“Sometimes, ye need to know when to let things lie,” Tor said quietly. “Ye must realize that the tighter ye hold onto things, the faster ye lose them.”
Aware then that the merchant and his wife, seated by the fire, were now staring at him, as were all the other patrons and Alison, Craeg lowered himself back down onto his stool. “Iamlosing her,” he ground out. “I’ve lost her trust … and I don’t know how to get it back.”
Silence followed before, wordlessly, Tor grabbed a stool of his own and pulled it up next to him. “Ye need to stop haranguing the lass,” he said after a lengthy pause.
Heat rolled over Craeg. Why was everyone intent on treating him like some wet-behind-the-ears pup? “I was only trying to make her understand,” he replied, wishing his voice wasn’t so hoarse.
“She’s clearly afraid,” Tor replied, his eyes narrowing slightly. “And yer insistence just made her bolt.”
“What else am I supposed to do?” Craeg snarled, his frustration spilling over. “She’s shutting me out. But I’ll be damned if I won’t fight for her.”
Tor gave him a pitying look that made him want to punch him. Grabbing his tankard, Craeg took a deep pull of ale. It didn’t make him feel any better though; it didn’t lessen the ache in his chest or the panic that twisted in his gut. “What would ye do then?” he bit out eventually.
Tor’s mouth tugged up into a half smile. His gaze went to where Hazel had just disappeared up the stairs, his expression thoughtful. “It’s clear ye love the woman … but ye are battering at her like she’s a locked door ye can just force open with the right words. That’s not how this works.”
Craeg’s face started to burn. This was excruciating. But Tor wasn’t done.
“Ye didn’tlisten. Instead of asking gently what happened in Moy, of giving her space to tell ye in her own time, ye charged ahead with yer own speech. Apologies are easy … proving ye mean it is harder. Ye made it about winning an argument, not understanding her pain. Ye told her whatshe’llregret, whatshe’llfeel. That’s not yer place, man. Ye don’t get to decide how she’ll feel years from now. It sounds like ye are dismissing her reasons as foolish, even if that’s not what ye mean.”
Sweat beaded on Craeg’s brow. He wished the innkeeper would stop talking, yet he wasn’t done.
“And not only that, but ye said it all in this common room” —Tor cut the merchant and his wife a look, and the pair hastily averted their gazes— “where everyone could hear. Hazel is clearly already humiliated, already the subject of gossip. If someone warned her about the cost of being with the Chieftain of Moy … ye just proved them right.”
Standing by the flickering hearth, Hazel clenched and unclenched her hands at her sides. Ire pulsed in her stomach.
Curse the man. Why did he have to make things so difficult?
Craeg didn’t see the world as she did. He’d grown up blanketed by privilege. He didn’t realize how it was for other folk. She’d lost everything that mattered to her. Siùsan. Her cottage. Duncan. Her life had been made from straw—all it had taken was a strong gust to destroy it. Craeg didn’t understand. Maybe he didn’t want to. Instead, he waded in with breathtaking recklessness, blinded by his own needs and wants.
Her throat tightened then. He was right about one thing though. She’d never recover from this. From him. The knowledge sank deep into her bones and filled her with an ache of longing that almost eclipsed the humiliation of the scene.Almost made her forget the panic that had washed over her when he’d ordered her to return to Moy with him and the wariness she now cloaked herself in.
Almost.
Hands still balled at her sides, she started to pace her chamber. Her skirts swished around her legs as she moved, as she forced herself to think ahead, to a new life on the mainland. Enough wallowing. She needed to make plans.
Oban was a busy port. There would be a need for a skilled herb-wife. She could—
Soft knocks at the door made her step falter.
Halting, she swiveled to face it. “Aye?”
“Hazel. It’s me … Craeg.”
Panic spasmed in her chest. “Go away.”
A pause followed. “Can I speak to ye?”
She didn’t answer.
“I put my foot in it downstairs,” he added, his voice catching. “Again.”
“Aye, ye did.”
Another silence followed before he cleared his throat. “I understand why ye’re going. Ye are afraid. Ye no longer trust my word. Ye think I’ll try to impose my will upon ye. Change ye. But I won’t.” He paused then. “I would never try to dim yer flame. I swear it.”
Hazel muttered an oath under her breath. “Leave me be, Craeg.”
“I shall stay here,” he replied, his voice low and sure. “I shall speak to ye through this door, if I must. But we can’t leave things like this. I will never be able to live with myself if we do.”
