“How do I make her see that she need no’ fear me?” Albert asked his father. They were sitting opposite one another at Marcum’s desk in his private room. Though the hour was quite late, the sun still shone through the open window enough to negate the need for many candles.

“Ye can no’ make her do anythin’,” Marcum replied. “All ye can do is show her. Let her see ye mean her no harm, that ye want only her happiness. The rest be up to her.”

‘Twasn’t the answer he’d been hoping for. His shoulders sagged in defeat. Running a hand through his blonde hair, he let out a frustrated breath. “I have been doin’ that.” And it did not appear to be working.

“Och! Albert! ’Tis only been a fortnight. Ye can no’ rush these things, no’ after what the lass has endured. Ye must have patience.”

Patience? He let lose another heavy sigh before taking a sip of fine whisky.

“Son,” Marcum said as he leaned forward. “If ye do no’ possess the patience ye need, then ye will never earn her trust or her heart.”

Knowing full well that his father spoke from personal experience and therefore possessed more knowledge and wisdom than any other man he knew, did not help lessen the sting. With a near desperation—and for reasons he could not begin to explain to himself let alone another person—he needed her to trust him. He wanted nothing more than to take all her pain and misery away, to help her to see she had a brighter future. “I only want her to feel safe. No’ just with me, but with all of us.”

Marcum smiled thoughtfully from behind the desk. “She will, son. It will simply take time.” He sipped at his whisky, studying his son closely for a long while. “Are ye willin’ to wait?”

From what his father told him, it could be years before Laurin felt safe enough to allow him entry into her heart. Years. “It be true, that I be no’ gettin’ any younger,” he answered.

“None of us are,” Marcum replied dryly.

There was not another young lass on their island, within their clan, who had ever made his heart thrum so feverishly against his chest. Laurin’s beauty, her smile, were rivaled by none. From the first moment he’d set eyes on her, he simply knew. Knew to his bones, that she was the one. He’d settle for no other. “Aye, I can wait. As long as she needs.”

Marcum quirked a questioning brow. “Years if need be?”

He gave a curt nod of his head before downing the last of his whisky. “A lifetime if she needs it.”

Laurin spent the remainder of her day and night thinking over her conversation with Kathryn. Her outlook on life had improved somewhat, but she still possessed a good deal of lingering doubts about any future she may have as a wife or mother.

Sleep was easier that night; easier than it had been in years. She was thankful that in this part of the world, the sun rarely set for more than a few short hours. Terrified of the complete darkness, the sunlight was a welcome respite to those nightmare plagued nights she’d endured in the past.

The following morn, she woke feeling much better. Some of the burden she’d been carrying around like an anvil upon her back had been lifted. After scrubbing her face, washing her teeth and braiding her long, blonde hair, she donned the pretty green dress Josephine had given her and headed down the stairs to break her fast.

As it had been since the day they’d arrived, the room was filled with dozens of people, all coming together to eat before beginning their day. Before she could decide where to sit, Albert was beside her.

“Good morn to ye, Laurin,” he said with a smile. “Are ye feelin’ better?”

Usually, she would have looked into his eyes for any warning sign that she needed to run and hide. This morning, however, she took the time to actually look into his eyes. Not for deceit or duplicity, but for what they truly told.

Nothing but kindness and sincere warmth lay within them.

“Aye, I do feel better,” she told him with a smile.

He looked relieved, smiled, and offered to sit with her while she ate. Once they chose a table, he sat opposite her.

“Albert, I want to apologize to ye, fer the other night,” she whispered across the table.

He dismissed her apology with a smile and wave of his hand. “Ye have nothin’ to apologize for. ’Tis me who should be apologizin’. Sometimes, I push a matter too hard and fast.”

“Sometimes, that be a good thing,” she told him.

Puzzled, he asked what she meant.

“I had a verra good talk with yer mum last eve,” she admitted. “I ken ye only wish to help.”

When he smiled at her, it brought a slight flutter to her breast, a wholly unusual sensation. Dismissing it as nerves, she said, “I be verra glad to call ye me friend.”

Albert supposed ’twas at least a step in the right direction. Though in truth, he wanted to be more than just her friend. But a beginning was a beginning. “And I, ye, lass.”

He watched as she took a bit of ham and glanced about the room. Long moments passed as she ate. He could hear his father’s words of wisdom rattling around in his mind. Do no’ push. Just be her friend.

