Chapter 33
“We willnae panic.”
Davina’s voice carried farther than she expected, cutting through the rising murmur of the great hall mere minutes later. Several women turned toward her at once. They were maids, wives, older matrons who had seen more winters than she had years.
“We will prepare,” she continued, drawing strength and courage from her love for that place and those people. “And we will dae so quickly.”
The keep had shifted almost at once into a state of sharp awareness. Doors were barred and unbarred again, and men were moving with purpose rather than ceremony. Somewhere beyond the walls, horns sounded low and brief, which were signals passing from tower to tower.
Baird did not linger. He kissed her brow with a pressure that spoke of apology rather than farewell and was gone within moments. His voice was already rising in the yard as he called his men to arms.
Davina watched him disappear. She felt that familiar fear tugging at her chest, but she did not allow it to root. She turned instead to the women gathered near the long tables.
“Every hand is needed,” she reminded them. “Those who can cook will go tae the kitchens. Those who can sew, mend, or bind wounds will stay close. We will need bread, broth, and bandages in equal measure.”
A murmur of assent followed, as uncertainty gave way to motion.
“Mary,” Davina called, “see tae the stores. Count what we have and what must be stretched. Elspeth, hot water, always ready. And herbs, all of them.”
The women moved, creating an armor of resolve.
Davina took up her place among them without hesitation. She rolled up her sleeves, and very soon, her own fingers were dusted with flour, her thoughts sharp and ordered.
Fear would come later, she knew. Until then, there was work.
By midday, the kitchens were alive with heat and sound. Loaves were shaped and slid into ovens, cauldrons were set to simmer. Davina moved between them, offering calm words, redirecting effort and lifting spirits where she could.
The grounds were being cleared of anything that might be turned against them. Loose stones were gathered. Barrels were secured. Paths were widened where possible. She directed boys too young to fight and men too old to march, setting them to work with purpose.
More than once her gaze strayed to the far field where Baird trained the soldiers. His voice was steady thunder over the clash of steel. She did not go to him. He had his duties, she had hers.
Everyone kept doing their part, and by dusk, exhaustion crept into her bones, but she welcomed it.
It left little room for imagining what might come with the Sinclairs.
Realizing that they needed rest as much as they needed action, she headed to the training grounds, only to see that Baird was still there, pushing everyone, even himself, to the limit.
“Baird!” she called out to him.
Her voice barely carried over the clash of steel, but he heard it all the same.
He turned sharply, and she could see sweat darkening his hair.
Even his shirt was clinging to his body as though someone had poured water on him.
The yard was torn and trampled, and the men were moving in exhausted rotations.
Davina crossed the remaining distance with determined steps.
“Ye should stop,” she said, close enough now that he could not pretend not to hear her.
“Later,” he replied automatically and then barked another order at the men, pushing them harder still.
She waited until the drill broke at last, until the men staggered back, gulping water. Then she placed a hand against his arm.
“Baird,” she said again, more quietly. “Ye will exhaust yerself before the Sinclairs ever reach our gates.”
He looked at her then, and she saw how far he had already pushed himself. There was iron in his posture, but strain, too, pulled tight beneath discipline.
“They need tae be ready,” he said. “If I slow—”
“If ye break,” she interrupted softly, “they lose their laird.”
His jaw tightened. “I can endure more than this.”
“I ken ye can,” Davina said. “That daesnae mean ye must.”
He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Every moment we waste—”
“—is nae wasted if it keeps ye standing,” she interrupted him again. “Ye have been training since dawn. Ye have nae eaten since before then. And ye are nay use tae anyone if ye or yer men collapse in two days’ time.”
He hesitated, and the battle between instinct and reason was plain on his face.
She softened her tone. “Let them rest. Let yerself rest, just fer a little while.”
The wind stirred the banners above them. Somewhere in the yard a man laughed weakly. At last, Baird exhaled.
Davina felt it more than she heard it. It was in the way the tension left him in a long, reluctant breath, as though he had been holding himself together by force alone. He turned slightly, no longer the laird in command, but the man she knew beneath the weight of it all.
“How dae ye dae that?” he asked quietly.
She blinked. “Dae what?”
“Make me listen,” he said. He tried to smile, but he somehow couldn’t. Still, she appreciated the effort. “I have men twice me size who have nae managed it in years.”
Her fingers were still curled lightly around his arm. She did not move them. “Perhaps ye are simply sensible enough tae hear me.”
He snorted softly. “That is nae it.” He was still looking at her. “How is it that when ye speak, the noise quiets?”
The words caught her unprepared. For a heartbeat, the answer rose sharp and bright in her chest, pressing at her throat.
Because I love ye.
The truth startled her with its certainty. Davina swallowed.
“Because I ken ye,” she said instead. She could feel the onslaught of emotion prickling just underneath the surface of her skin, but she managed to control it. “I ken yer strengths, yer fears. I ken when ye push too hard, and when ye need someone tae stand in front of ye and say enough.”
His gaze did not leave her face. “Most people see only the laird.”
“That is their loss,” she replied softly.
He reached up without thinking, his hand brushing her wrist.
“Ye should rest too,” he said.
“Aye,” she agreed. “Which is why I propose we both dae something scandalously indulgent.”
His brow lifted. “Such as?”
“A bath,” she said firmly. “A proper one. With hot water and nay talk of Sinclairs or strategies.”
He considered this with the gravity of a man weighing battle plans.
“I like this idea,” he said at last. “Immensely.”
She smiled, feeling relief and fondness curling together in her chest.
