Chapter 34
Morning came quietly.
Davina woke to warmth first. She felt the steady heat of another body, and an arm curved securely around her waist. For a moment, she did not move.
She was merely suspended between sleep and waking, listening to the slow rhythm of Baird’s breathing behind her.
That was how they had fallen asleep after the bath, exhaustion finally claiming them both, and their limbs tangled without thought or pretense.
She smiled to herself.
Carefully, she shifted just enough to look at him. His face was softened by sleep, the lines of command and worry eased away. He looked younger like this.
Less laird. More man… her man.
She might have stayed there longer, but the day would not allow it.
When they finally rose, the mood remained gentle rather than hurried. They dressed side by side, the familiarity of it still new enough to feel like a small miracle. Davina pinned her hair while Baird fastened his belt.
“Baird,” she said, suddenly remembering something. “I am worried.”
He glanced at her at once. “About what?”
“The farmers,” she told him. “The villagers nearest the eastern road. If the Sinclairs are moving troops, they willnae stop at harrying shipments. Those folk have nay walls, and nay guards.”
He nodded slowly, already following her thoughts. “Aye. And the store rooms beyond the outer fields are exposed as well. There is grain and dried meat, and if they burn those, winter will finish what swords start.”
She turned to face him. “Then we should bring everyone in, all of them. People and supplies alike.”
“There will be complaints,” he pointed out. “Crowding and fear.”
“There will be survival,” she replied wisely.
A slow smile touched his mouth. “Ye are right.”
He crossed the room and took her hands. “We will go at once. We shall open the gates and clear space in the lower halls.”
She smiled. “Thank ye fer listening.”
“I always listen tae ye,” he said. Then, he added. “I am glad ye are on me side, Davina. I spent years believing a laird must carry every burden alone. Me faither saw it as strength.”
She squeezed his hands. “And now?”
“And now,” he said, “I think he was wrong.”
She laughed softly. “That is fortunate, because I have nay intention of letting ye dae anything alone ever again, if I can help it.”
He smiled fully then. “I was hoping ye would say that.”
The keep was already stirring when they went downstairs. For everyone present, the morning was sharp with urgency rather than ceremony. Davina felt it in the quickened steps of servants and the way every glance lingered a moment too long on Baird as he entered the hall.
He did not pause.
“Kenny,” he called.
Kenny was at his side at once, already armed and with his cloak fastened. “Aye, me laird?”
“Take six guards,” Baird said. “Ride ahead tae the villages. Tell them tae prepare tae leave immediately. We will help them take only what they can carry. Livestock, if there is time.”
Kenny nodded. “And if they resist?”
“They willnae,” Davina said before Baird could answer. “Tell them their lives are in danger.”
Kenny’s mouth curved briefly. “That will dae.”
Baird met her gaze, then turned back to Kenny. “If ye see Sinclair scouts—”
“I willnae linger,” Kenny finished. “We will clear the road.”
Within moments, the guards were moving and the horses were being led out. Kenny mounted swiftly, casting one last look back.
“We will be right behind ye,” Baird assured him.
Then they were gone, and the sound of the horses’ hooves echoed both like a promise and a warning. Davina drew a steady breath.
Baird turned to her. “Are ye ready?”
She nodded without hesitation. “Aye.”
He did not argue. Instead, he gestured for the stable hands. “Our horses.”
They rode out soon after, as the gates creaked open to release them into the widening morning.
Davina sat tall in the saddle, feeling the rhythm of the horse beneath her familiar and grounding.
The land stretched before them. The fields were still green, and deceptively peaceful, dotted with small cottages that did not yet know how close danger crept.
As they rode, Baird glanced at her. “If this turns ugly—”
She cut him off gently. “We ride together.”
He accepted that with a single nod.
The road unspooled ahead of them, carrying them toward the villages, toward fear and upheaval, but also toward purpose. Davina felt it settle in her bones.
Whatever the Sinclairs meant to take, they would not find these people unprotected.
Baird reined in hard at the edge of the village square. The sight before him set his teeth on edge.
Every villager had gathered. Man, women and children were clustered together like startled sheep, with bundles clutched to their chests and their faces pale with fear and confusion.
A baby cried somewhere near the well. An old man argued in sharp whispers with a guard who looked one breath away from shouting back.
