Chapter 27
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
"More porridge, me lady?"
Mhairi shook her head at the servant, her stomach too knotted to accept food.
Across the table, Alpin was deep in conversation with Peadar about patrol schedules, while Kenina examined a map with the focused intensity of someone planning a campaign.
They'd been at this for days now, planning, strategizing, sending messages to potential allies. And through it all, Mhairi had been waiting for news about Isobel. Waiting for someone to tell her whether her sister was safe or suffering or worse.
The breakfast hall door opened, and Callum entered carrying a folded parchment. His expression was carefully neutral, which immediately set Mhairi's nerves on edge.
"Me laird," Callum said, approaching the table. "I wanted tae give ye an update. About the task ye set me."
Alpin's attention sharpened immediately. "The task regardin’ the lass?"
"Aye." Callum's eyes flicked to Mhairi briefly. "Perhaps we should speak privately?"
"Nay." Alpin's voice was firm. "Whatever ye have tae say concerns everyone here. Speak freely."
Callum hesitated, then nodded. He unfolded the parchment and began reading aloud.
"We unfortunately still have nay trace of the lass. Our men have been lookin’ all over but have found nay trace."
Mhairi's hands clenched together in her lap so tightly her knuckles went white.
She forced herself to remain still, to keep breathing, to not let the panic clawing at her chest show on her face.
"So, she perhaps she has already been sold," Kenina said quietly.
"Unlikely, we probably would have heard something, but we dinnae ken where she is." Callum folded the parchment. "I'm sorry, me lady. I wish I had better news."
"Thank ye," Mhairi managed, her voice surprisingly steady.
The table fell silent. Mhairi could feel everyone's eyes on her, pitying, concerned, sympathetic. It made her skin crawl.
"If there's naethin’ else," Kenina said after a moment, "Peadar and I should review those supply lists fer the Fraser warriors."
"Aye." Peadar stood, gathering papers. "We'll be in the solar if ye need us."
They left quickly, taking Callum with them. Mhairi suspected they were giving her and Alpin privacy, and she was grateful despite the emptiness their departure left behind.
Alpin rose from his seat and moved to stand beside her chair. His hand settled on her shoulder, warm and solid.
"We'll find her," he said quietly. "This daesnae change that. We just need tae get the records from Graham's holdin’."
"And how dae we dae that? Storm his castle? Start a war?" Mhairi's voice cracked slightly. "She could be anywhere by now, Alpin. Anywhere. We cannae be sure she wasnae sold tae someone in England or the Lowlands or even the Highlands."
"Hey." He knelt beside her chair, bringing himself to eye level. "Look at me."
She did, blinking hard against the tears threatening to fall.
"We will find her," he repeated, his voice fierce with certainty. "I dinnae care how long it takes or what we have tae dae. We'll get those records, we'll track her down wherever she is, and we'll bring her home. I promise ye that."
"Ye cannae promise that so easily."
"I can and I am." His hand moved from her shoulder to cup her cheek. "But right now, ye need tae let yerself feel this. Ye've been holdin’ it together so well, being so strong, but ye're allowed tae be afraid. Ye're allowed tae grieve."
The tears came then, hot and sudden. Mhairi tried to hold them back, but Alpin pulled her forward into his arms and the dam broke completely.
She sobbed against his shoulder while he held her, one hand stroking her hair, murmuring reassurances she couldn't quite hear over her own crying.
All the fear and guilt and helplessness she'd been suppressing poured out in great heaving waves.
When the worst of it finally passed, Mhairi pulled back, wiping at her eyes with shaking hands.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didnae mean tae fall apart like that."
"Ye have nothing tae apologize fer." Alpin stood, then held out his hand. "Come with me. I ken somewhere quiet where ye can rest."
She let him guide her from the breakfast hall, through corridors she was beginning to know by heart, until they reached a heavy wooden door she'd never opened before.
"The library," Alpin explained, pushing it open. "It's one of the quietest places in the castle. Almost nay one comes here except me."
The room beyond was smaller than she'd expected, lined floor to ceiling with books and scrolls. A large window let in morning light, and several comfortable chairs were arranged near a fireplace that wasn't currently lit.
"Sit," Alpin said, guiding her to the most cushioned chair. "Let me find something tae read tae ye."
"Ye dinnae have tae. I’m fine now."
