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She shook her head to dispel the memory.

“He used to be such a happy young lad,” Gavin continued. “His laughter once filled the Great Hall.”

She had seen hints of that laughter, like prints on the snow, melting too quickly.

“I remember he used to vanish for hours with his horse. No one kent where he went.”

Isla clenched her jaw. She remembered the hidden spot, the sea at their feet, the silence like a warm blanket over them. She bit her lip, suddenly feeling the urge to cry.

“Lady Moira told me that he was married once before.”

Gavin nodded, a sad expression clouding his face.

“Lady Catherine,” he said. “It was an arranged marriage. Both of them were so young, but they got along.”

Isla felt stupid comparing herself to a woman who had been dead for so long, and yet she couldn’t help how others saw her as the new Lady MacLeod.

“She was graceful,” Gavin continued. “She had a sharp wit and a quiet disposition. She commanded respect without trying.”

Without trying.

Isla had fought for every little ounce of respect she had gotten from the clan.

“And no one respected her more than Alisdair,” Gavin sighed. “It was no love match, but he never mistreated her.”

And most probably never pretended she didnae exist.

Isla barely registered what her hands were doing anymore, numb from the whole conversation. But it seemed that Gavin was determined to undo her completely.

“Then the massacre happened.”

She frowned and glanced at him. He looked devastated. It must have been so hard for all of them to witness the loss of their Laird and Lady, as well as the heir’s wife and future.

“I understand it was hard on ye all,” she said softly.

“Aye, but nae as hard as on Alisdair. For the rest of us, it was a tragic loss. For Alisdair, it was a burden he carries still.” Gavin looked at her, as if imploring her to understand. “He feels responsible for what happened. He believes to the depths of his soul that had he been there, he could have stopped it.”

“Or he would have been killed too, leaving the clan unprotected.”

“I believe that dyin’ with them would have been better for him.”

Isla gasped, clenching the herbs in her hands.

“If it wasnae for the clan, he would have given up long ago,” Gavin said.

Later, after she had hung the bundles of herbs in the stillroom to dry, she started making a list of things to be done before the first heavy rain. She remembered the pregnant women in the villages and added drying raspberry leaves.

She was crossing the courtyard, already dreaming of a bath and her comfortable bed. Exhausting herself to sleep was a solid plan, but she wondered how long she could carry on like this.

That was when she saw the silhouette of a man crossing to the main entrance. The light from the torches cast shadows on his face, but she recognized him regardless. The hulking frame, the predator’s gait, the wide shoulders, the untamed mane, the very air of command around him—it was Alisdair.

Her heart fluttered in her chest, and her breath hitched in her throat. It was as if someone had dropped her in the ice-cold waters of the loch.

They were alone in the courtyard at this hour, and that fact made her cheeks flush.

Then he noticed her.

He drew to a halt, his shoulders stiffening. She still couldn’t make out his face, but she heard a low grunt, some muttered word she couldn’t quite catch, though its meaning was clear enough.