“Albert,” she said before taking a drink of cider. “Do ye think we could ride this day? I would verra much like to see more of this land I shall be callin’ home.”

’Twas all he could do to keep his heart inside his chest as hope soared. Doing his best to keep his excitement contained, he said, “Aye, we can. I shall see if Bruce or Traigh would like to join us,” he said as he stood.

Before he could walk away to search for someone, anyone who would be willing to ride with them, Laurin stopped him. “Albert, if ye can no’ find anyone, I’ll still ride with ye.”

Before he could do something foolish, such as offer for her hand that very moment, he gave her a nod and left quickly.

’Tis just a ride, he admonished his excited heart. ’Tis just a ride.

Traigh and Bruce had been too busy to ride, so he settled for his brothers Connor and a young woman he was quite smitten with named Elise, as well as the youngest MacAulay, Ronald and one young woman who worked in the kitchens, named Elsbeth. Within the hour, they were mounted and heading out of the walls to show Laurin what a beautiful piece of country ’twas that they all called home.

Their first destination was a ride along the beach. Thankfully, ’twas a calm day, at least by MacAulay standards.

“’Tis a fair day,” Albert remarked as Laurin shivered.

Turning to look at him, her brow furrowed. “Ye jest,” she said with a good measure of disbelief.

He laughed heartily before saying, “Nay, I do no’ jest. I’ll bring ye here this winter so ye’ll have something to compare it to.”

Shivering again, she turned to look at the ocean. “’Tis beautiful,” she admitted.

“Would ye like to go out on a boat and do some fishin’?” he offered.

She spun around so fast she nearly fell off his lap. “Nay!” she exclaimed.

“Do ye no’ like to fish?” he asked, perplexed.

“I like to fish, but along a quiet stream or in a loch. I swear I never want to step foot in a boat as long as I live,” she told him. “The ride here was enough in one lifetime for me.”

He felt no guilt for being glad to hear it, for he never wanted her to leave. “Verra well,” he replied. “We’ll leave the ocean to those that love it and ye and I shall fish on more quiet waters.”

They dismounted and walked along the sandy beach for a time. Thankfully, the others in their party gave them good space alone. Laurin squealed with delight at finding a pretty seashell, to which Albert took a good measure of satisfaction. When she smiled, as she did on the beach that morn, it endeared her to him all the more.

After an hour, they decided to mount again and head inland, toward Loch Braighe na h-Airigh. The six of them picnicked together atop a flat hill, the conversation light, and at times playful. The brothers teased one another while entertaining the lasses with a display of handstands, juggling, or anything else that would induce their laughter.

After eating, they decided to head further inland, where the terrain changed to rolling hills covered in green grass and bright summer flowers. ’Twas much warmer and far less windy, a change Laurin was quite grateful for.

All along the way, she and Albert talked of all manner of things. Though in truth, ’twas mostly Albert doing the talking and Laurin listening. It hadn’t taken long to realize that while the MacAulay brothers were fiercely competitive, they were also fiercely loyal to one another. The only loyal person she’d ever known in her life, was Josephine.

“Would ye like to stretch yer legs again?” Albert asked as they approached a small thicket of trees.

“Aye,” she replied with a smile.

The longer the day wore on, the more comfortable she was feeling with Albert and his brothers as well as the young women that were with them.

As they walked along the line of trees, Ronald decided now would be as good a time as any to show off his knife throwing skills. Laurin thought it quite charming how hard he was trying to impress Elsbeth.

From at least twenty-five paces, he took aim and let the dirk fly. It landed in the center of a felled tree, to which Elsbeth clapped and cheered.

“Och,” Connor said as he approached his younger brother. “Anyone can do that, even Elise and Elsbeth. How do ye fare with a smaller target?”

Soon, a challenge ensued, one by where a tiny bit of cloth was stuck to a tree trunk a good distance away. One by one, the MacAulay men took turns flinging their dirks through the air with deadly precision.

Laurin looked on in stunned surprise as Elise and Elsbeth each stepped up to take a turn. Elsbeth was able to lodge her dirk into the center of those already embedded into the trunk. Elise landed her’s right next to it.

“Och,” Laurin murmured to no one in particular.

Albert took note of her wide eyes and jaw all a slack. “What be the matter?” he asked.

