Chapter 5
THE WEIGHT OF WAITING
Daybreak streamed in through a crack in the deep navy panels that hung on all four sides of Aila and Lachlan’s bed.
“Five more minutes,” she yawned, stretching her arms and legs only to wrap them around Lachlan once more.
He chuckled, low and throaty, his voice not yet awake from sleep, and nestled his nose in her hair. Her chestnut colored locks were spread out across her pillow, letting the smell of her lavender soap mix with his woodsy scent.
“Aye,” he agreed. “Five more minutes would be a wonder.”
Beyond the cocoon of their bed, outside their cozy chambers and into the hall, the castle had begun to stir itself to life.
Maids bustled down the corridor, carrying their pails of ashes from the fireplaces they had been cleaning.
Guards stalked up and down the way, the night shift finally over.
The kitchen was no doubt teaming with activity as their new cook prepared the first meal of the day.
Aila could already smell the fresh bread baking in the oven.
Her stomach rumbled in eager anticipation of the warm, buttered toast that was sure to accompany her breakfast tray.
“It does nae sound as though yer stomach is in agreement with our plan,” Lachlan quipped.
“Och,” Aila brushed off his gentle concern. “‘Tis nothing. I will be fed soon enough. But if we leave now, I may nae get the chance to sit in yer arms again until well after the sun goes down.”
Lachlan pulled his arms around her tighter, holding her pressed against him until nothing but the thin fabric of her nightgown separated them.
“We cannae have that, now can we?”
Aila smiled warmly, though she was unable to answer him as he tilted his head and kissed her soundly.
As much as she loved running Kincaid Castle with Lachlan, and as anxious as she was to find out where Sorcha was so they could put this entire mess behind them, these precious few moments of her day were by far her favorite.
It was an unexpected joy that she would find herself the lady of a castle, responsible for the members of their clan, and helping to raise three dear orphans.
Two of those children were knocking on the door now, dashing the peace of the room away.
“Uncle Loch? Are ye up?”
Arran’s impatient voice called through the door, eliciting a sigh of resignation from Aila. Lachlan pulled his pillow over his face and groaned.
“Ye promised we could start training today,” Christopher diplomatically reminded him. “And the other warriors are already on the training field. I dinnae wish to be late.”
Another sharp pounding on the door, and Aila had to swallow her laugh.
“Ye did promise them,” she whispered softly, peeling the pillow off Lachlan’s face.
“Aye, I just did nae think they would be so eager as to rise with the roosters,” Lachlan muttered.
“Come on, Uncle Loch. Get up! We want to pick out our swords.”
Arran’s excitement was palpable, even through the door.
Aila remembered well just how thrilling it had been when she had started training.
Though, hers was more of a trial by fire, watching other men train from the shadows and the practicing deep in the woods where no one could see her fail over and over again.
She had learned a little from her brother when she was young, that much had been a help when she was first getting started.
A surge of gratitude rose in her chest at the knowledge that Arran and Christopher would never again have to figure things out on their own. That Elsie would only learn how to wield a sword if she wanted to, and only once she was big enough to carry it.
Squeezing Lachlan’s arm, she smiled at him even as he squinted against the sunlight.
“Come on,” she urged. “Best nae keep those two waiting. We are lucky enough as it is that they have nae barged in here and pulled ye out of bed already.”
“Go and break yer fast,” Lachlan ordered the boys. “I will be down and ready before ye are finished. Ye can nae handle a full day of training on an empty belly.”
Both of the boys cheered their excitement as they raced down the corridor and into the kitchens. Aila winced at the thought of the trouble they would be sure to cause the cook, but there was nothing to do for it now except get down to the kitchens themselves as quickly as possible.
Yanking back the privacy curtains from around their bed, Aila pushed herself out from under the covers.
Her feet were warm against the furs that Lachlan had spread out across the stone floors.
A fresh pitcher of water was waiting for her to use to wash, which she did quickly while Lachlan stoked the fire.
They both donned their clothes; Aila in her leather breeches and long wool tunic, and Lachlan in his plaid and doublet.
