Chapter 15
HOPE IN THE SNOWDROPS
The room was thick with tension, so heedy and heavy that it felt like a weight sitting on Aila’s chest. Never before had she seen the Kincaid Castle war room so overcrowded with worried and somber expressions.
Lachlan stood towering over the long table, his gaze focused sharply on the maps sprawled out across the oak top, as if the answer to their problems lay somewhere in the boundary lines.
Taryn and James, still just as inseparable as they had been since their arrival, had linked fingers. She sat in the chair next to Aila while James stood at her side, their joined hands resting on her shoulder. The picture they painted gave Aila a momentary glimpse of joy.
Every other seat in the room and a few others from the Great Hall that had been brought in were filled with captains and guardsmen and representatives from the Fraser and McKenzie Clans.
Each had brought their own maps and references, their own insights and aid.
All of which Aila was exceedingly grateful for.
However, they all each had their own opinions about the way things ought to go, and few agreed with the others.
She sighed into her glass of wine as she drained the rest of the blood-red liquid.
“I said it before, and I will say it again. We should spread out, stretch our defenses across the border, so there is nay way they get into our lands in the first place.”
Grumblings followed this proclamation. It was yet another plan offered by another captain, Aila couldn’t quite remember the name of or which clan he spoke for. It didn’t matter much, seeing as less than half of the room agreed with him about his plan.
“Nay,” James argued. “We will be stretching ourselves too thin. How could one or two lines of warriors possibly hold fast against the weight of Dudley’s army?”
“There is nay telling their number,” another man added. “There is nay way of kenning how many men will come with him.”
“We could be preparing to fight back the whole of the British forces,” Taryn whispered in terror.
Aila wasn’t quite sure how helpful it was to have Taryn here, if for her own sake.
Nor did she think all the bickering was good for anyone.
Lachlan had said something last night, explaining the importance of every man so that every ally feels they have had their voices heard.
He said that it was good for morale if they could all agree on the strategy they would be executing together.
But as far as Aila could see, all this council of war was good for was riling tempers and ruffling feathers.
“Enough,” Lachlan ordered, silencing the banter in an instant.
He had clearly had enough of their opinions, too. With his brow lowered, nearly covering his eyes entirely, Lachlan slid into his chair and ran a hand roughly over his face, a telltale sign he was at his wit’s end.
“James is right,” he said at last, breaking the silence and the tension at once. “We cannae afford to spread our men out so wide. They will nae survive it. Our best bet is to gather in one place, the land they are most likely to cut through, and fend them off there.”
He sighed deeply before continuing. Looking up, Aila’s heart wrenched at the desperate defeat she saw lurking in the shadows of his eyes.
“But that would mean figuring out where they are planning on attacking first. And then we would need to ensure our men are there and ready before Dudley can make his move. So we must ken the where and the when of his plans and beat him to it. Even if we are able to do such a miraculous thing, even if we make it to the battlefield, we will need to consider the actual fighting. I have nay doubt that Dudley has allies to fight for his cause, nay matter how crooked. And,” he sighed again, “because I am a wanted man, a fugitive on the run from British law, he has every reason to attack over and over. There will be none of us left standing when he is finished with us.”
His words fell heavy and thick over the room.
Anger and exasperation melted into something much more guttural.
But Aila couldn’t think about what the rest of the room was feeling.
She couldn’t contemplate the fact that they all had families and homes to return to, wives and children who needed them.
Not when Lachlan’s thoughts were written plainly across his face.
“The only way forward is—” he started again, but Aila cut him off.
“If I may,” she spoke sternly, though she didn’t give Lachlan the opportunity to argue with her. “This war is nae about justice. The Baron is nae coming for us because he seeks to right a wrong or ensure the law is carried out. He is coming because of his greed.”
She locked eyes with Lachlan, speaking directly to the plan she had seen forming in those eyes.
That was the trouble with loving someone the way she loved him—she could hear his thoughts almost as clearly as her own.
It had taken only until his second sentence detailing the risks and obstacles of this battle for her to guess what he was planning to do.
He was going to sacrifice himself, to give himself over to Dudley all in an effort to save the lives of those at the table and all the men they represented.
He, of course, was doing this with no regard for himself.
He had lived through prison once before, for years at a time.
But this time was different. Lachlan needed to consider Aila, Arran, Christopher, and Elsie.
He needed to think about all of his clansmen, those who relied upon him to lead and protect them.
There was more at stake than he was truly considering.
And Aila knew it was her responsibility to remind him of such things.
“A man like Dudley will never be satisfied with justice, nay matter the laws ye might have broken to secure yer freedom. He will only ever be content once he rules everything he thinks belongs to him. That is what we are fighting against—nae a sense of right and wrong, but to protect our people from being ruled by the likes of him.”
She took a breath, well aware that the rest of the room was watching her, but keeping her gaze level on Lachlan anyway.
“It would be a pointless endeavor to sacrifice yerself to him. It would do nothing but rob me of a husband, the children of the only father they have ever kent, and yer clan of its Laird, all in the hour in which we need ye most. So dinnae even think about it.”
She punctuated every word, making her point clear. Lachlan held her gaze for one heartbeat, then two, three, four, and five before he dropped his eyes. It was a slight imperceptible nod should anyone have not been studying him with the intensity she was, but she had seen it all the same.
“So what do we do?” Taryn asked, her voice small and more than a little terrified.
For all of her bravery and boldness in facing down her parents, Taryn was still horrified of what Dudley might do.
Aila couldn’t blame her friend. Every day they lived surrounded by the evidence of the level of malice the Baron was capable of.
It was hard to ignore the possibility of what could become of all of them.
“We fight,” Aila told the room, her voice loud and clear.
“We find out what we can as quickly as possible. We gather as many allies as will answer our call. And when the time comes, we fight with such a strength, such a ferocity that the English turn and run with their tails tucked between their legs and nay desire to ever step foot onto our lands again.”
A cheer erupted in the room, surprising her with the vigor of the men’s support. She hadn’t spoken to rouse fighting spirits or convince people to do her bidding. She had merely spoken the only truth she was willing to accept.
Having landed on some semblance of agreement and the closeness of the noonday meal, Lachlan dismissed the council of war. Slowly, all of their friends and allies filed out of the room, each offering a smile of thanks or a nod of support, until only Lachlan and Aila were left.
The door clicked shut and for the first time in weeks, the newlyweds were well and truly alone.
There were no young prying eyes or demands on their time.
No one to rush them out of bed and onto their feet to prepare for the fight.
Nothing but blissful silence and the faint chirping of birds outside the paned window.
“Are ye upset with me?” Aila asked, her voice small as it broke through the quiet.
Lachlan still sat in his chair, his shoulders decidedly more slumped than they had been during the council. His hands peeled away from his face and he looked up at her, confusion creating a deep line between his brows.
“Why would I be upset with ye, love?” he questioned.
She shrugged and sighed, her own shoulders heavy with the burden of the role she had stepped into.
It was one thing to be a new bride. It was an entirely different thing to also take on the role of Lady of the Kincaids when the clan was still rebuilding itself and on the brink of war.
She never knew what to say or how to act, especially not when it came to supporting or arguing with Lachlan.
“I disagreed with ye. In front of the entire council, all our allies and friends and the generals. I would hate for them to think that I dinnae support ye, that ye are nae Laird of this clan. Because ye are. I only wanted to remind ye of yer duties to the clan, of who the Baron truly is. He is nae a man of honor the way ye are and will nae respect yer sacrifice. It will only make him more greedy and—”