"Did I?"
"Ye ken ye did." Enya's throat was tight. "Why?"
"Because sometimes losin' is easier than winnin'." Harald stood, moving to the window. "So. Ye've won. What dae ye want me tae teach ye?"
What did she want? The question felt enormous, weighted with possibility.
"The island," Enya heard herself say. "Teach me about Lewis. About the places ye love. The parts of this land that make it worth fightin' fer."
Harald turned to look at her, surprise clear on his face. "That's what ye want? Nae battle tactics or defensive strategies? Just... the island?"
"Aye." Enya moved to stand beside him, looking out at the darkening landscape. "If I'm tae be lady here, I should ken it. Nae just the castle, but the whole of it. The parts ye dinnae show tae strangers."
Something shifted in Harald's expression—the hard edges softening, the suspicion giving way to something that looked almost like wonder.
"There's a lake," he said quietly. "North of here, hidden in the cliffs. The water's so clear ye can see straight to the bottom, and the rocks around it are worn smooth from centuries of waves. I went there a lot as a boy when I needed to think. When the weight of bein' laird's son felt like too much."
"It sounds beautiful."
"It is. I'll take ye there." Harald's voice was soft now, intimate. "When the weather clears. I think ye'd like it."
"I think I would too." Enya felt the warmth of his nearness, the pull of him like gravity. "Thank ye. Fer trustin' me with it."
"Thank ye fer winnin' instead of losin' on purpose." Harald's mouth quirked. "I ken ye saw what I was daein'."
"Aye. But I won anyway." Enya managed a smile despite the guilt still churning in her stomach.
Harald's hand moved like he might reach for hers, then stopped. "Enya?—"
"I should go." She stepped back before she could do something stupid like close the distance between them. "It's late, and Amelia will be worried."
"Of course." Harald's expression shuttered. "I'll walk ye back."
"Nay need. I ken the way now." Enya moved toward the door, then paused. "Harald? Thank ye. Fer this. Fer... all of it."
"Ye're welcome." His voice followed her into the corridor. "And Enya? Next time ye want tae ken somethin', just ask. The locks in this castle are terrible, and I'd rather nae have ye breakin' them all."
Despite everything, Enya felt herself smile. "I'll remember that."
She fled before he could see the tears threatening to spill—tears of guilt and longing and the growing certainty that she was falling for a man she'd been sent to betray.
And she had absolutely no idea how to stop it.
CHAPTER TEN
By the time dawn bled pale and thin through the shutters, Enya had given up any pretense of rest.
She rose with the light, her body feeling heavy and hollowed out. She braided her hair with savage precision, pulling the strands so tight her scalp ached, desperate for the external discipline to anchor the chaos in her chest. The castle was waking, and it sounded like an invading army. Footsteps. Voices. The rhythmic thud-thud-thud of hammers outside.
Wedding preparations.Herwedding preparations.
As she reached the great hall, two women stood near the long table, draped in strips of fabric, muttering to one another. A servant hurried past with a wooden box against his chest.
She took her seat, her spine a line of iron. But her eyes were restless, darting toward the doorway, tracing every movement, searching for a massive frame that wasn't there. A maid approached with a tray, dipping into a curtsy. “Me lady.”
Enya inclined her head. The cup placed before her steamed faintly, but instead of drinking, she stared at the empty chair across from her.
The wood looked cold. The absence of him was a physical weight, a vacuum in the room that sucked the air from her lungs. She had spent the night trying to exorcise his voice from her mind, and now, his silence was louder than the hammers outside.
