Page 57 of The Highlander’s Iron Hold

"There now," Colin said gently to the heavily pregnant woman watching anxiously from nearby. "Ye'll be back in yer own bed taenight."

The gratitude in the woman's eyes was unmistakable, and Morag felt her heart swell with pride for the man beside her.

The day wore on, exhausting but productive. By evening, most of the families were settled back in their homes, with repairs either completed or well underway. The village, which had looked like a battlefield that morning, hummed with life again.

"We'll camp here tonight," Colin announced to his men as the sun began to set. "I want tae be sure everyone's settled before we return tae the castle." The decision had been practical—too many of his people were still tired from the day's work, and traveling in darkness would be dangerous with Fraser's men potentially lurking in the forests.

"Hamish, have the men raise the tents around the village square," Colin commanded, gesturing to the open space. "Make a proper perimeter. MacLeod, ye see about setting up a watch rotation."

Within an hour, a small camp had been established in the village square. Following Colin's orders, his men had erected several sturdy canvas tents around the perimeter, while some chose to accept the villagers' offers of floor space in their newly repaired cottages.

Morag watched with interest as the men worked, noting how they moved with military precision even in this peaceful setting. Canvas was stretched taut, ropes secured with expert knots, and bedrolls arranged with careful spacing.

Morag wasn't surprised when he set up their bedroll near the others rather than claiming any special accommodation. She was surprised, however, by how much she enjoyed the simple meal shared around the campfire. Thick stew ladled from iron pots, fresh bread from the village ovens, and the easy banter between Colin and his men created an atmosphere unlike anything she'd experienced at the castle.

As the evening deepened, clouds began gathering overhead, and the first fat raindrops started to fall.

"Remember that storm last winter when we had tae shelter in that old barn?" Hamish was saying, his grizzled face lit by the firelight. "Thought the roof would come down on our heads."

"Aye, and ye snored so loud I thought it was thunder," one of the younger soldiers replied with a grin.

"Better than young Willelm here, who talked in his sleep about some lass back home," another added, earning laughter from the group.

Colin sat relaxed among his men, occasionally adding to the conversation but mostly just listening with what might have been contentment. This easy camaraderie was a side of him Morag had never seen—relaxed, almost boyish, free from the weight of constant command.

As the evening deepened, clouds began gathering overhead, dark and heavy with the promise of rain. The first fat raindrops started to fall just as the men were finishing their stories and preparing to seek shelter.

"Everyone inside!" Colin called out, and the camp quickly dispersed. Men hurried toward their tents, pulling canvas tight and securing ropes. Others jogged toward the cottages where villagers held doors open in welcome. The central fire hissed and steamed as raindrops struck the glowing embers

Colin reached for Morag's hand to help her. "Come," he said, gesturing toward the nearest tent. "We should get under cover before we're soaked through."

But Morag didn't move. Instead, she tilted her face up to the sky as the rain began in earnest, the droplets cool and refreshing against her skin.

"Everyone inside!" Niven called out, and the camp quickly dispersed as people sought shelter in cottages and hastily erected tents.

Colin started toward the nearest cottage, but Morag caught his hand.

"Wait," she said impulsively, tilting her face up to the sky as the rain began in earnest. "Could we stay out here just a bit longer?"

Around them, the village square had emptied except for the occasional figure dashing between buildings. The rain was picking up intensity, drumming against the tent canvas and splashing in growing puddles on the cobblestones. In the distance, Morag could hear laughter and voices from inside the cottages where people had taken shelter.

Colin looked at her as if she'd lost her mind, rain already beginning to darken his hair and dampen his shirt. But there was something in her expression that made him nod. "Ye want tae stay out in the rain?"

"Just fer a moment," she said, stepping away from the shelter of the tent's overhang. "When I was little, me faither used tae say that Highland rain was a blessing from the gods. That it washed away troubles and brought new beginnings."

Colin watched her turn her face to the sky, raindrops catching on her lashes and running down her cheeks like tears of joy. There was something almost magical about the moment—his practical, determined wife standing in the village square, arms outstretched to embrace the storm.

Their clothes were soaked within minutes. Morag laughed, spinning around with her arms outstretched, and Colin found himself grinning at her obvious joy.

"I love the water," Morag said as they swayed together, rain streaming down their faces.

"Tell me more," Colin said, drawing her closer as they moved in their makeshift dance. He couldn’t take his eyes off her.

"Me faither taught me tae swim before I could properly walk," Morag continued, her eyes bright with memory. "He used tae say I was half selkie, the way I took tae the water."

"Sounds like a good childhood," Colin said softly.

"Aye, it was. Even when times were hard, we had each other. Me faither used tae say that family was the only wealth that truly mattered." She looked up at Colin through the rain. "I think he will like ye."