Ye asked in yer last letter what sort of man me husband truly is. I think I have finally begun tae understand the answer. He is nae an easy man, nor a particularly gentle one when it comes tae matters of duty. But he is fiercely loyal tae those under his protection, and the loyalty his people show him in return speaks louder than anything else I might write.
Ye would approve of him, I believe. In fact, I have every intention of bringing him with me when I come tae see ye.
Aye, ye read that correctly. We will visit ye soon. Until then, please keep yerself safe and write back as soon as ye can.
Yer loving sister,
Margaret
Margaret set the quill down and read the letter over once more. The words felt calm, almost ordinary. A small smile touched her lips as she folded the parchment carefully and sealed it with wax.
Very soon.
She rose from the chair and crossed the chamber toward the opposite window. Margaret rested her hands lightly against the sill and looked out. The western cliffs rose sharply from the water several miles away, their rocky edges catching the afternoon light. It was then that she saw the smoke, a thin dark plume rising from the far coastal ridge.
Margaret blinked once, desperately hoping that she was not seeing right. Then, another plume rose beside it. Her breath caught. Those cliffs overlooked the small fishing settlements scattered along the shore.
Without thinking she turned from the window and hurried for the door. Moments later, Margaret was moving quickly down the corridor. Servants stepped aside as she passed.
“Me lady?—”
But she did not slow. She nearly collided with Domhnall turning the corner near the stair. He caught her shoulders instinctively before she could stumble.
“Margaret—”
“There’s smoke.” Her words were quick and breathless. “From the western cliffs.”
Domhnall had that grave expression on his face. “I ken.”
Margaret blinked. “Ye’ve seen it?”
“A rider brought word minutes ago.”
She noticed then that he was already dressed for travel, wearing boots, his sword belt and his riding cloak thrown over his shoulders. Margaret glanced toward the stair.
“Ye’re leaving.”
“A small escort,” he confirmed. “We’re riding tae the fishing settlement near the southern cove.”
Margaret’s stomach tightened. “The one along the cliffs?”
“Aye.”
Domhnall stepped slightly past her. Margaret caught his arm.
“I’m coming. MacGregor may be attacking the coast,” she told him something he had to already know.
“That is precisely why ye are staying here,” he pointed out.
“Domhnall,” she spoke his name in a tone that allowed no backtalk. “I want tae be by yer side. I want tae help.”
“Ye are,” he said, placing his hands on her shoulders, as if to keep her in place, “by staying here, where it is safe.”
“Nay, it is safe whereyeare,” she corrected him.
Domhnall rubbed a hand across his brow. “This is emotional blackmail, ye ken.”
Margaret’s mouth curved faintly. “I dae.”
