Heat crawled up Hazel’s neck. Around them, the stable lad pretended to fuss with Ruadh’s bridle. Rankin and Captain Black had drawn closer, their expressions carefully neutral. Lena hovered at Hazel’s elbow, nervous now.
“I returned because I love him,” Hazel replied, her voice steady. “And because Craeg asked me to.”
Liza’s jaw tightened. Something flickered in her eyes—pain, perhaps, or regret.
“Both of us understand what it will cost,” Craeg said then. “But this is worth the price.”
A muscle worked in Liza’s throat. She glanced at Craeg, then back to Hazel. When she spoke again, her voice had roughened. “I was wrong.”
Hazel stiffened. She hadn’t expected a public apology. She’d thought Lady Liza too proud for that.
“I was thinking of our clan … about politics and propriety,” she went on. “But the moment we discovered ye missing, I regretted letting ye think ye didn’t belong here.”
Hazel’s throat thickened.
“And because of what I said, ye fled.” Liza’s voice caught. “Captain Black told us what happened. Macquarie nearly killed ye … and if he had, yer blood would have been on my hands.” Her dark eyes glittered then. “I’m sorry.”
Hazel’s throat closed. She couldn’t speak.
“Ye are a good woman,” Liza continued, her voice steadying. “And ye make my son happy.” A tremulous smile ghosted across her lips. “That should have been enough. Itisenough.” She stepped forward and took Hazel's hands in hers. Her grip was warm, strong. “Forgive me, Hazel. Welcome home.”
The tears spilled over then, hot against Hazel’s cold cheeks. She nodded, unable to form words past the knot of emotion lodged in her chest.
During their journey back, she’d imagined a few variations of how this scene would unfold. But she hadn’t come up with this.
And then Liza pulled her into an embrace—fierce and maternal and achingly tender.
Over the older woman’s shoulder, Hazel caught Rankin’s gaze. His blue eyes were warm, unguarded. He smiled at her, and she smiled back through her tears.
Around them, the rain began to fall in earnest, drumming against the cobbles and the tower house roof. But here, in the shelter of Liza’s arms, with Craeg’s hand finding hers once more, Hazel felt only warmth.She wouldn’t be leaving her beloved Mull. And with Craeg came a new family; one she never thought to find after losing Siùsan.
She was no longer alone in the world.
She’d come home.
Craeg cast an eye over the ragged group of warriors standing before him in the barmkin. The Macquaries all stank like rutting rams, their clothing stained and torn. But their time in the pit had ended.
He’d only been back at Moy for a day. However, this couldn’t wait.
It had rained heavily overnight, yet this morning, the air was rich and fresh. A hint of autumnal crispness lingered.
A decision had to be made.
Archie Macquarie stood at one end. Thanks to Hazel, the big man hadn’t succumbed to that soured flea bite. He watched the laird of Moy with a veiled expression this morning.
Craeg’s gaze settled on Cameron.
The lad stood tall, his chin lifted in defiance. He was trying to appear brave, yet Craeg marked the fear that shadowed his eyes.
He believed the Chieftain of Moy was about to deal out justice—that they’d all be swinging by their necks from the walls.
Craeg wasn’t going to do that. However, that didn’t mean he’d make this easy for them.
“I should send the lot of ye to Duart,” he said finally. “To suffer the Maclean’s wrath.”
Silence followed these words. Some of the Macquaries were sweating now; they feared Loch Maclean. The clan-chief’s harsh treatment of those who crossed him was legendary throughout the Western Isles.
“I considered it too.” Craeg tore his gaze from Cameron’s pale face to where Hazel stood silently behind him. It had been an eventful arrival at Moy, but she’d impressed him.
