Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
"The messenger looked half-dead when he arrived, me laird."
Alpin looked up from the parchment in his hands to find Callum standing in the doorway of his office. "Aye, he rode hard through the night by the look of him. From Munro lands."
"Munro?" Callum's expression darkened. "That cannae be good news."
"It's nae." Alpin stared at the sealed letter, the Munro crest pressed into the wax. "I need tae find Mhairi. She should hear this from me."
"She's in the healin' chambers with Donnach. Saw her head that way about an hour ago."
"Good. Keep everyone away from me solar fer a while, will ye? And tell the servants to light a fire."
Callum nodded, his eyes flicking to the letter. "Whatever it says, we'll handle it."
"Aye. We will."
Alpin found Mhairi exactly where Callum had said, carefully measuring dried lavender into small cloth pouches.
Her hands were steady, her movements practiced, and for a moment he just watched her. She looked peaceful here, absorbed in her work, far removed from the chaos her father had created.
He hated to shatter that peace.
"Mhairi."
She looked up, her smile fading the moment she saw his face. "What's wrong?"
"A letter arrived this mornin’. From yer faither." He held up the sealed parchment. "We should read it somewhere private."
All the color drained from her face. The lavender spilled from her suddenly nerveless fingers. "Oh."
"Come with me."
She followed him through the corridors without speaking, her arms wrapped tight around herself. Warmth greeted them as they entered the solar.
"Sit," he said gently, guiding her to a chair near the hearth. "By the fire. Ye're shakin’."
"I'm fine." But she sank into the chair gratefully.
Alpin knelt before the fire, breaking the seal on the letter. The wax cracked sharply in the quiet room. He unfolded the parchment, scanning the contents first before reading aloud.
The handwriting was sharp, angry slashes across the page.
"What daes it say?" Mhairi's voice was barely above a whisper.
Alpin drew a breath and read:
"MacDougal—
Ye have taken what is nae yers tae take.
Me daughter was sold in accordance with legal contract tae settle debts ye ken naething about.
The Duke of Ravenscar has written tae me demanding her return, stating that Laird Graham refuses tae refund his payment unless the girl is returned tae complete the transaction.
Ye had nay right tae interfere in this matter. Ye have nay legal claim ae the girl, and yer actions constitute theft of purchased property. Return her tae Ravenscar immediately, or I will be forced tae seek recompense through whatever means necessary.
This is a family matter, MacDougal. Ye would dae well tae remember that and nae interfere with business that daesnae concern ye. Send the girl back tae her rightful owner and cease all contact with Clan Munro.
I will nae write again on this subject.
—Laird Angus Munro"
The silence that followed was absolute. Even the fire seemed to quiet, as if holding its breath.
Mhairi sat frozen, her face a careful blank. Then, slowly, she extended her hand. "May I see it?"
Alpin passed her the letter. She read it herself, her eyes moving across each word with painful deliberation. Her hands didn't shake. Her expression didn't change.
When she finished, she stood and walked to the fireplace.
She held the letter directly in the flames, watching as the edges blackened and curled. The paper caught quickly, bright orange eating through her father's words until nothing remained but ash.
"Mhairi—"
"I dinnae want tae speak about it." Her voice was flat, empty of all emotion. "Please. I just... I dinnae want tae speak about it."
Alpin rose, moving to stand beside her. He didn't touch her, sensing she needed space. "All right. We dinnae have tae talk about it now. But there's somethin’ ye should ken."
She turned to look at him, her grey eyes dull. "What?"
"I've already started gatherin’ information about yer sister. Callum's been makin’ quiet inquiries, nae alertin’ Graham or drawin’ attention. We're tryin’ tae find out where Isobel is, whether she's been sold yet, whether she's safe."
Something flickered in Mhairi's expression—a crack in the careful emptiness. "Ye have?"
"Aye. And once we find her, once we ken the situation, we'll take action. Whatever it takes tae help her."
"And if she's already been sold?" The words came out choked. "If she's already gone through what I went through, or worse—"
"Then we'll get her back." Alpin reached out slowly, giving her time to pull away. When she didn't, he took her hand in his. "I promise ye, Mhairi. We'll find her, and we'll help her. Ye have me word."
Her fingers tightened around his, almost painfully. "Ye shouldnae make promises like that. Nae fer me."
"Why nae?"
"Because I'm too much trouble!" The words exploded out of her, breaking through the careful control. "Look at what's happenin’—Ashcombe camped at yer borders, me faither sendin’ threatenin’ letters, Graham demandin’ his money.
All of this is because of me. All because ye decided tae help someone who wasnae worth the risk! "
"Dinnae say that.”
"It's true!" She yanked her hand away, backing up until she hit the wall. "Ye should send me away, Alpin. Find somewhere else fer me tae go, somewhere that willnae bring all this danger tae yer clan. Tae ye."
"I'm nae sendin’ ye anywhere." Alpin kept his voice steady, even as frustration and something deeper—fear—clawed at his chest. "And ye are worth every risk."
Mhairi was staring at him, her chest heaving, tears shining in her eyes but not falling.
"I ken," Alpin continued, his voice dropping lower, "that ye're the strongest person I've ever met. And I ken that losin’ ye would break something in me that I dinnae think could be fixed."
"Alpin..." Her voice was barely audible.
