“Does he need to follow so closely?” Fiona asked, her frustration simmering beneath the surface.
“Aye, your father’s orders,” Alisdair replied, his jaw clenched as if the words pained him to speak. “He believes it prudent after… everything.”
“Prudent or suffocating?” Fiona countered, her dry wit failing to mask the longing for freedom that echoed in her heart. She wanted to be alone with Alisdair. For with a witness, they couldn’t kiss or touch.
“Both, perhaps,” Alisdair conceded, his hand brushing against hers in a fleeting caress. “But we must bear it, for now. Duty demands vigilance.”
“Then let us be vigilant together,” Fiona declared, her resolve fortifying with each step. She felt the weight of the future pressing upon her, the delicate balance between love and leadership.
“Until the dawn breaks on our wedding day,” Alisdair vowed.
“Until then,” Fiona agreed.
*
Fiona stood onthe stone balcony, her gaze fixed upon the distant hills. The cool breeze whispered through the courtyard below, carrying with it the faint murmur of the McClain men as they retired from their training. She wrapped her arms around herself, a shiver creeping down her spine that had little to do with the chill in the air.
“Three days,” she murmured.
The heavy sound of footsteps heralded Alisdair’s approach. She turned to find him framed in the doorway, his broad shoulders casting a long shadow that reached out to her across the flagstones.
“Alisdair,” she greeted.
“Ye shouldna be out here alone. The night grows cold,” he cried, crossing the distance between them with purposeful strides. He wrapped her in his embrace, trying to warm her with his caress.
“Perhaps, but the solitude grants me time away from watchful eyes,” Fiona replied.
“Even mine?” Alisdair asked.
“Especially yours,” she teased, though her smile faltered as she regarded him. He was her chosen, yet even he could not shield her from the weight of expectation that clung to her.
“Ye ken I wouldna ever let harm befall ye, Fiona.” He brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, the gesture achingly tender.
“I know,” she whispered, leaning into him. “It is not your protection I doubt, but the freedom to live beyond its confines. I told Malcolm repeatedly that he should surrender to save his men, and that you and yours would best them. I was right, but his men died alongside him.”
“Only a few more nights,” he assured her, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw. “And then—”
“And then I am truly yours,” Fiona finished. The words were a vow, an anchor amidst the uncertainty that had come to define her days.
“Truly mine,” he echoed, his voice low with a reverence that matched the solemnity of the moment.
Their lips met in both affirmation and defiance. Time halted, the world narrowing to the point of their connection, the silent pledge of hearts entwined.
As they parted, Fiona’s fingers lingered on his cheek, reluctant to break the contact that offered solace. “I cannot wait for the day when we may be together without the need for guards or permissions,” she quietly confessed.
“Nor can I,” Alisdair agreed.
He kissed her forehead gently before stepping back. “Goodnight, my fierce warrior,” he crooned.
“Goodnight, my heart,” Fiona replied, watching as he retreated into the keep, lingering on his retreating form until he vanished from sight.
*
It was wellpast midnight when Fiona awoke to a sound from outside her room. She knew it could well be the guards her father had acting as watchmen for her and her sisters, but it felt off to her. Grabbing her dirk, she stepped outside the room, ready to protect herself if needed.
Instead of one of the guards, she spotted Alisdair standing outside her room, deep in thought. She turned one way and then the other before launching herself at him, wrapping her arms around him and holding him close. It was truly the first time she’d felt alone with him since the Sinclairs had taken her.
Alisdair took her into his arms and kissed her. No words were necessary.