Kenny stood near the center. His hands were spread in a placating gesture, and his voice raised but clearly failing him.
“I said ye will be safer inside the walls,” Kenny was saying. “This is nae a request—”
“That is precisely the problem,” a woman snapped. “Ye ride in at dawn and tell us tae abandon our homes with nay explanation?”
A murmur of agreement rippled through the crowd. Baird swore under his breath. He swung down from his horse and strode forward before the tension could snap outright. The guards stiffened at once, but relief was plain on more than one face.
“That will dae,” Baird said, and his voice cut clean through the noise.
The square fell silent. He stood where all could see him.
“I am Baird Kincaid,” he told them, although all of them knew it. “Laird of these lands.”
His name calmed them down, and their fear now sharpened with expectation.
“Ye are afraid,” he continued. “And ye have every right tae be. There has been an ambush on the eastern road. A soldier is dead. More are wounded.”
Gasps broke out. A woman crossed herself. A man swore aloud.
“The Sinclairs are moving troops,” Baird continued, not even trying to soften the truth. “This is nae rumor. It is fact. And they will nae spare villages on their way.”
A heavy silence followed, thick with dawning understanding.
“We are bringing ye intae the castle,” he informed them. “All of ye, with yer supplies and yer animals, where possible. The gates will hold. Me men will guard ye.”
A farmer stepped forward. His voice was shaking but it was a question that needed to be asked. “And our homes?”
Baird gave them the truth once again. “We will protect what we can. But lives matter more than stone and timber.”
Before the unease could grow again, Davina moved to his side. She did not raise her voice.
“Please,” she said tenderly, her voice addressing every single one of those faces individually. “Trust us.”
Every eye turned to her. Baird knew this was his moment to remain quiet, because he knew how much they all respected her.
“We will make room,” she continued. “There will be food, warmth and safety. This is nae abandonment. It is refuge.”
Something changed at that exact moment. Baird felt it like a change in the wind.
“Ye have me word,” he added. “I will nae leave ye behind.”
At last, heads began to nod.
Kenny let out a quiet breath beside him. “I was about tae start shouting… fer their own good.”
Baird murmured back. “Never shout at frightened people.” However, he didn’t allow the moment to linger. “Right,” he continued, clapping his hands once and the sharp sound cut through the murmurs. “Listen well.”
The guards straightened at once.
“Ye,” he said, pointing to two men nearest the well, “help the families with wagons. Children and the elderly first. Nay one rides alone.”
They moved immediately.
“Ye three, store sheds,” he continued. “Grain, dried meat, tools. Anything that keeps through winter comes with us.”
A guard nodded. “Aye, me laird.”
Baird turned slowly, taking in the square again, already changing shape as fear gave way to motion. “If it breathes and can be led, bring it. If it daes nae, lift it. If it breaks, leave it.”
There were no protests now, only hurried agreement. Davina stepped forward without waiting for instruction, already speaking gently to a woman struggling with a bundle far too heavy for her arms. She eased it from her grasp and redistributed its weight with practiced efficiency.
“Keep what matters,” she said softly. “The rest can be replaced.”
Baird watched her for a heartbeat too long, desperate to tell her how much her presence meant to him, but he knew that he had to be moving again.
He helped a farmer hitch a stubborn mule.
He forced his hands to steady, even as the animal balked.
He lifted a crate onto a wagon with a grunt, ignoring the ache in his shoulders.
When a boy froze in the middle of the square, looking as if he were about to cry, Baird crouched in front of him.
“Yer name, lad,” he said.
“Con—Connor,” the boy stammered.
Baird nodded. “Good name. Stay close tae yer maither, Connor. I will see ye inside the walls.”
The boy nodded fiercely and ran. Little by little, the village began to move as one. Guards and villagers worked shoulder to shoulder. Ropes were passed, carts were loaded, and animals were coaxed into line. Fear did not vanish, but it sharpened into purpose.
Davina reappeared at his side. Her hair was coming loose at her temples and her skirts were dusted with dirt. Yet, she had never looked more ravishing than at that very moment.
“The north cottages are nearly ready,” she told him, bringing him back to the present moment. “One woman refuses tae leave without her hens.”
Baird snorted. “Then we take the hens.”
Her mouth curved in quick relief. “I thought ye might say that.”