Page 74 of The Highlander’s Defiant Bride

He looked at her, something like wonder in his eyes. “Nay,” he said softly, reaching for her hand. “We did.”

He pulled her close, his forehead resting against hers, the world around them dissolving into a hush that usually follows a storm. After a long moment, the silence faltered, and the soft cries of the wounded rose above the wind.

Destiny pulled back and gazed into Cameron’s eyes. “I must help them.”

He released her. “We will help all the fallen.”

Destiny hurried to the side of a fallen Munro and knelt beside him, pressing her hands over a wound in his shoulder. “You will be all right,” she murmured, her voice wavering but firm. “Hold still. Help will come.”

The soldier’s eyes fluttered open, dazed but alive. She tore a strip off her ruined skirt and bound it tight, just as she had done in the infirmary days ago when they had first defended Foulis. She remembered how helpless she had felt then, how uncertain. She did not feel that way now.

Now she belonged here.

Kenzie rode up the slope towards them, his plaid torn, his grin bright despite the blood drying along his jaw. “The field’s ours, brother,” he called, reining in beside them. “The king’s men have the Mackenzie laird in custody, and what’s left of his men are laying down arms.”

Cameron nodded, too drained for triumph. “And Gunn?”

Kenzie’s smile faded. “Found near the tree line, trying to flee with what coin he could carry. The king’s captain has him under guard. They mean to take him south to Inverness to stand trial with the Mackenzies.”

Destiny’s breath caught. She looked towards the base of the hill where a cluster of prisoners knelt. Her father was among them, hands bound, head bowed but unbroken. When he lifted his face and their gazes met, something in her heart twisted, grief, anger, pity all warring within her.

He looked smaller now, diminished. The proud tilt of his chin was gone; the defiance that once ruled his every word had hollowed into silence.

Cameron’s voice was quiet beside her. “He will answer to the king, Destiny. Justice will see to him.”

“I know,” she whispered. “And yet, part of me still grieves. He is my father.”

Cameron turned towards her, his expression softening. “Aye. And you gave him more mercy than he ever deserved.”

She nodded, blinking back tears. “Perhaps. And I will not let his choices define me anymore. I have seen what true strength is, and what love can build, not destroy.”

Cameron reached out, brushing a streak of dirt from her cheek. “You have the heart of a Munro now, Destiny. Fierce, loyal, unyielding.”

Kenzie leaned from his saddle, grinning broadly. “If the two of you are done wooing, the king’s captain awaits you below, Cameron. He will want to hear how a Highland laird managed to hold a ridge against twice his number.”

Cameron gave a dry chuckle and squeezed Destiny’s hand. “Come then, my love. Let them see the woman who turned the tide of battle.”

Cameron’s men had won the field, though the cost was written on every face Destiny passed. Around them, the survivors worked together; Munro, Ross, Sutherland, and even a few Mackenzies who had thrown down their arms treated the wounded, recovered the dead, and gathered the prisoners. Destiny made her way down the slope, pausing often to help where she could, pressing bandages into hands and whispering prayers for those beyond saving.

When she and Cameron reached her father, two soldiers stepped aside, unsure if she wished to speak. She stopped a few paces away. Her father lifted his head, eyes hollow, as if he barely recognised her.

“So,” he rasped, his voice thin. “You stand with them, then.”

“I stand with those who protect, not destroy,” she said quietly.

His gaze flicked to Cameron. “You think he’s any different? A man who kills for power?”

She shook her head. “Nay. He is a man who fights for his people. There is a difference you never learned.”

Her father gave a bitter laugh. “And what did love buy you, Destiny?”

She glanced around the field at the women treating the wounded, at the wounded being carried to safety, at the children of Foulis reunited with their fathers. “Everything,” she said simply.

Alexander Gunn looked away. The soldiers led him off, his figure growing smaller until he disappeared into the crowd.

Destiny stood very still for a moment, then turned back towards the ridge. The clouds parted, letting the sun shine through, as though it, too, knew a new day had begun. Destiny pressed her hand to her chest, feeling the small strip of plaid beneath her bodice, and whispered a quiet prayer.

Thank you for this mercy. For truth. For freedom.