Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
The castle loomed ahead as Baird and Kenny rode through the gates. The journey back from Rowanford had been long, the mood grim, and every step of the horse beneath him only reminded him how little time he had before winter tightened its grip.
He was halfway across the bailey when he heard footsteps rushing toward him.
“Me laird!”
It was Davina.
He reined in sharply, turning just as she hurried down the steps.
She held her skirts gathered in her hands to keep from tripping.
Ailis trailed behind her looking apologetic, but Davina didn’t slow.
One look at her worried and breathless face made something inside him waver, though he forced his expression to remain steady.
“Me laird?” she echoed. “What is wrong? Yer face… ye look troubled.”
He exhaled hard, more worn than he wanted to admit. Dust clung to his boots, the cold had sunk into his bones, and the memory of the ruined grain stores still burned behind his eyes.
“There are things I need tae handle,” he said more dismissively than he meant to. “Naething ye need tae worry yerself over.”
He started toward the castle steps, but she moved with him, still watching him with that sharp, perceptive gaze he had already learned to both admire and dread.
“Baird,” she said more firmly, “something has happened.”
He stopped, only for a heartbeat. They had not agreed to a first name familiarity, yet they had both started using each other’s given names in exactly the right situation. This was one of those.
Still, he didn’t answer her. Instead, he turned slightly toward the nearest guards. “Ewan. Tomas.”
Both men straightened at once.
“From now on,” Baird said, nodding toward Davina, “ye’ll stay with me wife when she leaves the keep. Wherever she goes within the castle grounds, ye go.”
Davina blinked. “What?”
Baird held her gaze, trying to soften the bluntness of his tone and failing. “Ye heard me.”
“That isnae necessary,” she insisted. “I’ve been in the kitchens, the stores, the bailey—”
“Aye, and all without proper protection.”
“I was safe,” she argued.
“Ye think ye were,” he snapped, harsher than intended. “But ye’re fergetting me braither was just murdered in this very castle.”
Her lips parted, with surprise flickering across her face.
He took a breath, leveling his voice. “I’ll nae take yer word fer whether it’s necessary. Nae now, when I’ve just seen what the Sinclairs are willing tae dae tae weaken us.”
Her brows knit. “What did they dae?”
“It’s clan business,” he said firmly. “I’ll handle it.”
Davina’s expression softened for a moment. He could see disappointment, hurt, or just simple concern, he couldn’t tell right.
“Baird…”
But he had already stepped past her.
“Escort her wherever she goes,” he said over his shoulder to the guards. “Nay exceptions.”
“Yes, me laird,” they replied.
Baird didn’t wait for Davina’s protest. He strode inside, feeling in each step the weight of responsibility and the knowledge that danger was far closer than anyone wanted to believe.
But as he reached the stairwell, he paused, because behind him he heard her voice, quiet and confused, talking tae Ailis.
“He won’t even tell me what happened…”
Something in his chest pulled tight. He shoved it down and kept walking.
Duty first. Always duty.
Davina stood rooted to the spot long after Baird disappeared into the keep. The two guards he’d assigned to her lingered discreetly several paces back, pretending they weren’t listening, but of course they were. Ailis remained at her side.
Ailis spoke. “He kens what he’s daeing, me lady. The laird always daes.”
Davina let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “I ken he daes. Truly, I dae.” Her fingers curled around the fabric of her skirt. “I only wish he would share things with me.”
Ailis gave her a small, sympathetic smile. “He will in time. He’s a guarded man, our laird. Always has been.”
Davina glanced toward the keep again. “I’m his wife. Should that nae count fer something?”
“It will,” Ailis said softly. “But the walls he built were set long before ye ever came. Give it time, me lady.”
Davina nodded, though uncertainty still curled within her. She forced a breath and steadied herself. “Let’s walk.”
“Where tae?” Ailis inquired.
Davina turned toward the narrow stone archway at the far end of the bailey. “The garden. Ye mentioned it yesterday, didnae ye? Ye said it had been some time since anyone tended it.”
Ailis hesitated, as though weighing whether this was a good idea. “Aye… it’s overgrown, me lady. Truly overgrown.”
Davina offered her a small smile. “That only makes me want tae see it more.”
Ailis sighed, then gestured for her to follow. “Very well. But dinnae say I didnae warn ye.”
With the guards trailing unobtrusively behind, they walked through the archway. Davina drew in a slow breath. The garden was a jungle… a beautiful, wild, crumbling jungle.
Vines strangled the stone benches. Thistles and tall grasses swallowed the paths.
