Page 51 of The Laird's Dangerous Prize
"With all respect, m'lady," Fergus said as he stood, "there is every need. We've nae seen a MacAlpin fight fer us in many a year." He gestured to her bow. "And ye have yer maither's skillwith the arrow. Lady Moira could split a hazelnut at a hundred paces, God rest her soul."
A flicker of emotion crossed Isolde's face. "Ye kenned me maither?"
"Aye, before she married yer faither. She hunted these very woods." Fergus's voice softened. "She would be proud tae see ye today."
Ciaran watched the exchange closely, noting how the villagers looked at Isolde—not just with respect due to her rank, but with genuine admiration. She had earned it with her own hands.
"What are we tae dae now, m'lady?" A village woman stepped forward, a sleeping child in her arms. "Wallace's men will return, and in greater numbers. We ken ye must return tae MacCraith castle, and we'll have nay protection."
Floyd nodded grimly. "We've sent word tae yer faither three times in the past month. Nay response, nay men sent." He hesitated, clearly reluctant to speak ill of his laird. "Some say his health is failing."
Ciaran noticed the pained expression that crossed Isolde's face—shame mingled with helpless frustration. He realized with sudden clarity that Alistair MacAlpin had been failing his people, whether through inability or neglect. The responsibility had fallen increasingly to Isolde, who could only do so much from within the castle walls, and without the power being a laird would offer.
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CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The last of the flames had been doused, leaving wisps of smoke curling into the darkening sky. Ciaran found Isolde crouched beside an injured villager, her hands gentle as she helped bind a gash on the man's leg.
"Are ye alright, lass?" he asked, kneeling beside her.
She looked up at him, soot streaking her cheek and exhaustion shadowing her blue eyes. "Aye, but these people need help. We cannae just leave them tae tend their wounds alone."
Ciaran nodded, rising to address the gathered villagers. "Right then. Men who can still lift buckets, help salvage what grain ye can from the storehouse. Women and children, gather in the kirk—we'll tend the wounded there." His voice carried the authority of command. "Those with cottages still standing, make room for yer neighbors. Nay one sleeps cold tonight."
For the next several hours, they worked side by side. Ciaran organized the men to shore up damaged roofs and clear debris, while Isolde moved among the injured with the calm efficiency of someone well-versed in caring for others. By the time full darkness fell, the immediate crisis had passed.
The taste of smoke lingered on Isolde's tongue, bitter as the memory of Wallace's men burning the village. Her hands, still smudged with soot despite scrubbing them in the village well, ached from helping to carry water buckets and tending to the wounded. Around them, the villagers worked to salvage what they could from the smoldering ruins.
Dark clouds had been gathering on the horizon throughout the afternoon, and now the first fat raindrops began to fall, hissing against the still-warm embers of what had been the village's grain stores.
"Me laird, me lady." Floyd approached them. "The storm's coming in fierce, and it'll be full dark soon. Ye shouldnae be traveling these roads at night, nae with Wallace's men still about."
Ciaran looked up at the darkening sky, then at Isolde. "Are there any accommodations we might use taenight?" Ciaran asked Floyd, though his eyes remained on Isolde's face.
"Me cottage is gone, but there is a good little tavern—" Floyd gestured toward the edge of the village where the houses had escaped the worst of the flames. "Old Angus and his wife,they've room enough, and they'd be honored tae shelter ye both properly."
Thunder rumbled overhead, and the rain began to fall in earnest. Isolde felt the cold drops sliding beneath her collar, and she saw Ciaran's jaw tighten with decision.
"We accept their hospitality," he said formally, then his voice softened as he looked at her again. "Ye're exhausted, lass. And soaked through."
