Page 56 of The Highlander’s Defiant Bride

Chapter Eighteen

The gates had long since closed behind Kenzie, Uncle Alastair, and the chosen warriors, their departure leaving the courtyard strangely hollow. The echo of hooves had faded to nothing, and now only the banners stirred in the breeze, snapping softly above the stone walls.

Cameron stood unmoving on the steps, his gaze fixed on the empty road beyond the gates. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword, knuckles white against the leather. Destiny lingered at his side, watching him as the silence stretched.

“They will be safe,” she said gently, though she could hear the doubt in her own voice.

Cameron’s jaw clenched. “Part of me says I should have gone,” he admitted. “If something turns on the road, if the king doubts our intent . . .” He broke off, exhaling sharply. “But Foulis needs its laird. If the Mackenzies strike while I am gone, there will be no one to hold this place.” He glanced towards the darkened walls, already counting sentries and weak points. “Alastair and Kenzie are capable. I have trusted them with my life before. Now I must trust them with this.”

Destiny laid a hand on his arm, gentle but sure. “You chose rightly. You protect your people by staying. Let them carry your voice to the king while you stand guard here.”

“I should send a message to the Mackenzies, informing them that there is no longer a need to attack with their kinsman gone.” He released a heavy sigh. “Though I should wait until I am convinced Kenzie and Alastair are at or near the king.”

“That is wise,” Destiny replied with a smile, then looked around the courtyard.

The clansfolk who had gathered to watch the departure were drifting away, their faces sombre, their shoulders weighed down with worry. A heaviness hung over the castle still, one that even sunlight could not banish.

“Cameron,” she said softly, “our people are anxious. They have seen the prisoner taken away, and they know the Mackenzies circle us still. Fear will fester if we do nothing.” She hesitated, then drew a breath. “The day is fair, and the chance of attack is small. What if we gave them something else to think about? A gathering in the garden, perhaps a picnic with food, music, laughter. A reminder of life beyond conflict.”

His brows rose, surprise flickering across his face. “A picnic?”

“Aye.” Destiny’s eyes brightened as she spoke. “It need not be grand. Bread, ale, the music of the pipes. The children can play, the men and women can breathe without fear pressing down their throats. It would strengthen their hearts to see you walking among them, not only as their laird, but as their kinsman.”

Cameron studied her for a long moment, the corner of his mouth twitching as though torn between disbelief and admiration.

Finally, he gave a short laugh, rough and low. “A laird who sets aside his sword for a picnic. My father would call it folly.”

Destiny’s smile softened. “And yet your people would call it hope.”

The words struck him deep in his core, and slowly he nodded.

The tightness in his jaw eased, replaced by something quieter, steadier. “Very well. Send word to the kitchens. We will take to the gardens at midday. Let them eat, let them laugh, let them remember they are more than the wars we fight.”

Her heart lifted, warmth blooming in her chest. “They will thank you for it, Cameron. More than you know.”

He looked at her then, truly looked, and for an instant the weight of his obligation to his clan seemed to slip from his shoulders. “Nay,” he said quietly. “They will thank you.”

Destiny lowered her gaze, the heat rising in her cheeks, but inside her heart soared. For all his strength and burdens, he listened to her, trusted her. And in that trust, she felt her love for him deepen until it nearly stole her breath.

Together, they turned back towards the keep, the sun climbing higher, carrying with it the promise of something brighter than fear.

By midday, the meadow beyond the castle walls was alive with sound. Long tables had been carried down from the hall and laden with loaves of bread, wheels of cheese, smoked fish, and jugs of ale. Children darted between the benches, their laughter ringing in the warm spring air. The pipes began to play, joined by the steady beat of a drum, and the sombre mood that had clung to the people since the prisoner’s capture began to loosen, replaced with cautious cheer.

Destiny stood at the edge of the gathering, the wind tugging playfully at her hair. She watched as a group of women spread blankets for the younger children, while the men passed around tankards and spoke in voices no longer weighed down by fear. It was a simple thing, this meal in the sunshine, but the change it wrought was unmistakable.

Cameron joined her, his presence drawing glances and murmurs of respect from the clansfolk. He surveyed the scene with arms folded across his chest, his expression unreadable at first. Then, as a child’s shrill laughter rang out, the corner of his mouth softened into a faint smile.

“You were right,” he said quietly, so only she could hear. “They needed this.”

Destiny turned to him, her voice gentle. “And so did you.”

His gaze lingered on her for a moment before sweeping back to the meadow. When one of the older men raised a tankard in his direction, Cameron lifted a hand in acknowledgment. A ripple of cheers followed, and for the first time in many days, the clan’s spirits rose higher than their fears.

A group of children broke into a game of chase, weaving through the legs of their elders until one tumbled at Cameron’s feet. The boy scrambled upright, wide-eyed, but Cameron bent down, lifted him easily to his feet, and ruffled his hair. The people around them laughed.

Destiny’s heart swelled as she watched Cameron. He was no cruel, thoughtless butcher. He was a shield, a leader, a man worth following.

As the pipes quickened their tune, a circle formed for dancing. A few young women tugged Destiny forward with bright smiles, urging her to join. She laughed, protesting at first, but soon found herself swept into the circle, her skirts swirling as she matched the rhythm. When she glanced back, Cameron was watching her, his hazel eyes intent, his expression softened with something that made her pulse stumble before his expression changed, becoming guarded once more.