.
Nae just treatin' it but truly understandin' it.
" He released her hands. "Ye can start tomorrow.
Dawn. We'll begin with herbs—learnin' tae identify them, how tae prepare them, what they're used fer.
After that, if ye prove ye're serious, we'll move on tae more advanced work. "
"Dawn," Mhairi repeated, her heart soarin'. "I'll be here."
"Good lass." Donnach's smile was warm now. "And Mhairi? Thank ye. Fer wantin' to learn. It's good tae see someone who actually cares."
"Thank ye," Mhairi whispered. "Fer givin' me this chance."
As they left the healin' chambers, Mhairi felt lighter than she had in days. Maybe weeks. Like something that had been locked tight inside her was finally beginning to open.
"Ye're smilin'," Alpin observed as they walked.
"Am I?" Mhairi touched her face, surprised to find he was right. "I suppose I am."
"It suits ye."
Before she could respond, Alpin stopped in front of a door she didn’t recognize. They were on a different floor now—quieter, with fewer people passing through.
"This is yer new chamber," he said, pulling something from his pocket. "The one I promised ye last night."
He held out a key.
Mhairi took it with shaking hands. The metal was cool and solid against her palm, proof that she had control. That she could lock the world out when she needed to.
"The room's a bit smaller than the first one," Alpin was saying, "but it's quiet. Private. And the lock is solid, I checked it meself."
"Thank ye," Mhairi whispered, closing her fingers around the key. "Fer this. Fer... fer everythin'."
"Ye have naethin' tae fear here, Mhairi." Alpin's voice was gentle but firm. "Nae in this castle. Nae from anyone. I've made that clear tae every person who lives within these walls. Ye're under me protection, and that means somethin'."
"I'm startin' tae believe that," she admitted. "That I might actually be safe here."
"Good." He reached past her to open the door, pushing it wide so she could see inside.
The chamber was indeed smaller than her first one, but it felt warmer somehow. Cozier. There was a bed with thick blankets, a wardrobe, a writing desk, and a chair near the hearth where a fire had already been lit. Her packages from town were stacked neatly on the bed.
"I'll let ye settle in," Alpin said, already stepping back. "Supper's in an hour if ye're hungry. Or I can have somethin' sent up if ye'd rather eat alone."
Mhairi considered. Part of her wanted solitude, wanted to curl up in this safe space and just... breathe. But another part, a stronger part, wanted company. Wanted to keep feeling that new, fragile sense of normalcy.
"I'll come tae supper," she decided.
Alpin's smile was warm. "I'll see ye then."
He left, his footsteps fading down the corridor. Mhairi stood in the doorway for a moment longer, then stepped inside.
And closed the door.
The lock clicked into place with a satisfying sound—solid, secure, final.
Mhairi leaned against the door, closing her eyes and just... feeling it. The weight of the wood at her back. The key still clutched in her hand. The knowledge that she could keep the world out if she needed to.
For the first time since the auction, she felt like she could breathe properly.
She was safe.
And maybe, she was going to be all right.
Alpin was halfway through reviewing supply reports when a knock came at his office door.
"Enter."
Callum stepped inside, closing the door behind him. He waited until Alpin gestured to the chair across from him before sitting.
"Me laird," Callum said, though his tone was warm with familiarity. "I hope I'm nae interruptin'."
"Ye are, but I could use the distraction." Alpin set down his quill and leaned back. "What's on yer mind?"
Callum's mouth quirked. "I think ye ken what's on me mind. Or rather, who."
"Mhairi."
"Aye. Mhairi Munro." Callum's expression turned more serious. "Ye've clearly taken an interest, me laird. As yer friend—and as someone who's served this clan alongside ye fer years—I feel I should speak plainly. May I?"
"When have I ever stopped ye?" But Alpin's tone was lighter, acknowledging the respect Callum was showing even as they spoke as friends.
Callum's expression was thoughtful rather than teasing. "I've served ye long enough tae see when somethin's... different. And this is different."
Alpin was quiet for a moment. "Aye. It is."
"She's under yer protection, I ken that. But it seems like more than duty." Callum chose his words carefully, respectful. "I saw how ye were with her this mornin'. The care ye took. It's nae just about keepin' her safe, is it?"
"Nay," Alpin admitted quietly. "It's nae."
Callum nodded slowly. "I thought as much. And as someone who's fought beside ye fer years, who's seen ye carry the weight of this clan... I'm glad, me laird. Ye deserve somethin' good. Someone who sees ye as more than just the laird."
"It's complicated," Alpin said, rubbing his face. "Her situation. Ashcombe. Her clan."
"Most things worth havin' are." Callum's voice was gentle now. "But if anyone can navigate complicated, it's ye. Just... be careful with yer heart. That's all I'm sayin'. The lass has been through hell, and ye care deeply. That combination can be dangerous."
"I ken."
Callum paused at the door. "Fer what it's worth? I like her. She's got fire. Spirit. She'll be good fer ye, if ye let her."
“Thank ye, me friend. One thing.”
“Yes, me laird.”
“I need ye tae look intae somethin' fer me. Discreetly. Mhairi's sister, Isobel Munro. Age sixteen. According tae Graham, she was sold to him along with Mhairi, though she's nae old enough yet tae bring in proper coin at auction.”
“I’ll start from nearby villages.”
“Good. Find out if it's true. Find out where she is. And if she's in danger, find out how we can get her out. This stays between us fer now. I dinnae want to give Mhairi false hope.”
“Yes, me laird.”
After he left, Alpin sat alone with his thoughts.
He should have been focusing on Graham. On the auction network. On finding those missing lasses and bringing them home.
Instead, all he could think about was the way Mhairi's face had lit up when he'd told her she could learn healing. The way she'd looked in that blue dress. The way she'd trusted him enough to close her eyes while he braided her hair.
He was in trouble.
Deep, complicated, potentially heart-breaking trouble.
But as he returned to his reports, Alpin found he did not care.
Because if there was even a chance, even the smallest possibility, that Mhairi might someday look at him the way he was starting to look at her...
Well.
That would be worth any amount of trouble.
He returned to his other work, trying not to think about her grey eyes her dark hair, and that smile that made his chest feel too tight.
Trying.
And failing spectacularly.