“Good. Then let us be sensible together.”
She led him down the corridor without ceremony, holding his hand, as though she had already decided he would follow and had no doubt he would comply.
He was still carrying the echo of the training yard in his bones when she opened the door to her chamber and stepped aside, ushering him in with a small, satisfied smile.
He stopped short.
The room glowed with lamplight and steam. A great wooden tub dominated the space near the hearth. The water was already drawn, and faintly scented with herbs. Cloths were folded neatly nearby. The tub itself was unmistakably large enough for two.
Baird stared at it, then at her.
“How,” he asked slowly, “did ye manage this so quickly?”
Davina chuckled, closing the door behind them. “I didnae,” she said lightly. “I am nae miracle worker, despite what ye may think.”
He crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing in curiosity rather than suspicion. “Then?”
“I told the servants tae prepare it over an hour ago,” she said. “Just in case.”
He let out a low huff of laughter. “Ye planned this?”
“I hoped fer it,” she corrected.
He turned fully toward her now, the steam softening the lines of her face. “And how did ye ken I would agree tae join ye?”
She tilted her head, considering. “I didnae.”
His brow furrowed. “Then why risk it?”
Her smile turned sly. “Because I had more arguments prepared.”
He took a step closer, his presence filling the space between them. “Such as?”
She did not retreat.
“I could have reminded ye that exhaustion dulls judgment,” she said calmly. “That a laird who daesnae rest is a danger tae his people. That ye owe it tae yer men and tae me.”
He took another step.
“And if that failed?” he asked again.
Her gaze flicked briefly to his mouth, then back to his eyes. “Then I would have appealed tae yer better nature.”
He smiled. “And if that failed as well?”
She lifted her chin, pretending that she was not in the least bit flustered. “Then I would have told ye tae get intae the bath anyway.”
He laughed under his breath, stopping just close enough that he could feel the warmth of her through the steam.
“A dangerous woman,” he murmured.
“A prepared one,” she replied.
Baird did not answer her at once. Instead, he reached out slowly, as though any sudden movement might shatter the quiet she had so carefully built around them. His fingers brushed the fastening at her shoulder, asking without words.
Davina inhaled softly. “Baird,” she said, a question threaded through her voice, “what are ye daeing?”
He met her gaze, and for once there was nothing guarded there.
“Something I should have done sooner,” he replied.
She did not stop him.
He took that as permission and moved with deliberate care, untying, unfastening, easing each layer away as though it were precious. There was no haste in him and no hunger, only devoted attention. His hands lingered only long enough to ensure she was steady, comfortable, and unembarrassed.
She watched him with her dark eyes, trusting him utterly. When at last she stood before him in nothing but her shift, he paused, studying her as though committing the moment to memory.
“Ye are…” He stopped, then had to exhale. “Ye are extraordinary.”
Her lips curved. “So I am told.”
He smiled faintly and slipped the final layer from her shoulders, then offered his hand.
“Come,” he said.
The water steamed gently as he guided her into the tub, one careful step at a time, ensuring she did not slip.
Only when she was settled did he follow, rolling up his sleeves before taking the cloth from the edge.
Davina leaned back against the tub as the warm water lapped around them.
He dipped the cloth, wrung it out, and began to wash her arms with unhurried strokes, reverent in their simplicity.
“What are ye daeing now?” she murmured, though there was a smile in her voice.
“Taking care of ye,” he said quietly.
She opened her eyes. “I dinnae need—”
“I ken,” he interrupted gently. “But ye have taken care of me. Through worry, through foolishness, through days I would have broken meself apart if ye hadnae stood in me way.”
He moved the cloth with care, mindful of every breath she took. “Allow me this.”
She nodded just once. The water sloshed softly.
The fire cracked low behind them. She leaned back against his chest, trusting her weight to him without hesitation.
He steadied her with one arm, while he dipped the cloth beneath the surface.
When he drew it up and laid it against her back, feeling the warmth of her body, it made him slow even further.
He washed her with gentle strokes, mindful of how easily the moment might be disturbed.
Each time the cloth moved away, he bent his head and pressed a kiss to the place he had just tended: her shoulder, then the smooth line between her shoulders, then lower, along the graceful curve of her spine.
His lips lingered unhurried, as if he were searching to touch with something more lasting than care.
She turned within the narrow space of the tub and looked up at him. Steam softened her features but her eyes were clear.
“I never kent a touch could be so gentle,” she whispered.
Baird stilled, and for a moment, the cloth in his hand was forgotten. All he could do was look at her, the way her trust shone brighter than the lamplight. He lifted his free hand and brushed his thumb along her cheek.
“I learned it with ye,” he said quietly. “Or perhaps it was always there, waiting fer someone who mattered enough tae deserve it.”
Davina shifted gently, just enough to turn fully toward him. The water rippled softly between them as she lifted her hands to his shoulders. Her touch was soft, almost hesitant, as though she were still discovering the shape of this new tenderness.
Then, she leaned in and kissed him. It was a gentle kiss, as her lips brushed his, lingering as if to be certain he was really there.
Baird felt it settle through him like a held breath finally released.
He did not deepen it. He did not hurry her.
He simply met her where she was, answering her softness with his own.
He lifted one hand to cradle her jaw and returned the kiss with the same quiet reverence he had given her just moments before.
The moment of shared closeness gave way to something even more intimate, as they deepened the kiss, their hands trailing the curves of each other’s bodies, claiming each other once again in that quiet certainty that they were safe, cherished and no longer alone.