Something flickered in her expression. Her laughter faded, replaced by something more complicated.
“Well,” she said softly, “I am when nay one is trying to take me life… or me freedom, which is pretty much the same thing.”
The words hit him like a punch to the gut. He’d seen her frightened, desperate, and determined. But he’d never stopped to wonder what she might have been like before. Before Keith. Before Ragnall. Before fear became her constant companion.
This. She’d been like this. Joyful and competitive and utterly unguarded.
“Leona…” he started, not sure what he meant to say.
But she shook her head, her smile returning, though it was softer now, more vulnerable. “It’s fine. I’m fine. I just… I forgot what it felt like, to nae be afraid.” Her eyes met his, and the gratitude in them made his throat thicken. “Thank ye for that. For giving me even a moment of it.”
Something passed between them then. Something raw and honest that had nothing to do with desire and everything to do with recognition.
They were both survivors. Both warriors, though they’d fought different battles. Both carrying scars that no one else could see.
The festival noise faded into the background. The music, the laughter, the voices, all of it distant and unimportant compared to this moment. To the way she looked at him like he understood. Like he saw her.
And God help him, he did see her. Saw past the beauty and the bravery to the woman beneath. The one who’d lost so much but still found the strength to laugh. Who’d been caged but still remembered how to fly.
Murdock wanted to say something. Something that would let her know she mattered, that her joy mattered, that watching her be happy made something in his chest crack open in a way that terrified him.
But before he could find the words, voices interrupted.
“Lady Leona!”
“There ye are!”
“Come meet me husband, he’s been dying to welcome ye properly!”
The villagers swarmed them again, and the moment shattered like glass. Leona turned to them with that bright smile, letting them pull her into their circle, answering questions and accepting compliments with grace.
But she glanced back at Murdock once, and in her eyes was that same understanding. That same recognition.
Later,her expression seemed to say.We’ll finish this later.
Murdock let her go, let the crowd carry her away to meet more people, to laugh and talk and charm his clan without even trying.
But he watched. Always watched. Couldn’t seem to help himself.
The afternoon passed in a blur of introductions and games.
Leona met what felt like every person in the village. Young mothers who asked about wedding plans. Old men who told stories of the old days, before Murdock had assumed the Lairdship and brought peace.
And through it all, she felt Murdock’s presence. Not always beside her. He had his own people to speak with, his own duties as Laird, but he remained nearby. Watching her. Protecting her. Making sure she was safe.
It should have felt oppressive. Should have made her nervous, being monitored so closely. Instead, it felt… comforting. Like having an anchor in the middle of a storm.
As the sun began its descent, painting the sky in shades of orange and gold, the music shifted. The energetic reels and jigsgave way to something slower, more romantic. Fiddles sang a haunting melody that made Leona’s heart ache with its beauty.
Couples moved to the center of the square, pairing off for the dance. Leona watched from the sidelines, her feet aching from the day’s activities, but her heart lighter than it had been in months.
She found herself searching the crowd for Murdock, wondering if he would ask her to dance. If he even knew how. She tried to imagine the powerful, dangerous man moving with grace to the music, and the image made her smile.
“Lady Leona?”
She turned to find a young man standing before her, perhaps twenty years old, with sandy hair and an earnest smile. He was handsome in a boyish way, his face open and friendly.
“Would ye do me the honor of a dance?” He bowed with exaggerated courtesy that made her want to smile.
