Chapter Sixteen
The gray light of dawn spilled gently through the cottage window, softly illuminating paths across the room, bringing with it a new day.
Ailith lay still, afraid to move, afraid that any shift might wake her and reveal it had all been a dream.
But it wasn’t.
His arm was draped protectively around her waist, the warmth of his skin against her back. His chest moving in and out with the steady rhythmic sounds of his breathing.
Hendry asleep with her. It was real.
She blinked, eyes burning as the weight of everything they’d said and what they hadn’t, settled over her like another layer of blankets. Her heart ached with it, not from pain, but from the tenderness of a love she had buried long ago, only to find it still alive and stronger than ever.
He stirred behind her, a soft grunt as he came to wakefulness.
“Ye’re awake,” she whispered, not turning.
“Aye,” came his reply, voice gravely with sleep. “I woke earlier but remained still. I didnae wish to disturb ye.”
“Ye wouldn’t have.” She swallowed thickly and rolled onto her back, eyes meeting his. “I’ve hardly slept. I was afraid if I closed my eyes too long, ye would be gone when I opened them.”
His brow furrowed, and he leaned on his elbow to look down at her. “I am nae gone. And I will nae be going far from ye.”
Still, her voice trembled. “Ye must go soon from the bed.”
He hesitated, then gave a slow nod. “I must. There’s still much to do. My men await. I must see about the wounded.”
Her chest tightened, and for a moment she hated reality for intruding, for demanding him so soon. But she nodded. “I will help where I can.”
Hendry reached out and caught her hand in his, rough fingers cradling hers like they were something precious. “But I swear Ailith, I will return to ye. I wish for a life with ye, not just a moment.”
Her throat caught. “And I want one with ye. But… I am uncertain about how we begin again.”
He gave her a small, aching smile. “One day at a time. We will take our time, mend what was torn. And if ye will have me, I shall spend every day making ye believe in us again.”
Ailith sat up slowly, the blanket falling around her waist. She leaned over and kissed him softly, no passion, just a quiet promise.
“I already do.”
Hendry pressed a kiss to her lips and rose from the bed. He added kindling to the fading fire in the hearth, then went about washing up. Obviously, the squire had come inside while they’d slept.
Her cheeks burned at the realization, but she didn’t dare take her gaze from him. She enjoyed admiring the nakedness of his body too much.
While he pulled on his breeches, stockings, tunic, and boots, he informed her about his plans for the day. “I will break my fast, then meet with the other leaders and the laird. Then I gather my men and…” His voice broke. “Assign duties to those who remain.”
Ailith slid from the bed with the blanket wrapped around her and let Teller, who scratched at the door, out. “How many men did ye lose?”
He let out a long sigh. “Five.” Turning away, he walked to get his leather belt from a hook by the hearth and wrapped it around his waist. “I best go.”
Moving across the cool floorboards, Ailith went to him and lifted her face to accept a kiss. “I must fetch my donkey and wagon from the stables, then I must go to my cottage. I require clothing; my current set is in a horrible state.”
Before she could say more, he took her arm and pulled her against himself. “Someone will have to go with ye. There could still be MacLeods about. Those who could nae escape by sea, and they will be desperate.”
“I dinnae wish to take someone away from their duties,” Ailith protested. “I will ask the women, I am sure someone can spare clothing.”
It was gratifying when he let out a relieved breath. “Once all is settled, I will go with ye. I ken ye will wish to see all is well at yer home.”
Ailith wanted to ask more questions, but they’d have time to talk. For now, she would remain in there, spending her days at the keep and nights with Hendry.
Despite washing up with the water left in the bucket, she was reluctant to dress. Her clothes were soiled with dried blood and other things she’d rather not think about. She hadn’t time to consider much the night before, washing her clothing had been last on her mind.
Crossing to the old trunk at the foot of the bed, she lifted the lid and dug through the neatly folded garments.
Most were well-worn and in need of mending, but she found one tunic that, while frayed at the cuffs and thin from years of washing, smelled of cedar and lavender sachets tucked beneath the linens. Clean. That would have to be enough.
She pulled it on over her chemise. It hung a bit loosely, but the fabric was soft and comforting.
Her skirts, however, were another matter.
With a sigh, she picked up the soiled ones and stepped into them.
They crackled faintly with dried blood, and she pushed down the rising unease that threatened to turn her stomach.
