Isolde tugged her father deeper into a window embrasure, giving them even more privacy.
“Papa, I know your words are born of fear for me, and I love ye for loving me so. But I think ye be looking at this situation with Tristan the wrong way around. In my husband, ye see a man who is your enemy—the same way Tristan has seen you for too long. Ye scrutinize one another’s actions to a fault.”
“I have just reason for such an opinion, Izzy.”
“I ken that, Papa. I do.” She placed her palm on her father’s shoulder. “But I’m asking ye to try to see Tristan through my eyes. In him, I see a man who is wounded and heart-sore. One who is slowly but surely becoming a better man. One who loves as fiercely as ye do and yearns to be adored in return. He is a man I love as boundlessly as ye taught me to love, Papa. And he loves me with an ardor and tenderness even you could not criticize. Ye need tae decide what version of my husband ye are going to see. Can ye trust my own judgment—that I know him, that Uncle Rafe knows him—better than yourself?”
Her father closed his eyes for a brief moment.
“Think upon it, Papa.” She kissed his cheek. “I don’t want to spend my days choosing between my husband and my father. ’Twould be a wretched existence. I love ye both, and I want ye tae get along.”
Hadley glanced around the room—at his wife and children, at Rafe and Allie and Ethan—clearly noting the harmony between their two families.
“Ye truly love him?” her father asked.
“Aye,” she nodded, willing her love to shine through her eyes. “I do. So very much. And he isworthyof my love. Moreover, I know your giant heart is capable of forgiveness.”
Sighing, Hadley wrapped his strong arms around her.
And as she had since her earliest memories, Isolde curled into the security of her father’s love.
Hours later, Tristanstood at the railing of a flagstone terrace beside the castle, studying the ocean and trying to come to grips with the earth-moving shifts of the past twenty-four hours.
Allie was here. His twin, his other half.
He had made peace with his brother. He nowhada brother.
And most surprising—most beautiful, most precious of all— his Isolde had forgiven him.
Shelovedhim.
The wonder of it glowed in his chest. He wanted to kneel at her feet in devotion and awe.
They had become a family, the two of them. And within that lay the hope of the future family they would make together.
He could laugh in astonishment.
A faint motion to his right had him turning his head.
Hadley came to a stop beside him on the terrace, forehead furrowed and mouth drawn in a taut line. Leaning forward, he braced a hand on the stone balustrade,
Swallowing, Tristan shoved his own hands into his trouser pockets.
Not everyone was happy with the day’s turn of events. And not every relationship could be mended.
But for Isolde’s sake, Tristan was willing to try.
He and Hadley stood in silence a long while, shoulder-to-shoulder, listening to the call of gulls and the crash of waves against the cliffs below.
Tristan had no idea what his father-in-law was thinking. Or even what the purpose of this conversation would be. More warnings? Another threat of violence?
Finally, Hadley sighed. “Thank ye for telling my Izzy, Duke.”
The words came out gruff, but Tristan heard the olive branch in them.
“I took far longer than needed,” he admitted. “Your daughter does have the most loving heart in Christendom.”
“That she does, Kendall. That she does.” Hadley’s lips twitched, as if tempted to smile at the mere thought of his daughter.
