But as he climbed the stairs to find his daughter, Leona’s touch lingered on his skin like a brand. And her scent, heather and something sweet, seemed to follow him through the corridors.
He was doing the right thing. Sending her away. Protecting his daughter from the complications she would bring.
So why did he feel empty inside, even emptier than usual?
6
Murdock didn’t sleep that night.
He stood at his chamber window, staring out at the dark landscape, his mind churning. The moon had finally emerged from behind the clouds, casting silver light across the hills and valleys that belonged to his clan.
Beautiful. Peaceful. But somehow, it all felt like a lie tonight.
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw three faces. Skye’s tears as she ran out of the room, her small voice echoing with accusations he deserved. Leona’s quiet devastation when he’d told her to leave, the way she’d blinked back tears and straightened her spine with visible effort. And beneath it all, threading through his thoughts like poison, was his father’s cruel smile from memories he’d rather forget.
“Ye’re too soft, boy,”his father used to say, usually right before delivering another lesson in cruelty.“Attachments make ye weak. Love makes ye foolish. Be grateful I’m teachin' ye this before it costs ye everythin'.”
Murdock’s hands clenched on the windowsill. The stone was cold beneath his palms, grounding.
Is that what he’d become? So hard, so determined to protect what was his, that he’d lost sight of what actually mattered?
Skye was lonely. He’d known it for months, but told himself it couldn’t be helped. His clan needed stability, needed a laird who made decisions based on logic and strategy, not emotion.
But at what cost?
And Leona…
He forced himself to stop that train of thought. Leona was not his concern. She’d leave in the morning, find some other solution to her problems, and he’d never see her again. Never smell heather and sweetness when she passed. Never feel that jolt of awareness when her green eyes met his. Never watch her gentle hands tend wounds or stroke a hissing cat with patient affection.
It was better this way. Safer. For both of them.
When dawn finally broke, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold, Murdock was already dressed and heading for his study. He needed work. Needed ledgers and reports and clan business to occupy his mind, to push away thoughts of a green-eyed lass who’d looked at his scars like they were something worth healing.
He’d barely settled at his desk, staring blankly at a column of numbers that refused to make sense, when the door opened without so much as a knock. Hamish appeared, carrying a tray of food and wearing a knowing look that made Murdock’s jaw tighten.
“Ye look like death warmed over,” Hamish observed, setting the tray down with deliberate care. His eyes swept over Murdock’s face, cataloging every shadow beneath his eyes, every line of tension in his shoulders. “I’m guessin' the lass kept ye up all night, though nae in a pleasant way.”
“Watch yer tongue,” Murdock warned, but there was no heat in it. Just exhaustion that seeped into his bones.
Hamish had known him too long to be intimidated by empty threats. He settled into a chair without invitation, fixing Murdock with a steady look that had seen him through countless battles and far too many poor decisions.
“What are ye goin' to do about her?”
“Nothin'.” Murdock didn’t look up from the ledger, though the numbers still made no sense. “She leaves today.”
“And goes where, exactly?” Hamish leaned forward, his expression turning serious. “Back to a man who’ll likely kill her for what she’s done? Back to a clan that will blame her for Keith’s death?”
“That’s nae me problem.”
“Nay?” Hamish’s eyebrow rose in an infuriating way. “Then why have ye been pacin' yer chambers all night? Why did I see ye standin' at the window at three in the mornin', lookin' like a man bearin' the weight of Scotland on his shoulders?”
Murdock’s hand stilled on the ledger. He should have known Hamish would be watching. The man saw everything, damn him.
“I was thinkin',” he said finally.
“About?”
“Clan business.”
