“Leona…”
“I can finally go back.” The words came out rushed, desperate. “To me castle. To me clan. Ragnall is dead, and Rufus can claimhis birthright. Ye daenae have to force yerself to do somethin' ye daenae want to. Ye’ve done enough. More than enough.”
Murdock stared at her, unable to process what he was hearing. “What are ye talkin' about?”
“The weddin'. The betrothal. All of it.” She finally looked at him, and the sadness in her eyes made his chest ache. “Ye only agreed to protect me. But I nay longer need protection. Ye’re free, Murdock. Free of the obligation, free of me. Ye can go back to yer life, to Skye, without the burden of?—”
“Burden?” The word came out strangled. “Ye think ye’re a burden?”
“I ken I am.” She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I’ve brought nothin' but trouble since the moment I walked into that dungeon. But it’s over now. Ye can?—”
“Nay.” The word came out sharp, final. “We’re nae done. We’re nowhere near done.”
He started toward her, but she backed away, shaking her head.
“I have to go,” she whispered. “Before I… I just have to go.”
28
“What the hell are ye talkin' about?”
The words burst out of Murdock, raw and desperate.
But Leona was already moving away, already putting distance between them, her arms wrapped tight around herself like she was holding something in.
Or keeping something out.
“Leona, wait!”
“A man who doesnae believe in love doesnae have a strong reason to marry, me Laird.” Her voice was steady, but he could hear the tremor beneath it. See the way her shoulders tensed. “Ye’d sacrifice yerself to protect me, but ye daenae need to.Thank ye for everythin'. For saving me, for protecting Rufus, for…” She stopped, her throat working.
Then, before he could respond, before he could find the words to tell her she was wrong about everything, she crossed back to him and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.
The touch burned like a brand.
“Thank ye,” she whispered against his skin. “For bein' exactly who ye are.”
Then she was gone, disappearing through the keep’s entrance, leaving him standing in the middle of the courtyard surrounded by blood and bodies and the bitter taste of words unsaid.
Murdock stood frozen, his mind struggling to process what had just happened. She thought he didn’t love her. Thought that this had all been obligation, duty. Thought he was sacrificing himself rather than choosing her.
How could she think that? How could she not see?—
But of course, she couldn’t see. Because he’d never told her. Had spent weeks pushing her away, telling her that he couldn’t give her what she needed, convincing her that his feelings were dangerous rather than what they truly were—real.
“Ye’re an idiot,” he muttered to himself.
“Aye, ye are.”
He turned to find Hamish approaching, his expression caught between sympathy and exasperation. “Ye heard?”
“Everyone heard. Ye werenae exactly quiet.” Hamish stopped a few feet away, surveying the carnage. “The men are almost finished with the cleanup. And yer daughter is asking for ye.”
“Tell her I’ll be there shortly.”
“Me Laird?—”
“I said I’ll be there shortly.” The words came out harsher than intended, and Murdock immediately regretted it. “I’m sorry. I just… I need a moment.”