They both knew that as soon as the training began in earnest, the doublet would come off.
But with snow on the ground still, it was too cold to go without one for now.
As Lachlan pulled on his boots, Aila tugged on her mitts, and then they were ready.
Just as Aila reached for the door, Lachlan swept her up in his arms and kissed her until her head spun. He only let her go once she was breathless and flushed and wishing that he hadn’t made any promises to the boys.
“What was that for?” she wheezed.
He shrugged and opened the door, acting deceptively nonchalant.
“Since I am likely to be too busy to kiss ye much today, I wanted to make sure it was one worth remembering.”
Aila, baffled, followed Lachlan into the kitchen, where Arran and Christopher were scarfing down the last vestiges of their breakfast.
“All right, lads. Let’s go.”
There was nothing Aila could do to stop the smile that spread across her face as she watched Lachlan place a hand on each of the boys’ backs to lead them out of the castle.
He had settled so clearly into his role as proud father.
She knew that raising these children was helping heal a part of Lachlan, one that had believed for years there would be no future for his clan and that it was all his fault.
That he was currently headed to the field to begin training the next generation of warriors spoke volumes of just how far they had come.
The castle itself echoed the sentiment.
Walls that had once been covered in a layer of soot, paintings ripped from the walls, tapestries of Kincaid history slashed, now only resembled a clan growing, budding with life.
Gone were the cavernous rooms, a shadow of what they had once been.
In their place were warm and inviting beds, each filled with the newest members of their clan, waiting for their homes to be finished.
Every warm and friendly face Aila passed offered a good morning and a smile that she returned in kind.
Their numbers had grown faster than they knew what to do with.
Between the lost Kincaid members finally reclaiming their land and the exiled MacGregor clansmen abandoning their cowardly Laird, there was always someone new to welcome. That suited her and Lachlan just fine.
“We will need the numbers if we are ever going to stand up to Dudley.” Lachlan had spent countless hours pouring over ledgers and plans in the weeks since Taryn’s return.
“And the more men we have, the faster the work will go on restoring the village homes. Until then, we will offer the empty chambers in the castle.”
Aila had thought Lachlan right when he told her his plans a fortnight ago, and she still thought it now. Especially as the makeshift family, sans the youngest, crossed the threshold of the castle and into the courtyard.
They had already fought so many battles together.
Evidence of that could still be seen in the cracks between the stones of the courtyard.
And there were still battles yet to come.
But for now, it was enough to know that they wouldn’t be fighting alone.
They had allies. They had hope. They had the next generation of warriors to train.
Aila perched on top of the stone wall that bordered the training field, happy to let the sun soak into her skin after a few too many days of being cooped up inside to avoid the last snowfall of the season.
She chuckled at the sullen faces the boys wore when they discovered that Lachlan wasn’t going to let them train with the real swords today.
They recovered their spirits quickly enough when he tossed them wooden ones instead and began showing them the proper way to hold the weapon.
“The first rule of battle is to always be aware of yer surroundings,” Lachlan told the boys sagely.
“Nay matter what is going on, ye must keep an eye on everything around ye. It does nae matter if ye slay yer opponent only to wind up with a sword in yer back because ye got too distracted to see it coming.”
“Dinnae fash, Uncle Loch,” Arran told him, his chest puffing with pride. “That will nae happen. I will always have Christopher’s back, and he will watch mine.”
“Is that so? Aye, well ‘tis a good thing to have a brother to stand beside ye. But that makes yer duty to train all the more serious. It is nae yer own life ye are working to save, but the man ye fight with. Any weakness, any moment of distraction, any skill that ye have nae sharpened enough could mean the end of his life too.”
Aila winced. There was no denying the truth of Lachlan’s words.
In fact, she had told Taryn and Sorcha something nearly identical when they all first started training together.
But she hated that these boys would now be saddled with such a responsibility for the rest of their lives.
It was a heavy burden to bear, no matter how much they both seemed to want to carry the mantle.
“This is serious business,” Christopher commented, a sliver of doubt to his words.