Page 61 of The Heather Wife
“I’ll risk it,” Calum said, voice rough but steady. “What word from the patrols?”
“All quiet. We’ve scouts sweeping the ridge in pairs. Katherine’s set the women to the north parapet till midnight.”
“Good. Keep them armed—even when all seems calm. The women’ve keener eyes than half the men I’ve trained. Raiders like the quiet hours best.”
Duncan hesitated. “The rider returned from Glenbrae. Thought ye’d want the news first.”
Calum’s shoulders straightened. “Aye? Speak.”
“He arrived back last night. Glenbrae’s patrols found no sign of raiders—no tracks, no camps, no bodies. Their scouts searched the southern glens and the old pass. Nothing.”
Calum exhaled slowly. “So they’ve vanished into the hills.”
“Aye. Or starved tryin’.” Duncan paused. “Eoin sends his thanks for the warnin’—and his steel, should Strathloch call for it. And… there’s word of Niall and Mairi as well. They arrived safe. Their healer helped deliver a strong, healthy bairn. They bid ye share their thanks.”
Calum’s expression softened. “Good news, at last.” His voice dropped, quieter. “I’m glad they’ve found safety—and a place to start again.”
“Aye,” Duncan said. “They’re still no’ permitted inside Glenbrae’s walls, but they’ve made themselves useful to the crofters in the lower glen—helpin’ where the healers fall short, tradin’ what they can. Seems they’ve found their place after all.”
That last line eased something tight in Calum’s chest. “Then there’s still trust between us,” he said quietly. “Good. Keep a watch nonetheless. I’ve seen men vanish before only to come back worse than ghosts.”
“Aye, my laird.” Duncan scratched at his beard, then grinned. “Ye’ve a wife who could frighten devils from the gate. I doubt we’ll see trouble soon.”
Calum’s mouth twitched. “Mind your tongue before she hears ye.”
Duncan chuckled and started to turn, then stopped, snapping his fingers. “Ah—nearly forgot.”
Calum arched a brow. “Aye?”
“Eoin MacAlasdair sent more than a letter of thanks,” Duncan said. “He’s asked leave to visit Strathloch over the Yule tide. Says it’s time the clans shared peace in person.”
Calum stilled, brows drawing together. “Did he now.”
“Aye. I told the rider ye’d want time to think on it—and to speak with Lady Sorcha first.”
Calum nodded slowly, the thought settling heavy but not unwelcome. “Aye. Best it come from her.”
Duncan inclined his head. “As ye say, my laird.” He gave a faint grin. “I’ll tell the men to keep the road clear in case ye grant it.”
Calum gave a brief nod, his thoughts already far ahead—to what Sorcha might say, and how she might take such news.
Duncan turned toward where Katherine stood among their kin, overseeing the day’s drills. He moved to join her, hisvoice rising as he began shouting new orders across the yard. The sound carried—steel ringing, men drilling, women stringing bows. Life returning.
Sorcha caught sight of Calum and strode to meet him halfway, brow arched. “Ye should be abed.”
“I’ve had my fill of lying still,” he said. “The healer swore the sling would keep me honest.”
Her gaze dropped briefly to the bound arm, then to his face. “It suits ye less than command.”
“I’ll take that as praise.” His smile was small but real. “The rider’s returned. Glenbrae’s seen no sign of the raiders.”
Her steps faltered. “My father sent word?”
“Aye.” Calum studied her expression, the flicker that passed through it—relief, disbelief, something softer underneath. “He thanked us for the warning. Said if Strathloch bleeds, Glenbrae bleeds too.”
Sorcha looked past him toward the frost-bright hills. “He’s a man of his word. He’ll keep the border safe.”
Calum nodded. “Aye. And now he knows ye’re safe, too.”
