“He taught ye that feeling is weakness, that vulnerability is shameful, that the only way tae be strong is tae become cold and hard.”
She stepped closer, touching his cheek.
“But I see a different truth, Baird. I see strength in yer grief. I see honor in yer love. I see the man ye are, nae the one yer faither tried tae shape.”
His eyes glistened, and he shut them tightly, leaning into her touch as though he’d been starved for it.
Davina whispered. “Ye stopped because I called ye. Because the man ye truly are heard me, even through all that pain. That is strength, Baird, nae what he taught ye.”
Without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around him. For a moment he went rigid, out of habit, but also out of fear. Then, slowly, his arms came around her, holding her as though he’d never learned how, but needed to.
“Davina…” he whispered into her hair. “I dinnae ken how tae dae this… any of this.”
She held him tighter, resting her cheek against his chest. “Ye’re already daeing it.”
He breathed in sharply, as if her words pierced something deep inside. He held her for a long moment, breathing against her hair as though relearning how to draw air into his lungs. When he finally pulled back, his expression was still raw.
“I cannae go back inside,” he told her.
Davina blinked. “Tae the castle?”
He shook his head, stepping back as though the very stone walls pressed too tightly around him. “Everywhere I turn, I see echoes. Me faither’s voice, Malcolm’s absence, Filib’s confession… I need out, Davina. I need air I can actually breathe.”
He scrubbed a hand over his face, trembling with exhaustion and something deeper.
“I dinnae ken where,” he murmured. “I just… I need tae get away. Before I lose meself entirely.”
Davina didn’t hesitate. “I’ll go with ye,” she said softly.
His head snapped up. “Nay. Ye’ve been through enough. Ye should?—”
“I said,” she repeated gently, “that I will go whereveryewant.”
He looked at her as though she had handed him something he never thought he deserved.
“Davina…” he whispered.
She stepped closer. “Ye told me once that a laird bears everything alone. But ye’re nae alone anymore.”
The silence was filled only by their trembling breaths. Then, he nodded just once.
“Come then,” he told her, turning away. “Before I change me mind.”
But his hand shot out to her, and without thinking, she took it. Together, they crossed the courtyard toward the stables, wherethe horses were restless but familiar, as if sensing what had just happened.
Baird saddled his with practiced movements, though she saw the tension in his shoulders. When she placed a hand on his arm, he stilled.
“I’m here,” she murmured.
He closed his eyes for a heartbeat, then helped her mount before swinging onto his own horse. The gates creaked open, with guards watching in wide-eyed uncertainty as their laird rode out with his wife at his side. No one dared question him, not after the storm that had shaken the hall.
They rode hard until the castle’s stone silhouette vanished behind the rolling hills, swallowed by sunlight and distance. The afternoon was warm, the kind of Highland warmth that softened the world without ever turning heavy. A gentle breeze carried the clean scent of pine and heather, brushing cool fingers across Davina’s cheeks.
The steady rhythm of the horses’ hooves grounded her.Thud,thud,thud. Each beat eased the tightness that had coiled in her chest since the hall.
After some time, Baird eased his pace, guiding them off the main road and onto a narrow trail carved through tall grass and scattered wildflowers. Ancient pines rose on either side, their branches arching overhead like a cathedral of green. Sunlightfiltered through the needles in shifting gold patterns that danced across the path.
At last, the trees parted.
