Hamish studied him for a long moment, then nodded. “Take all the time ye need. But Murdock? Daenae take too long. That lass willnae wait forever.”
Murdock knew his friend wasn’t talking about Skye. Hamish walked away, leaving him alone in the courtyard as his men worked around him. They moved efficiently, respectfully, giving their Laird space while they cleared the evidence of battle.
Murdock looked down at his hands. Still covered in blood. Still shaking slightly from the thrill that hadn’t fully faded. These were a killer’s hands. A monster’s hands. The same hands thathad held Leona moments ago, that had wanted to pull her close and never let go.
How could he expect her to want him, when this was what he was? When violence came so easily to him? When he’d just killed a man in cold blood and felt nothing but grim satisfaction?
“Da?” Skye’s small voice cut through his spiraling thoughts.
He looked up to find his daughter standing a few feet away, Nyx cradled in her arms. She was clean now; someone had already taken her inside and washed the day’s horrors from her skin and clothes. But her eyes were too old, too knowing for a child her age.
“Are ye hurt?” She asked it so simply, with such genuine concern, that his chest tightened.
“Nay, wee one. Just scratches.” He knelt down to her level. “Are ye? Did that man hurt ye?”
“Nay. Nyx saved me.” Skye stroked the cat’s head, and the usually temperamental beast purred like a little engine. “She was very brave.”
“Aye, she was.”
They stayed like that for a moment, father and daughter kneeling together in a courtyard stained with blood, while around them the world slowly returned to order.
“Why did ye let her go, Da?”
Murdock blinked. “What?”
“Leona.” Skye tilted her head, studying him with those too-perceptive eyes. “Why did ye let her go? She was right here, and ye just… stood there.”
“I didnae let her go, lass. She left on her own.”
“Ye did. Ye just stood there.” Skye’s tone was matter-of-fact, holding no accusation, just simple observation. “Ye always tell me that if somethin' matters, we have to fight for it. But ye didnae fight. Ye let her walk away.”
The words hit him hard. Out of the mouths of babes, as his mother used to say.
“It’s nae that simple, Skye.”
“Why nae?” She shifted Nyx to one arm and reached out to take his hand with the other. Her small fingers wrapped around his blood-stained ones without hesitation. “If ye want her to stay, tell her. If ye love her, say so. Why is it that hard?”
“Because…” Murdock struggled to find words that would make sense to a child. “Because sometimes, even when we love someone, we have to let them go. If it’s what’s best for them.”
“But is it?” Skye’s eyes were so earnest, so full of childish wisdom. “Is lettin' her go what’s best? Or is it just what’s easiest?”
Murdock stared at his daughter, this small person who somehow saw through all of his carefully constructed defenses straight to the truth he’d been avoiding.
Itwaseasier. Easier to let Leona believe he didn’t love her than to risk telling her and watching her realize he wasn’t enough. That his love was too dark, too damaged, too much like his father’s to be anything but poison.
“I’m afraid,” he admitted quietly. “Afraid that if I tell her how I feel, she’ll see… she’ll see what I am. What I’m capable of.” He gestured around the courtyard, to the evidence of the violence he’d dealt. “She’ll realize I’m nae the man she thinks I am.”
Skye looked around at the bloodstained stones, at the men still cleaning up the aftermath of battle. Then she looked back at him, her expression solemn.
“I think she already kens what ye are, Da. She saw ye fight. Saw ye kill that bad man. And she still kissed yer cheek and thanked ye.” She squeezed his hand. “Maybe ye’re afraid of the wrong thing. Maybe ye should be afraid of losin' her because ye were too scared to try. I ken I was scared to pet Nyx at first, but if I hadnae, I would have lost my best friend.”
An hour later, Murdock stood in his study, staring at the ledgers on his desk without seeing them.
He’d bathed. Changed into clean clothes. Checked on his men, sent word to the other clans about what had happened. All the duties of a laird, performed with mechanical efficiency while his mind remained firmly elsewhere.
On green eyes and dark hair, and a kiss pressed to his cheek like a goodbye.
A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.
