A broad, sunlit clearing opened before them, the land sloping gently toward a serene loch. The water shone like polished glass beneath the bright sky, small ripples glinting where dragonflies skimmed the surface. The hillside around it was dotted with yellow gorse and purple thistle, a burst of color after too much stone and shadow.
Baird reined in his horse. Davina followed suit, letting her mare settle beside his.
For a long moment, they didn’t move. The air was warm and still, touched only by birdsong and the distant rustle of reeds. It felt like the world had finally given them a breath, a single, suspended moment where nothing chased them and nothing was demanded of them.
Then, Baird swung down from his horse, and she dismounted beside him, then joined him by the water’s edge. She didn’t speak. She simply stood there, watching and waiting.
There, he wasn’t the laird. He wasn’t a man hunted by grief or trapped by duty.
He was simply Baird and she was simply Davina.
CHAPTER 27
The sunlight danced across the loch in bright shards, and for a moment Baird simply watched these small, fleeting sparks that vanished as quickly as they appeared.
It felt fitting. His life had been made of moments like that.
Brief. Bright. Gone.
“This place…” he heard himself speak before he was even aware of it, “it meant a great deal tae me maither.”
Davina turned slightly toward him, but she didn’t interrupt. She simply waited, patient as the warm breeze threading through the grass.
Baird kept his eyes on the water.
“She once told me, shortly before she died, even though I couldn’t fully understand then, that she used tae ride here when me faither’s temper grew too much fer her,” he murmured. “She said this loch felt like the one place where she could breathe without asking fer permission.” A faint, sad smile ghosted across his mouth. “She said that freedom was something everyone deserved… but nae everyone had.”
His throat tightened. He hadn’t told anyone that before, except for Malcom.
Davina let the silence sit between them for a breath. Then another. Then she said softly. “I understand.”
He turned to her fully, searching her face. “Really?”
Davina nodded. “Aye. I grew up in a house full of love, but still there were expectations and duties. What I wore, how I spoke, who I would marry…”
Baird’s chest tightened.
She looked toward the loch. “Freedom, fer me, was always the idea that I might choose something fer meself one day.Anything. A single thing that was mine and nay one else’s tae command.”
Baird felt the truth of her words strike him deep, like the two of them were standing on opposite ends of the same wound.
He spoke without meaning to. “And did ye? Did ye ever choose something just fer yerself?”
Davina met his gaze, steady and open in the golden light. “I chose tae come with ye today.”
A piece of the armor he’d worn since childhood flaked away. He reached for her hand slowly, giving her time to refuse. She didn’t. Her fingers curled gently around his.
Baird swallowed. “I cannae promise I’ll always ken how tae be…”
Davina stepped closer. “Then we’ll learn taegether.”
A soft breeze lifted her hair. Her face was inches from his. He felt her warmth, her certainty, her steady strength. He lifted her hand and pressed it against his chest, right over the scar he never spoke about.
“I promise ye this, Davina,” he said quietly. “I’ll give ye whatever freedom I can. Even if I falter, even if I fail, I’ll still try.”
She placed her other hand gently over his.
“And I’ll give ye the same,” she said. “A place where ye never need tae pretend, a place where ye can breathe.”
