Chapter 19
THE LAIRD AND HIS LADY
Aila’s stomach roiled. She could hardly make sense of what her ears were telling her.
“It is nae time,” she protested. “They were nae supposed to attack for days yet. It is nae time.”
Even as she spoke, she threw her bow over her back alongside the quiver full of arrows. Taryn did the same, while Lachlan and James strapped on more weapons than she had ever seen either of them carry.
“Get to the battlements,” Lachlan ordered. “Secure us from the air. Stay as far away from the battle as ye can.”
She had anticipated this order from him.
She knew her husband well enough to know that he was going to try everything he could to keep her from danger.
But he should have known she was never going to allow that to happen.
They were more than just husband and wife.
They were partners in every sense of the word.
She would fight at his side, go where he went, protect his back as he protected hers.
She was not a simpering lady, one prone to fainting spells and hysteria.
She was a fighter, just as he was, trained for combat.
She bore just as many scars as he did. She had witnessed violence and had been the deliverer of fatal blows when that was required of her.
She was not a coward. She would not hide in the ramparts, content to let their people risk their lives for her while she stayed safely out of reach.
“I am nae leaving yer side,” Aila said in a voice that left no room for argument.
Lachlan stopped only long enough to cast her a mournful look before nodding once.
Aila moved to the window, watching as their allies and armies gathered in determined and frenzied lines in the courtyard and village fields that lay just beyond.
Women and children scampered into the castle, panic written on every face.
Aila’s heart nearly shattered at the sight of all the chaos.
Behind her, Lachlan gave orders to those in command, telling them where to stand, what signals to watch for.
The room erupted into chaotic movement as everyone dashed to carry out Lachlan’s orders.
She watched Taryn and James leave, hand in hand, making their way through the castle to collect their weapons.
Aila knew she would see her friend again, if only on the battlefield.
Her heart longed to say something, to tell Taryn how much she loved her.
She wanted to find Sorcha, rush to tell her just how much their friendship meant.
The bond Aila shared with the other two women had truly been a lifeline. But there was no time for sentimentality. There was no time for whispered, heartfelt words. Aila couldn’t be anything other than the Lady of Kincaid Castle, proud and strong, leading her people right alongside her husband.
Her heart pounded and her blood thrummed.
This was it. The battle they had all been waiting for.
The culmination of years of fighting and running and trying to do what is right.
Her home, her family were all being put in harm’s way, but she knew there could be no other path forward, no matter how the day might end.
The Baron had taken too much, ruined too much, to allow his actions to go unthwarted.
He had stolen Lachlan’s family, his home, nearly his entire clan right out from under him.
Dudley had seen to it that Lachlan wasted years in prison, suffering endlessly, as a cruel form of retribution.
But Lachlan wasn’t the only one who had suffered.
Arran, at a mere seven years old, had witnessed the slaughter of his entire family.
The clan members who had survived the Baron’s first attack those years ago had been forced to flee their homes and seek out refuge within the safety of a stranger’s land.
They had only just returned in the last year, rebuilding their homes and reestablishing their trades.
Taryn, having been bound by a marriage proposal to the Baron, had fled her home under the cover of night, leaving behind everything she had ever known, everyone she had ever loved, all for the hope of survival.
Aila had watched her friend look over her shoulder, jumping at almost every shadow for years.
It hadn’t been until James had hunted and captured her that Taryn had been able to stare down her past in the face and make peace with it.
As much peace as she could, considering her childhood best friend was still an indentured servant to the Baron.
James had spent the last several years consumed with guilt that he didn’t protect his sister from Dudley, nearly costing him his life and the lives of his parents.
Everywhere she looked, she could see signs of where Baron Dudley had impacted their lives, and never for the better.
Their homes still bore evidence of abandonment, their land still wore scorch marks.
Lachlan’s skin, Taryn’s soul, Arran’s innocence had all been scarred by the Baron’s hand. It made Aila’s stomach turn,
“Uncle Loch?”
Arran’s voice, unusually small and timid, came from the doorway of the war room. She didn’t think it was possible, but her heart sank even lower. She turned slowly, just in time to see Lachlan rushing to the boy, scooping him up into a fierce hug.
“It will be different this time,” Lachlan swore. “It will be different.”
Arran threw his arms around Lachlan, eyes peeking over his broad shoulders at her. She went to them then, throwing her arms around them both.
“I will nae allow them to take our home. This ends today.”
Lachlan’s words, determined and hard as steel, sent a shiver down Aila’s spine.
She could see in Arran’s face from the paleness of his face and the wide terror in his eyes that the boy was reliving that awful day when the English had last invaded their lands.
Arran had lost both of his parents and his sibling that day.
He had become a wandering orphan at merely seven, roaming the streets for years, just trying to survive.
She could see how horrified Arran was of ever having to do that again.
Aila couldn’t blame him. She was just as terrified at the thought.
