Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“Is that the loch?”
The sound of rushing water grew louder as they approached the river.
Mhairi had been there before—once, briefly, when Alpin had first shown her around the castle grounds.
But that had been summer, when the water was low and sluggish. Now, swollen with autumn rains, the river moved fast and purposeful, churning around the stepping stones that provided the only crossing for miles.
"Careful," Alpin said, already moving ahead. "The stones get slippery this time of year."
He crossed with the easy confidence of someone who'd done it a thousand times, his boots finding purchase on stones that looked treacherously smooth. When he reached the other side, he turned back and extended his hand.
"Come on. I've got ye."
Mhaira eyed the stepping stones dubiously. The first few looked manageable—large, flat, stable. But the ones in the middle were smaller, rounded, with water rushing over their surfaces.
"Maybe we should find another way across," she suggested.
"This is the only crossin’ fer two miles in either direction. Unless ye want tae walk that far out of our way?"
"Nay, but…"
"Just trust me. Take it slow."
Mhairi drew a breath and stepped onto the first stone.
It was solid beneath her boot, exactly as it had looked. She stepped to the second stone, then the third, gaining confidence with each successful crossing.
The fourth stone was where things went wrong.
It looked stable enough, a wide, flat rock barely covered by water. But the moment Mhairi's weight settled on it, her boot slipped on algae she hadn't seen.
Her arms windmilled as she tried to catch her balance, and her foot plunged into the river with a splash that sent cold water spraying up onto Alpin's legs.
"Mhairi!"
His hand shot out, grabbing her arm and hauling her against him before she could topple completely into the river.
She crashed into his chest with enough force to make them both stagger, but he held firm, one arm wrapped around her waist while the other gripped the stone outcropping beside them for balance.
"I've got ye," he said, his voice steady despite the way they were both breathing hard. "Ye're all right."
"I'm sorry, I didnae see—the stone was slippery and I dinnae see it."
"I told ye to be careful."
"I was being careful!"
"Clearly nae careful enough." But there was amusement in his eyes now, and something else, mischief, maybe. "Though I suppose I should thank ye."
"Thank me? Fer what?"
"Fer giving me an excuse tae dae this."
He released his grip on the outcropping and deliberately swept his hand through the water, sending a spray directly at her face.
Mhairi gasped, cold water hitting her cheeks and dripping down her neck. "Ye didnae!"
"I did." He was grinning now, that rare, full smile that made him look years younger. "Consider it payment fer soakin’ me boots."
"Payment? I'll show ye payment!" Mhairi bent down and scooped water with both hands, flinging it at him with as much force as she could manage.
It caught him square in the chest, soaking through his shirt. His eyes widened in mock outrage.
"Oh, that's how it is?"
"Aye, that's how it is!"
What followed was chaos.
Alpin splashed her again, and she retaliated immediately, both laughing as they tried to drench each other while maintaining their precarious balance on the stones.
Water flew everywhere, in their faces, down their clothes, soaking their hair.
"Truce!" Mhairi finally gasped, her sides aching from laughter. "Truce, I surrender!"
"Dae ye?" Alpin took a threatening step toward her, water dripping from his hair. "Because it sounded like ye were just sayin' that tae get me guard down."
"I wouldnae—" She splashed him one more time, a small token splash that barely counted. "—dae that."
He lunged for her.
Mhairi shrieked and tried to dodge, nearly slipping again in the process. Alpin caught her around the waist, pulling her close, both of them soaked to the skin and grinning like fools.
"Ye're terrible," she said, trying to sound stern despite the laughter still bubbling in her chest.
"So ye keep telling me." He tucked a wet strand of hair behind her ear. "Come on. Let's get ye across before ye actually dae fall in."
This time, he kept hold of her hand as they navigated the remaining stones. Mhairi moved more carefully, testing each step before committing her weight, and Alpin stayed close enough to steady her when needed.
When they finally reached the far bank, they both stood there dripping, surveying the damage.
"I'm completely soaked," Mhairi observed.
"Aye. Me too."
"This is yer fault."
"Is it?" His eyes were dancing. "I seem tae recall ye startin’ the whole water fight."
"Only because ye splashed me first!"
"Only because ye soaked me boots!"
They looked at each other for a moment, then burst out laughing again. Mhairi's boots squelched with every step as they began walking back toward the castle, water dripping from their clothes to leave a trail behind them.
"We're going tae track water all through the castle," she said.
