Page 25 of The Highlander’s Defiant Bride

She took a breath, steadied by the certainty that had taken root in her. “I do not wish to stand idle while others prepare for war. I am loyal to you, Cameron. Tell me how I can help keep your people safe.”

Cameron studied her in silence, his gaze deliberate, as though measuring not her courage, but her judgement. “I do not doubt your desire to help,” he said at last. “But for now, all we can do is wait.”

She nodded, relief and uncertainty tangling in her chest. “Thank you,” she said quietly, “for believing I meant no harm.”

His expression did not soften. “Do not thank me yet,” he replied. “What lies ahead will demand more than good intentions. Loyalty is restraint. It is judgement earned under pressure.” His voice lowered, firm and unyielding. “If you ever turn that same urgency against me, the cost will be high.”

The warning should have frightened her.

Instead, it felt like a challenge she was only just beginning to understand.

Her heart pounded, but she did not look away. “Then teach me where the lines are,” she said quietly. “So I do not cross them in ignorance.”

A brief glint in his eyes hinted at admiration, though it was laced with frustration. He said nothing more, only gesturing for his Uncle Alastair to return. But as Cameron turned back to his uncle and his men, Destiny caught the briefest look over his shoulder, sharp and lingering, as if seeing her in a new and dangerous light.

*

Night fell heavy and cold over Foulis Castle. The torches along the wall threw narrow blades of light into the dark, but the fields beyond lay shrouded in darkness. Cameron stood on the battlements, arms braced against the rough stone, his gaze scanning the hills. His Uncle Alastair hovered nearby, restless.

“You really think the Mackenzies might attack tonight?” Alastair asked.

Cameron’s jaw flexed. “The messenger should have returned by now. Whether the Mackenzies stir or not remains to be seen.” His tone was clipped, the words hard-edged. “But I will not risk our people on silence.”

Alastair inclined his head. “Then we send scouts?”

“Aye. At once. Quiet and quick. I will not have the enemy know we are watching.”

Within the hour, riders slipped from the gates like shadows, vanishing into the night. Cameron remained on the wall long after, the cold wind tugging at his hair, his thoughts circling back to Destiny. She had stood before him in the hall with fire in her eyes, speaking of loyalty, of wanting to help. She had not faltered even when he had pressed her, even when his words had turned sharp. Reckless she might be, but fearless as well.

He did not like how much that unsettled him.

By dawn, the scouts returned. Mud streaked their boots, their breath steaming in the chill air. One dismounted quickly, bowing before Cameron.

“M’laird,” he said, voice taut with urgency. “The Mackenzies gather two valleys over. A score of men at least, perhaps more. They’ve set campfires, but they’re keeping to the hills. They wait for something.”

For a long moment, Cameron said nothing, his gaze fixed on the horizon. The truth lay heavy in his chest. Destiny had been right. Or at least, not wrong. The Mackenzies had indeed begun to move.

Cameron dismissed the scouts with a curt nod, his mind already racing. The Mackenzies were stirring, just as the prisoner had hinted. Whether it was bluster or truth, he could not yet say, but he would not leave Foulis unprepared.

After alerting his men to the danger, Cameron strode back into the keep, boots striking hard against the stone floors. When he entered the great hall, his gaze landed on Destiny at once. She sat with Sorcha near the hearth, her mending in her lap, though the needle quivered slightly between her fingers.

“You have news?” Her voice wavered as her face grew pale.

Cameron stopped before her, letting his shadow fall across her work. He turned his eyes to Sorcha. “Might I speak to my wife alone?”

Sorcha, wise enough not to argue, set her own mending aside. With one last glance at Destiny, she rose and left them.

He took her place, lifting the abandoned shirt she had been repairing from the chair and setting it aside. The hearth light threw Destiny’s face into glow and shadow, and it unsettled him more than he cared to admit. “We may have trouble,” he said.

Her gaze snapped to his.

“The Mackenzies are moving,” he continued, keeping his voice even. “I do not yet know if they come to speak or to fight.”

He saw the flicker of fear cross her face, and then something else. Resolve. She did not question him. War was his burden. She knew that.

“I want you to remain within the castle,” he said. “If they come, I will have you safe behind stone.”

She did not give him the answer he wanted. Her silence stretched, thoughtful, neither yielding nor refusing.