"I want tae." He was already scanning the shelves, his fingers trailing along leather spines. "When me maither and sister died, I couldnae sleep fer weeks. Every time I closed me eyes, I saw their faces. I used tae read old stories, histories, anything tae help quiet me mind."
He pulled a book from the shelf and settled into the chair beside hers, close enough that their arms touched when she leaned toward him.
"What is it?" she asked.
"Highland folklore. Stories about kelpies and selkies and ancient warriors." He opened the book to a random page. "Naething too serious. Just something tae focus on that isnae grief."
He began reading, his voice low and soothing.
Mhairi found herself leaning more heavily against him, her head coming to rest on his shoulder. He adjusted his position to make her more comfortable, one arm coming around her shoulders.
The stories washed over her. Tales of magical creatures and heroic deeds and love that transcended death. Alpin's voice never wavered, steady and calm, occasionally pausing to turn a page or adjust the blanket he'd pulled over her legs at some point.
Time became fluid. Mhairi was aware of the sunlight moving across the floor, of Alpin's warmth beside her, of the gradual easing of the tight knot in her chest. But the specifics blurred together until she wasn't sure if minutes or hours had passed.
At some point, exhaustion claimed her. Her eyes grew heavy, her breathing deep and even. She felt Alpin shift slightly, heard the soft sound of the book closing, but she was too far gone to fully wake.
When she finally stirred again, the sunlight had changed, no longer morning brightness but the softer glow of afternoon. Her head was still on Alpin's shoulder, and his arm was still around her, though he'd set the book aside.
"How long did I sleep?" she murmured.
"A few hours." His voice was warm with affection. "Ye needed it."
Mhairi lifted her head to look at him properly. "Ye stayed here the whole time? Just holdin’ me?"
"Aye."
"Why?"
"Because ye needed someone tae hold ye. And because I wanted tae be that someone." He reached up to brush a strand of hair from her face, his fingers lingering against her cheek. "Besides, I had nowhere more important to be."
Something in Mhairi's chest cracked open at that. The simple acceptance, the care, the willingness to just be with her in her grief without trying to fix it or minimize it or rush her through it.
"Alpin," she whispered.
"Aye?"
"I dinnae ken how I would get through this without ye.Ye understand me."
His thumb stroked her cheekbone. "I cannae promise ye everything will be fine. I cannae promise we'll find yer sister quickly or that she'll be unharmed when we dae, but I can promise ye willnae face any of it alone."
Mhairi's eyes filled with tears again, but these were different, gentler, tinged with something that felt almost like hope.
"I dinnae ken what I did tae deserve ye," she said.
"Ye survived." He leaned in slowly and pressed his forehead to hers. "Ye're remarkable, Mhairi Munro. And I'm honored that ye trust me enough tae let me see ye like this."
The book slid forgotten to the floor as Mhairi shifted in her chair, turning more fully toward him. Their faces were so close she could feel his breath against her lips.
The air was thick with the scent of old wood and the faint metallic tang of ink, a quiet, scholarly perfume that did nothing to mask the heat building between them.
She shifted closer to Alpin, her breath shallow, her fingers trembling as they traced the hard lines of his arms.
His muscles flexed beneath her touch, the corded strength of him evident even through the fine linen of his tunic. She could feel the warmth of his skin radiating through the fabric, the steady thrum of his pulse beneath her fingertips.
His hands found her waist, his grip firm yet gentle, as if he was afraid she might vanish if he held her too tightly.
"Ye're tremblin'," he murmured, his voice rough, his breath warm against her temple.
His thumbs stroked slow circles over her hips, grounding her, even as his touch set her alight.
"I ken," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.
His hands slid upward, tracing the curve of her ribs, his fingers splaying wide as he cupped her breasts through the thin fabric of her bodice.
She gasped, her back arching instinctively, pressing herself into his touch.
His thumbs found her nipples, already hard and aching, and he rolled them between his fingers, teasing them to stiff peaks. A soft, needy sound escaped her lips, and his mouth crashed down on hers before she could even finish the breath.
The kiss was deep, desperate, their tongues tangling as if they were both starving.
His lips were firm, demanding, but there was a tenderness there too, a reverence that made her heart clench.
She kissed him back just as fiercely, her hands fisting in the fabric of his tunic, pulling him closer, as if she could merge their bodies right here, right now.
The taste of him—wine and something darkly sweet, like spiced honey—filled her senses, and she moaned into his mouth, her body already throbbing with need.