"Ye dinnae have tae say anythin’. I just need ye tae understand that ye're nae leavin’.
Nae unless ye choose tae go. And even then, I'll make sure that ye have somewhere safe tae go, coin in yer purse, protection if ye need it.
But I willnae send ye away because of yer faither's threats or Ashcombe's demands. "
She was quiet for a long moment, her hands pressed flat against the wall behind her. "Why?" The question came out broken. "Why dae ye care so much?"
Because I'm really attracted tae ye… and I have feelin’s fer ye.
But it was too soon, too much say when she was still so fragile.
"Because it's the right thing tae dae," he said instead. "And because I gave ye me word that ye'd be safe here. I dinnae break me word."
Mhairi closed her eyes, a single tear finally escaping and tracking down her cheek. "I think... I think I need some time alone. Tae think about all of this."
It wasn't what Alpin wanted to hear, but he understood. "Aye. Of course." He stepped back, givin’ her space. "But Mhairi? The dance is taenight. Please still come."
"I dinnae think I can."
"Please." He waited until she opened her eyes and looked at him. "Let people see that ye're nae ashamed tae be here. That ye're nae hidin’ from what yer faither said. Let them see that ye belong here, with us. With me."
She searched his face for something—reassurance, maybe, or permission. "Ye really want me there?"
"More than anything."
"All right." The words came out barely above a whisper. "I'll come."
"Thank ye."
She left without another word, and Alpin stood alone in his solar, staring at the ashes of Angus Munro's letter in the fireplace.
The man had just shown exactly what kind of father he was—the kind who valued coin and contracts over his own daughter's life. The kind who called his child "property" and demanded her return to a man who'd bought her like cattle.
And he'd shown Alpin that there would be no help, no alliance, no rescue coming from Clan Munro.
Which meant Mhairi truly had no one except for him anymore.
Evening arrived with the smell of roasted meat and fresh bread wafting through the castle.
The great hall had been transformed for the monthly gathering—tables pushed to the walls, candles and torches lit until the space glowed warm and welcoming, musicians tuning their instruments in the corner.
Alpin stood near the high table, dressed in his finest plaid and cleanest shirt. Around him, clan members were already gathering—warriors and farmers, craftsmen and servants, all coming together for the tradition that bound them as one people.
Callum appeared at his elbow, similarly dressed for the occasion. "Quite the turnout taenight."
"Aye. Word must have spread about our guest."
"Everyone's curious about the lass ye brought back from the south." Fergus joined them, accepting a cup of ale from a passing servant. "Half the clan's never seen her yet. They want tae get a proper look."
"Then they'll treat her with respect when they dae." Alpin's voice carried an edge of warning.
"Of course, me laird." Fergus grinned. "Though I doubt ye'll need tae worry. The lasses might be a tad jealous, but the lads are all impressed ye managed tae steal someone from under an English duke's nose."
"I didnae steal her. I freed her."
"Semantics." Callum took a long drink of his ale. "So, what's yer plan with Munro and Ashcombe? I imagine that letter this mornin’ wasnae exactly friendly."
Alpin's jaw tightened. "Me plan is tae nae dae what Munro ordered. I'm nae sendin’ Mhairi back tae Ashcombe, I dinnae care what contracts they claim exist." He went on to explain the contents of the letter.
"But what will ye dae?" Fergus pressed. "If Ashcombe escalates? If he moves from campin’ at the border tae actual action?"
"Then I'll give him what he wants, within reason." Alpin kept his voice low, aware of the crowd growing around them. "If it's money he's after, if payin’ him off would make him leave and forget about Mhairi, then aye, I'll pay. Our coffers can handle the loss."
"And if it's nae about money?" Callum asked quietly. "If he wants the lass herself, claims his legal right tae her?"
"Then he'd better be prepared fer a fight." Alpin's voice went hard as steel. "Because I'll nae hand her over. Nae tae him, nae tae Graham, nae tae anyone. She stays here, under me protection, fer as long as she wants. And if Ashcombe wants tae challenge that..." He let the threat hang unfinished.
Fergus whistled low. "Ye're riskin’ war with an English duke over a lass."
"She's nae just 'one lass,'" Alpin started, his hands clenching at his sides. "She's—"
The hall went quiet.
Alpin's words died as every head turned toward the entrance. Even the musicians stopped mid-tune, their instruments falling silent.
And there, framed in the doorway, stood Mhairi.
She wore a dress Alpin had never seen before—deep green wool that made her grey eyes look like silver, fitted perfectly to her slender frame with delicate embroidery at the neckline and sleeves that must have taken hours of work.
Her dark hair was braided and pinned in an elaborate style, with loose tendrils framing her face. And she stood with her chin lifted, shoulders back, meeting the stares of the entire clan with quiet dignity.
She looked like a queen.
Alpin's breath caught in his chest. Beside him, he heard Callum's sharp intake of air.
"Christ," Fergus breathed. "That's quite an entrance."
For a long moment, it seemed, no one moved. The entire hall was frozen, watching the lass who'd appeared in their castle a little over a week ago, broken and terrified, now standing before them transformed.
Then Mhairi's eyes found Alpin's across the crowded room.
She smiled, small and uncertain, but real.
The hall erupted back into noise and movement around them, but Alpin barely noticed.
All he could see was her.