A once-proud fountain stood cracked and half-filled with rainwater, choked by algae and fallen leaves.
Bushes and hedges had grown into tangled walls, blocking sunlight from patches of earth.
The remnants of what must have once been flower beds were buried beneath years of neglect.
And yet, Davina’s heart swelled, because beneath the wildness, beneath the mess, she could see the bones of something magnificent. She could see a place where color once thrived, where someone had loved every plant, every stone, every leaf.
“This…” she breathed, stepping forward, brushing aside an overgrown branch, “this was beautiful once.”
Davina knelt, running her fingers over the soil beneath the weeds. It was rich earth, not too dry and not too rocky. There was so much potential.
“Oh, Ailis,” she whispered, “I can see the garden that used tae be here.”
Ailis’s eyes softened. “I kent ye would, me lady.”
Davina stood again, turning slowly in a full circle. Her mind spun with possibilities: paths cleared, flowers blooming again, vines trimmed, the fountain restored.
“It will take time,” she said softly. “A great deal of it. But the life is still here.”
Ailis smiled. “Then ye’ve come tae the right place, me lady. The castle could use someone tae bring a wee bit of life back.”
“I think I’d like tae try,” she said. “Nay matter how long it takes.”
Davina tucked a stray curl behind her ear and stepped deeper into the garden.
“Ye ken, Ailis,” she said, her voice brightening despite the winter chill, “I can already see where the lilies should go. Over there, near the fountain. They like damp soil. And the roses… oh, roses would thrive along the south wall where the sun warms it.”
Ailis blinked at her, surprised and delighted. “Ye’ve already thought this through.”
Davina laughed softly. “I cannae seem tae help it. Me maither keeps a large garden at home, and she taught me everything. I used tae help her tend the herbs and prune the roses. It always felt like… like creating something alive with yer own hands.”
“And ye plan tae plant roses here, me lady?”
“Aye, wild Highland roses, if we can find them. They’d climb beautifully over that old trellis.” She pointed to what was now a sagging wooden arch half-swallowed by vines. “And heather, too. And foxglove. Oh, and violets! They grow well in shade.”
Ailis chuckled. “Well, at this rate, ye’ll need an army of gardeners.”
“Dae we have gardeners?” Davina asked hopefully.
“Aye,” Ailis said, “but they’re usually busy with other work. The laird’s been stretching everyone thin since he took charge. The garden’s been a lost cause tae them.”
Davina’s determination sharpened. “Then let’s give them a cause again.”
Ailis’s smile widened. “Come on, then.”
They returned to the bailey with the two guards shadowing them silently. Ailis led Davina toward the far side of the yard where two gardeners, Gregor and Iain, were hauling sacks of grain to the stables.
Davina’s steps faltered. “Oh… they’re daeing something important.”
“That’s mucking stalls, me lady,” Ailis whispered back. “Important, aye, but nae their usual work.”
Gregor spotted them first and straightened, wiping his hands on his tunic. “Ailis? And, me lady.” He bowed quickly. “What brings ye out here?”
Before Davina could speak, Ailis lifted her chin with unmistakable authority. “The new Lady Kincaid has instructions fer ye both.”
The two men exchanged startled glances. Then Gregor’s weathered face brightened with interest. “Instructions? Fer the garden?”
Iain nodded eagerly. “We noticed ye were looking at it. It’s been years since anyone has.”
Davina clasped her hands together, suddenly both shy and excited. “Yes. I’d like tae revive it.”
Iain stepped forward. “What did ye have in mind, me lady?”
Davina smiled. “A great deal, I’m afraid.”
She listed her ideas: roses along the wall, lilies near the fountain, wild heather for color, herbs for the kitchens, and clearing pathways to restore the old layout. As she spoke, the gardeners’ faces shifted from polite curiosity to genuine enthusiasm.
“Aye, we can dae all that,” Gregor said, nodding firmly. “Though it’ll take time.”
“And work,” Iain added. “Much of it.”
Davina’s smile broadened. “I ken. But I’m willing tae work beside ye.”
Both men blinked, as though a highborn lady offering to dig in the earth was something out of a story.
Gregor bowed deeper this time. “Then we’re with ye, me lady.”
Ailis squeezed Davina’s arm. “There ye have it.”
Davina looked back toward the overgrown garden and felt something stir in her chest. She had come to Kincaid Castle a stranger, a wife by necessity and a woman unsure of her place.
But there, among the soil, stone and memory, she could already feel the roots of her new life beginning to take hold.