“I want to fight with ye,” Arran told them both, picking his shoulders up and furrowing his brow with the same crease between them that Lachlan got whenever he was being stubborn.
“Och, my lad,” Lachlan cooed.
“I am nae a lad,” Arran argued. “I am a man, just like ye. I have been training hard. Christopher too. I want to fight. I want to defend our home, our family.”
Aila fought to blink back tears—a mixture of pride and sorrow for the boy’s bravery.
“Aye,” she soothed. “Ye have been training so verra hard. It will be a great help in keeping Elsie safe.”
She reached out a hand to the other two children who had rushed in only seconds before, eyes wild with fear.
“Come here, my loves,” she beckoned, her voice soft. “We are going to keep ye safe. We will nae let anything happen to ye. But ye must do as we ask. Aye?”
Elsie, tears already streaming down her face, nodded slowly. Christopher puffed up his chest and took her hand, determined to be a stout big brother. Lachlan set Arran down next to the other two and placed a hand on the shoulder of each of the boys.
“Swear to me that ye will stay in the safe room. Swear that ye will obey James’ parents. That ye will mind what they say. Swear to me that nay matter what ye hear, ye will nae come out.”
“I swear it, M’Laird,” Christopher answered, his voice steady.
“I swear it, Uncle Loch.”
Nodding, Lachlan looked to where James’ parents were waiting for their charges.
The older couple stepped forward and put a firm hand on each of the children.
Before she could stop herself, Aila reached out and wrapped the three of them all in a tight hug once more.
Elsie’s tears soaked the skin of her neck, while the boy’s fingers dug into her shoulders.
Aila never wanted to let go, never wanted to risk this being the last time she ever held these precious children. But she knew she must.
Her heart shattered as she peeled herself away from them, letting them be ushered deep into the heart of the castle.
The rest of the clan members were hidden throughout the castle rooms, tucked into the servants’ corridors and secret rooms. She knew that the children would do likewise.
It was the safest place for them. The next best thing she could do was fight with every ounce of her strength to ensure their future.
Lachlan’s warm and steady hand landed on her shoulder. She almost collapsed into tears at the heat of it, but steeled her heart.
“The time has come,” she told him. “We must join our people.”
Together, the Laird and Lady of the Kincaid Clan strode out of the castle, swords in hand.
As they stepped into the courtyard, the sun high in the sky, the doors to the castle slammed closed before the guards stationed inside barricaded it shut.
She glanced up to the ramparts, taking stock of the lines of archers already positioned, arrows loaded and pointing towards the forest edge.
Lachlan led her through the lines of soldiers, his feet never faltering. At the front, her horse, Knight, as well as Lachlan’s war horse stood waiting for them.
Despite the dread pooling in her belly, Aila felt a surge of pride. As far as she could see, men were lined and armed, waiting to defend their home. Allies and soldiers of their own, determined to do whatever it took to protect their land.
But the pride she felt at seeing the soldiers was nothing compared to the pride she felt when she watched Lachlan.
He moved through the crowd with grace, power, and ease.
The anguished father he had been only minutes before was gone.
His shoulders were squared, a claymore strapped to his back, glistening in the sun.
Daggers were strapped to his bare legs, his kilt moving with every powerful step he took.
As he moved, his head swiveled, being sure to lock eyes with the commanders that he passed.
He gave reassuring nods and stern glances to the fighters.
She knew as well as he did that they were all looking to him to lead them, looking to him to know everything would be all right. And Lachlan rose to the occasion.
He was every bit the proud Laird he had been raised to be. She could see in the set of his jaw the generations of leaders who had come before him, breeding into him a stalwart heart that would do whatever it took to defend his homeland. And she would do whatever it took to help him.
The air was thick with tension as Lachlan made it to his horse’s side and Aila to hers.
Soldiers shifted on their feet, adjusting the grip of their swords as they waited for the Baron’s army to break through the tree line.
Even the creatures around them seemed to anticipate the battle—the horses stood silently, the birds holding back their songs.
Aila notched her bow and pulled the arrow back tight, ready to let the pointed weapon fly at the first sight of their intruders.
She listened for signs of riders, of a great army headed their way.
But when the moment came, it was a sole rider that emerged from the woods.
It mattered little to Aila. She took aim, her fingers taut on the string, waiting for the clear shot.
“Dinnae shoot!”
Taryn’s cries nearly startled Aila into loosing the arrow, despite her shouts for the opposite.
“Lower yer weapons! Put down yer bows!”
Every order became more and more frantic as Taryn raced down the rampart stairs, sprinting towards Aila.
“What is going on?” Lachlan all but growled.
“Dinnae shoot her!”
“Her?”
Galloping towards them as fast as possible, Aila caught sight of the woman’s face, the wind having ripped back the hood of her cloak. Her hair whipped around her face, terror and exhaustion etched into the eyes that looked nearly identical to James’.
“Laura!”
The name on Taryn’s lips was all it took to send her into motion.