Lachlan bowed, honoring the parley customs while suppressing his impatience. Turning to his brothers, theirunspoken vow united them: Ailis must be found, regardless of obstacles or adversaries.
*
Ailis McAfee saton the only chair in her tower prison. At the sight of the distant hills, she yearned for her lost freedom. The heavy door creaked open, breaking the silence.
Ian Sinclair appeared in the doorway, demanding attention despite any attempted charm. “Ye must ken how much I desire ye, Ailis,” he began, a certain hardness underlining his words. “Will ye no’ do me the honor of becoming me wife?”
“I will not, Ian Sinclair,” she replied, standing firm. “Not today, nor any other day.”
His jaw clenched, irritation crossing his features. “Then here ye shall remain until ye see reason.”
“I do see reason. I see that ye have taken me against me will. Me father’s men will end ye.” Ailis spat decisively at his feet.
*
Hours passed beforeIan returned with gifts: a bouquet of wildflowers and a meal carefully prepared. He presented them as if they could soften her heart.
“See here, lass, how deep me love for ye runs,” he began. “I canna let ye go. An’ I’ll do what I must to protect yer kin. Dinnae make me cause their suffering.”
Ailis looked at the flowers with disdain and stomped on them without a word.
“Ye dinnae know how to love,” she declared, standing above the crushed flowers. “I will not be bartered for the safety of me clan.”
The tension between them was palpable, a battle of wills with freedom at stake. Despite her heartache for her people, her spirit remained unbroken within the tower that had become her prison.
As the sun cast long shadows across the tower chamber’s stone floor, Ailis watched Ian Sinclair’s silhouette darken her doorway. His frame was tense with determination, his hair catching the last light as if crowning him with a halo he didn’t deserve.
“Sweet Ailis,” he began, voice fervent but eyes cold, “I desire nothing more than to have ye as me bride.”
He advanced toward her without invitation, the air between them charged with tension. The weight of Ailis’s plight was heavier than ever. She could see his knife tucked into a scabbard in his belt. If she could just reach it, she knew she could best him.
“Ye know this, dinnae ye?” His words were more plea than question as he reached out and cupped her face.
Before she could protest, his lips claimed hers with forceful intent. But Ailis McAfee had a core of steel forged by love for her clan and longing for freedom.
With fierce indignation, she stomped on Ian’s foot. His grip faltered as he grunted, their lips still locked.
Then, with untamed spirit, she bit down on his lip. The taste of iron flooded her mouth as blood welled up from the wound. Ian stumbled back, hand flying to his wounded mouth, eyes ablaze with shock and something akin to respect.
“Ye may take me freedom for now, Ian Sinclair,” Ailis declared despite her racing heart. “But ye’ll never take me will. Me soul belongs to me and the McAfee clan. Remember that.”
As Ian touched his lip and saw his bloodied fingers, her words hung in the air—undeniable and powerful. In that tower room where personal desires clashed with political plans, Ailisstood unyielding. Her duty to herself and her people outweighed any forced affection he might offer.
*
Lachlan McClain’s bootssank into the damp earth, his brothers flanking him as they strode through the Sinclair lands. The morning mist clung to the rolling hills, concealing the quiet village near the McAfee border. Urgency pulsed through Lachlan with each step.
“Have ye seen a lass by the name of Ailis? She would have been with two Sinclair soldiers,” he asked, scanning each villager for recognition. “She has dark hair and green eyes, and stands about this tall.” He held his hand up just above his shoulder.
Alisdair approached with precision. “Aye, we must ken where she has been taken.”
Brodie canvassed gently, probing the villagers.
Finally, a widow emerged. Her hollowed eyes met Lachlan’s. “I mayhap ken where the lass be,” she whispered, too afraid to speak with them.
Lachlan leaned in. “Tell us, and I will grant any boon within me power.”
“Promise me,” she implored, “a place ’neath the McAfee name, far from the laird and his sons.”