Using her fingers to untangle her hair, she braided it. Then laced up her boots, squared her shoulders, and left the cottage.
The moment she stepped out into the morning air, the world met her with stillness, which contrasted starkly after days filled with shouts, hurried footsteps, and the agonized moans of the wounded.
The courtyard was damp with dew, the flagstones glistening beneath her feet as she walked across them.
Smoke curled lazily from the kitchen chimney, and the scent of ash and fresh bread teased her senses.
Her steps echoed lightly as she crossed the worn stone path, eyes scanning the keep’s weathered walls and the distant shapes of stable hands beginning their day. The castle had not yet fully woken, but it breathed with life again. A hum of resilience.
She entered through the kitchen doors, the warmth of the hearth washing over her.
The housekeeper greeted her with a brisk nod and tired eyes, quickly informing her that the sick and wounded had been moved into the adjacent chambers to better accommodate care.
Ailith sat at the table next to the kitchens, normally used by the servants, and ate a simple meal of bread and porridge.
The great room had changed greatly from the day before. The tables, benches, and floors had been scrubbed. Evergreen sprigs in jugs had been set out to freshen the air and cover the remnant odors of sickness.
There, near the hearth, sat Nala with a large basket of neatly rolled bandages beside her. The young woman looked up, her eyes rimmed with fatigue, but when she saw Ailith, her smile bloomed with quiet relief.
“I am here to help,” Ailith said gently, settling into the chair beside her.
Nala exhaled with something close to gratitude. “Ye are a godsend.”
Ailith offered a weary smile. “Where are the others?”
“The chambermaids are working the laundry. Ainsley’s in with the wounded, helping them break their fast.”
Nala’s gaze swept over her, lingering on the tunic. Her lips twitched. “I dare nae ask where ye managed to find that.”
Ailith laughed softly, the sound surprising herself. “It’s Hendry’s,” she confessed in a whisper, a shy grin tugging at her mouth.
Nala’s eyebrows shot up, and then she beamed, eyes sparkling. “I am so very glad to hear it. We were growing tired of the man’s constant glum expression.”
Ailith’s face flushed with warmth. “If I can be forthright… my heart feels lighter as well. It’ll be slow going, but…I am hopeful.”
Nala leaned in with an impish smile. “Dinnae worry yerself. Alexander himself mentioned how he hoped ye and Hendry would grow closer. Said ye would be good for the man.”
The warmth in Ailith’s cheeks spread to her chest, a quiet joy taking root.
Of course Nala and her husband confided in one another in bed. She’d nearly forgotten how a couple’s bond grew stronger in the hush of night. How soft laughter and whispered truths shared in the dark could weave two souls closer than mere time alone could manage.
For the first time in what felt like years, she allowed herself to hope that she would share moments like those with Hendry.
Nala rose from her chair and stretched, arms arching overhead as a yawn escaped her.
Her dark, soft curls bounced with the motion, catching the light like burnished springs.
Ailith watched her for a moment, struck by the woman’s beauty.
The warm golden hue of her brown skin, the proud line of her jaw, the natural grace she wore like a crown.
And yet, Nala carried herself with such ease, such unaffected humility, that ye wondered how she was unaware of the radiance she exuded.
“Come,” Nala said with a smile, reaching for Ailith’s hand. “We must find ye something more suitable to wear. This is nae a time for pretty gowns, but we’ll no let ye walk about in bloodied skirts.”
“I can’t go home yet. Not until the roads are safer.” Ailith looked down at her stained clothing. “Once I do, I’ll wash and return whatever ye lend me. Neatly pressed and free of every speck of dust, I promise.”
Nala gave a soft laugh and waved her concern away. “There’s no need. The wardrobe is filled with clothes left behind by Alexander’s mother. She’s gone to live with Gavin and his wife now, on another isle, and the garments are for any woman who finds herself in need.”
They left the great room, climbed two flights of stairs, and walked down the corridor.
Their steps echoing lightly off the stone walls.
Morning sun slanted through high, narrow windows, casting gold light on the stone floor.
Inside the chamber, they moved to an old but polished armoire that stood tall near the bed.
Nala opened the carved wooden doors with a creak, revealing a trove of carefully arranged garments, folded items, neatly hung skirts, blouses of every shade, and fine woolen vests.