“That is a wonderful idea!” Rose hefted the tool and tromped the head so firmly into the loam that Myrtle winced with her entire body.
They ended up passing the spade around in a circle until the container was freed. It made the entire process take a bit longer than necessary, but it felt right, doing this together. And as much as Thorfinn wanted to hand the important information off to the authorities and fulfill his brother’s last request, he also didn’t want the search to end. Because when it did, Rose would no longer have a reason to stay in Orkney.
It was a truth that had lain between them this past week as they’d cared for his siblings and worked ceaselessly to decode Reggie’s last clues—one that neither of them had wanted to mention, especially him. Thorfinn didn’t want to ask Rose to stay. After all, he didn’t havethat right. A decision like that had to come from her. And he couldn’t leave—at least not without the children in tow.
Thorfinn didn’t even know if Rose wanted a future with him. Not like he did with her. After all, he’d always believed in love and she in just flirtation.
But as Rose and he bent down together to hoist Reggie’s last notes about the London-based spies from the ground, he swore that the connection between them felt stronger than a mere summer dalliance. The mystery of the spy ring had brought Rose to Hamarray, but their partnership had always been about more than just unearthing the past. It had been about improving the island and building its future. Foundations were literally being laid for the new distillery.
“Who will have the honors of hefting it down to the jetty and delivering it to the navy?” Percy asked.
Thorfinn glanced back at the hole he’d dug—an ugly scar in the otherwise green carpet. It made him think of an open grave, and in some ways, it was. He’d just exhumed the last remaining link to his older brother, the boy and man who’d meant so much to him,givenso much to him. And Thorfinn wanted to say goodbye.
“I’ll stay here and put the sod back together. No sense in leaving a ditch one of our new tourists might trip into. They’re not always the heartiest.”
“Are you certain you don’t wish to come?” Astrid asked him as she started to follow Percy down the hill.
“Aye. You all go ahead.”
“Would you like some company?” Rose asked, surprising him.
“Don’t you wish to see the handover?” Thorfinn asked.
She shook her head. “My role seems ... complete, if that makes any sense at all.”
“It does.” Especially since Thorfinn felt the same about himself. “And it would be good to have you here.”
Percy and Astrid said their goodbyes and headed down the slope to the docks. Neither Thorfinn nor Rose spoke as he quietly replaced the dirt. She seemed to instinctually understand the significance of his action.
When he replaced the top layer of grass, which he’d carefully cut like he did when extracting peat, he stayed kneeling. Rose joined him, her gloved hand finding his bare one.
Reggie hadn’t just forgiven Thorfinn for not accompanying him to war—he’d somehow managed to ensure that Thorfinn had shared his final great adventure. And what an epic one it had been.
“I only knew Viscount Barbury briefly, but somehow, I think he’s smiling down from heaven and watching us,” Rose said softly.
Thorfinn chuckled quietly. “Likely he’d be giving us a cheeky wink.”
“He was truly a remarkable hero.”
“And man.” Thorfinn stood, and Rose followed.
“Do you regret that we can’t publicly share how he uncovered a spy ring?”
“Reggie would’ve been of the same mind as Percy. He’d want the world to know about his cleverness. In the end, though, I wonder whether he would have agreed it was for the best to keep silent.”
Rose was quiet for a second. “Do you remember when I told you about how Reggie confided to me in the poste de secours? He confessed that he originally thought that he was battling for glory but that he was really fighting for those he let into his heart, his loved ones. He wanted to protect you and the people of Frest. That was his mission in the end, not fame. I don’t think it would bother him one whit to remain silent about his role—not if it meant amity and protection for you and the children from any fallout triggered by Sigurd’s treason.”
The pressure of unshed tears swelled inside Thorfinn, but his emotions were not just grief ... but a sense of gratitude and perhaps a peedie peace. Reggie had died as the man whom he’d always had the capacity of being—a man who searched not for outer validation but for inner. Hehad sought glorious deeds not to compensate for the damage Mar had done to his soul but for love, connection, and family. One of the best ways to honor his fallen brother was for Thorfinn to never again allow Mar to make him feel less or, worse, unworthy. For hewasworthy, just as Reggie had always been.
“It’s odd,” Rose said quietly. “I’ve spent my whole life chasing notoriety, but I don’t feel any need to shout our victory to the world. Peace has been secured, and that’s all that matters. I do wish you could tell the islanders, though. They’d love the tale.”
“That they would,” Thorfinn agreed, thinking how they’d laugh and slap him on the back—as long as he left out the part about Sigurd. But he didn’t need any accolades. Maybe some folks would always think of him as a coward for not going to war, but let them. He knew who he was, just as Reggie had discovered himself in the end.
Rose had been right when they’d talked about bravery and honor as the merry dancers had whirled above them in the night sky. Thorfinn was proud of what he’d done to stop the spies, but he had an equal swell of satisfaction whenever one of the children rushed up to him brimming with excitement to tell their big brother about their day.
For once, he was completely comfortable in his own skin. He was Thorfinn Sinclair, an honest crofter and an estate manager, with deep roots on Frest and Hamarray. The identity of his sire did not matter—only his own, which was his alone to forge.
Thorfinn also had no doubts about his feelings for the woman standing at his side. He loved her, and even if she decided to leave, those feelings didn’t make him a daft mortal who’d been bewitched by a fae creature. Rose wasn’t akin to an enchanting selkie or a sly mermaid. She wasn’t her elegant clothes or flashy vehicles either. She was fierce, loyal, compassionate, adventurous, stubborn, brave, mischievous—aye—but most of allsolid. She was someone a man could put his faith in, his trust in, hislovein.