Laurin turned to face him. “Elise and Elsbeth,” she said. “They ken how to use a dirk.”

“All the MacAulay women ken how to use a dirk. Many of them can also use a sword as well as bow and arrow. We teach them from a young age how to defend themselves,” he explained.

She gave a shake of her head in disbelief. “They be verra lucky women.” Mayhap had she been taught the same manner of protection, the last few years would have been entirely different.

Albert smiled as he returned from retrieving his dirk from the tree. “Laurin, would ye like to learn?” he asked as he wiped the blade of his dirk against his leather trews.

Looking up at him in wide eyed amazement, her smile grew. “Aye!”

“Feel the weight of the knife,” Albert told her as he carefully placed the weapon in the palm of her hand.

“’Tis hefty,” she remarked.

Albert nodded. “Each dirk, knife, and sgian dubh will have a different feel to it.”

Elise stepped forward and agreed. “Aye, feel mine,” she said as she held out her own sgian dubh. This smaller instrument was not quite as heavy, but felt just as solid as the other.

“I recommend ye practice with many different kinds,” Elise added. “That way, if yer own is ever taken from ye and ye must use another, ’twill no’ feel so foreign in yer hands.”

Moving her much closer to the target, they gave her advice and encouragement as she practiced throwing one dirk after the other. She had missed her mark on the first few attempts, but eventually was able to catch on well enough. She squealed with delight the first time she hit her mark.

’Twas empowering, even though she knew it would take hours and hours of practice before she was able to throw with such accuracy as her new friends. And she was beginning to think of them as such.

Suddenly, she no longer felt helpless or alone.

“Now, there be a verra distinct difference between throwin’ a knife and usin’ one up close,” Ronald told her.

“Up close?” she asked.

“Aye,” Connor interjected. “If yer ever attacked, ye take yer dirk and shove it hard and deep, right into yer enemy’s heart.”

She had often imagined having the mental strength to do just that. To take a knife and shove it deep into one of the three eejit’s hearts.

“But make sure ye do no’ miss,” Ronald told her. “If ye miss and hit bone, all ye’ll do is make him bloody angry.”

Albert stepped forward and glared at his brothers. “But ’tis somethin’ ye’ll no’ have to worry over,” he told her. “Fer the chances of ye ever needin’ to do such are quite low.”

Ronald hadn’t understood Albert’s intention of putting Laurin at ease. “True, but ye can no’ be too careful. Now what ye want to do is aim fer this part of his chest,” he said as he pointed to the left side of his chest.

“I think, we should save that lesson fer when we’re back at the keep,” Albert said through gritted teeth.

Laurin had to admit that her outlook on her future had changed somewhat after spending the day with Albert and his brothers. She also felt a special bond growing with Elise and Elsbeth.

Returning to the keep late in the afternoon, she felt much more relaxed and at ease. Gone was the incessant fear and worry of being hurt again. Replacing it was the realization that not all people, especially men, were cruel, heartless bastards.

They drew to a stop in the courtyard near the stables. Albert dismounted first, before helping her down. With utmost care, he set her on her feet. It stunned her to realize she did not feel repulsed by the fact that his big hands were on her hips.

“Thank ye for ridin’ with me this day,” he said warmly.

“Thank ye for suggestin’ it,” she said. “And thank ye fer showin’ me how to use a dirk.”

Ronald and Elbeth came to stand beside them. “Ye had a good time then, lass?” he asked.

“Aye, I did. Thank ye, thank ye all.”

“Mayhap on the morrow ye’ll want to do some fishin’?” Ronald suggested. “We can take one of the boats out—”

Laurin stopped him with a raised hand. “Nay!” she said playfully. “I told Albert, I’ll never set foot on the ocean again. Our trip here was enough to last me a lifetime.”

They laughed together for a moment. “Ye be a land dweller,” Ronald laughed.

“I do no’ mind lookin’ at the ocean, but bein’ on it ’twas a most terrifyin’ experience. And one I should never like to repeat.”

Elise stepped forward and took Laurin by the arm. “Come, let us go inside and let these men put the horses away.”

They bid the men good day before heading into the keep. “I think Albert is sweet on ye,” Elise said as they took the steps.

Laurin felt her cheeks flame red as that old familiar voice reared its ugly head. It matters no’, she told herself. Fer nothin’ could ever come of it.