Page 13 of Wanted By the Wicked Highlander

Three days into Sebastian’s deadline, and the castle had already rearranged itself around his presence so thoroughly that Alba sometimes turned a corner expecting to see her own home, only to find something that looked almost like it, but was not quite. His maps hung on her stone walls. His men shouted down from her scaffolding. His supply count had already replaced hers in the south storeroom ledger, written in a different hand with darker, bolder ink.

And here I am,she thought with grim clarity, standing in the village square defending his people to mine.

She pushed through the heavy timber castle gate and kept walking.

The sensible voice at the back of her mind, the one she usually ignored and usually regretted ignoring, pointed out that she had not defended them for his sake. She had done it because it was right.

Because those women in the square had lost everything and deserved better than to stand in the cold and be resented for it. Because clan survival was not a sentiment, it was arithmetic; two groups who could not share a well in November would never survive February.

She knew all of that. It was stillhispeople she had stood up for.

She climbed the frost-slick castle steps to find Philomena, determined not to think about him further.

* * *

Sebastian found the problem with the eastern drainage ditch at half past noon.

He was walking the outer wall with Hamish, conducting the systematic military assessment he completed within the first week of taking any new position and examining every wall, every gate, and every point where water moved or should move but did not.

He crouched beside the northeast corner, his leather boots grinding against the frost, and pulled a massive fistful of compacted leaves and broken stone from the blocked ditch. It was sodden, deep, and heavy. Two seasons of absolute neglect at minimum, backing water steadily against the foundation stones in a way that would begin undermining the mortar by spring if left alone.

He dug his calloused hand deeper into the muck and found something even worse. Three seasons, maybe.

“Get two men on this today,” he said, wiping his hand on a cloth. “Clear it and re-channel before the ground freezes hard.”

“Aye.” Hamish crouched beside him, squinted at the dark water line on the stone above the blockage, and stood again. “I spoke with O’Connor this mornin’.”

Sebastian straightened to his full height. “Her man-at-arms?”

“Aye. Capable lad. Careful. Kens when to push and when to hold. That kind of loyalty isnae bought, it’s earned.” Hamish fell into step beside him as they resumed their slow march along the ramparts. “He told me the southern barns are nearly repaired. Sheep pens should hold till spring without additional reinforcement.”

Sebastian nodded. “The families will need them.”

Hamish glanced at him. “Still four days out, ye think?”

“Three, if the road holds.” He looked out over the glen. “The women, the bairns, the old ones, they left two days after us. I wanted the soldiers here first, the walls assessed, the worst of the repairs begun before they arrived.” A pause. “They shouldnae come to chaos.”

“They’ll come to a castle with a lady who’d rather see us gone,” Hamish said, without particular judgment.

“Aye.” Sebastian kept walking. “Which is why the walls need to be ready before she has more to argue about.”

Sebastian nodded silently. He had already walked the southern fields himself at first light, long before the rest of the household had stirred. It was good grazing land. Well-maintained fencing ran to the lower boundary. It was the kind of work that did not announce itself with a flourish; it simply existed.

“Good land,” Hamish murmured, looking out over the glen. “Strong walls.”

“Aye.”

The snow had softened to a fine, nearly invisible fall, more felt on the skin than seen. Below the wall walk, the village appeared small and quiet, with gray smoke drifting from about a dozen stone chimneys in slender columns swaying sideways in the wind. From up here, it looked peaceful, just like the Highlands always seem from a distance. All that harsh, indifferent beauty masking whatever struggles lay beneath.

“Some of the men are already callin’ it Blackthorn Castle,” Hamish said. He spoke carefully, delivering the words in the exact low tone he used when he knew something would land badly. “And it hasnae been two full days.”

Sebastian’s jaw tightened until a dull ache bloomed in his back teeth. “They’ll stop.”

“I will tell them.” Hamish paused, letting his boots click against the stone, which meant he was far from finished. “Strong lady, too.”

“Hamish.”

“Only sayin’ what I observe.”