And for the first time since she had become Lady MacCabe, Ava felt wholly chosen.
CHAPTER 30
Morning dawned gentlyon the Laird’s chambers.
The fire had burned down to embers, leaving the room awash in the grey light that filtered through the narrow windows and brushed the stone walls with silver.
Outside, the castle stirred—footsteps in corridors below, a distant call from the courtyard—but here, time seemed to stand still.
Ava woke up in the room she had never intended to return to. Visions of the night before flashed through her mind. Slow touches, gentle kisses, climax after climax. She blushed, thinking about it.
Last night had closed a difficult chapter in their lives. They had started anew in the most beautiful of ways.
Ava laughed at the thought of once calling it a duty. Already, she could not wait to do it again.
She lay still for a long moment, listening. Not for danger, not for tension, but for the steady breathing beside her, deep and unguarded.
Caden slept on his back, one arm curved around her waist as though it had always belonged there. His hair spilled across the pillow, the severity of the Laird nowhere to be found.
Ava studied him with quiet awe.
In sleep, he looked younger. Softer. As though the weight he carried had been set carefully aside for a few precious hours.
She traced the line of his jaw with her eyes, the scar near his temple, the rise and fall of his chest.
Mine, a voice said in her head.
She shifted slightly, and his arm tightened, drawing her closer. His brow furrowed, then smoothed.
“Ye’re awake,” he murmured, his voice rough from sleep.
“Aye,” she whispered. “Did I wake ye?”
“Daenae ken how I could sleep when ye’re there,” he said, his eyes fluttering open.
There was no hesitation in them now. No distance. Just warmth—and a quiet, almost startled happiness, as though he were still convincing himself that this was real.
They did not rush.
The morning unfolded in small, unremarkable ways that felt extraordinary precisely because of their simplicity.
Ava rested her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, while his fingers traced idle patterns along her back. At some point, she laughed softly at something he said, and the sound seemed to surprise them both.
“I’ve missed that,” he admitted.
“What?” she asked.
“Yer laughter,” he replied. “I ken I heard it before. But I didnae hear it often.”
She lifted her head to look at him. “Then listen better.”
“Aye, me Lady,” he said in a mock solemn tone.
She swatted his shoulder, smiling.
They spoke of nothing urgent. Nothing heavy. Not the clan, nor her uncle, nor the narrow paths duty would inevitably force them to walk again. Instead, they spoke of Nathan—how he would insist on wearing the paper crown again, how he would no doubt demand a story at breakfast. Of the market, of the grey cat that had quickly become Nathan’s best friend.
Ava spoke of dreams of the future, of hopes for a larger family, and how they would decorate the castle. She spoke of bringing more animals into the castle and having her family over for Christmas.