"Aye. The servants will love that."
"We should probably use the kitchen entrance. Less chance of runnin’ intae people."
"Good thinkin’." Alpin glanced at her, his expression softening. "Though I have tae say, I quite like ye like this."
"What, soakin’ wet and probably about tae catch a cold?"
"Happy. Laughin’. Nae worried about Ashcombe or Graham or anything else, even if just fer a few minutes." He reached over and squeezed her hand. "Ye should laugh more often. It suits ye."
Warmth spread through Mhairi's chest. "I laugh more now than I have in months. Maybe years."
"Good. That's how it should be."
They made their way back to the castle, their wet clothes gradually growing clammy and uncomfortable in the cooling air. But Mhairi didn't mind. The memory of Alpin's laughter, of the water fight, of the simple joy of being silly together—it was worth a little discomfort.
By the time they reached the kitchen entrance, they'd mostly stopped dripping, though they were still obviously soaked.
Dinner was a quiet affair, just the two of them again in the small dining room.
They talked about inconsequential things—the upcoming arrival of Peadar and Kenina, preparations that needed to be made, supplies that needed to be checked.
But beneath the casual conversation, Mhairi was acutely aware of the way Alpin's eyes kept drifting to her mouth. The way his hand would brush hers when passing dishes. The way the air between them seemed charged with possibility.
When the meal finally ended and the servants cleared the dishes, Alpin leaned back in his chair and studied her.
"I have time taenight," he said. "If ye wanted tae practice those bindings."
Mhairi's pulse jumped. "Now?"
"Unless ye're too tired?"
She wasn't tired.
In fact, she was the opposite of tired, every nerve in her body suddenly alert and aware.
"Nay. I'd like that." She tried to keep her voice casual. "Practice would be good."
"Me chamber, then. I have better light there, and more supplies."
They walked through the corridors side by side, close enough that their hands occasionally brushed. When they reached Alpin's door, he pushed it open and gestured for her to enter first.
The room was warm from the fire burning in the hearth. Someone had been in to tidy, the bed was made with fresh linens, fresh candles burned on every surface, casting a golden glow.
Alpin closed the door behind them.
The soft click of the latch seemed very loud in the quiet room.
"Sit," Mhairi said, trying to focus on the task at hand rather than the sudden awareness of being alone with him in his bedchamber. "I'll get the supplies."
He settled into the chair by the fire while she gathered cloth strips and the jar of salve from the cabinet. When she returned, kneeling beside his chair, he'd already rolled up his sleeve to expose his forearm.
"Start with something simple," he suggested. "A basic wrap, like ye were practicin' this mornin'."
Mhairi picked up a strip of cloth, trying to remember everything Donnach had taught her. She began wrapping carefully, concentrating on keeping the pressure even, the angle consistent.
Alpin watched her work, his gaze intense. She adjusted the tension slightly. "How daes this feel?"
"Good. Even pressure, nae too tight."
She continued wrapping, her fingers brushing against his skin with each pass of the cloth.
His forearm was solid beneath her hands, marked with small scars that told stories of old injuries. She found herself tracing one with her thumb without meaning to.
"What's this from?" she asked.
"Trainin' accident when I was sixteen. Took a practice blade across the arm." His voice had gone deeper. "Bled like mad but wasnae serious."
"And this one?" Her fingers moved to another scar.
"Nae sure. I have so many I cannae remember where they all came from."
Mhairi finished the wrap and tied it off, then immediately began unwrapping it to try again. But this time, as she worked, she let her fingers linger. Let herself explore the landscape of his arm—the scars, the muscle, the warmth of his skin.
"Mhairi." Her name came out rough.
She looked up and found his eyes dark with desire. "Aye?"
"The bindings are fine. Ye can stop now."
"What if I dinnae want tae stop?"
His breath caught. "What dae ye want?"
His hands settled on her waist, slow and deliberate, his thumbs brushing the dip just above her hips.
The touch was light, but it burned through the fabric of her dress, sending a shiver down her spine.
Mhairi exhaled sharply, her pulse quickening as his fingers tightened, pulling her back against him. A flush spread across her chest, her nipples tightening beneath her chemise.
"Ye're tense," Alpin murmured, his lips grazing the shell of her ear. His voice was low, rough, the burr of his accent wrapping around the words like a caress. "Dinnae be."
Mhairi swallowed, her throat dry.
"I'm nae," she lied, but her body betrayed her, leaning into him despite herself.