“Didn’t ye?” Rae eyed him, his gaze roaming over Ailean’s face.
Ailean shook his head. “I thought the sight of me sickened ye.”
His father flinched. Kylie’s brow furrowed. Lyle shifted uneasily, his gaze flicking between them.
“We’ve both missed ye,” his stepmother said huskily. “Worried about ye.”
Ailean gave a short snort. “There was no need to fash yerself on my account,” he replied, adopting a hearty tone he didn’t feel. His encounter with Fiona had hollowed him out. He wanted nothing more than solitude—yet this visit had knocked the breath from him too.
“Ye are making a good job of the tower,” Rae admitted gruffly, glancing around. “It was a right mess before.”
“Aye,” Ailean said. “Progress is slow as I learn new skills … but I’ll get there.”
His gaze met his father’s. They held each other’s eyes for a heartbeat.
Then Rae surprised him by smiling. “Aye,” he murmured. “Ye will.”
Warmth stirred unexpectedly in Ailean’s chest.
“I swear yer shoulders are as broad as a smithy’s these days,” Lyle added. “I used to beat ye at wrestling. I’m not sure I would any longer.”
“Ye beat meonce,” Ailean corrected, a ghost of a grin touching his mouth. “Let’s be honest about it.”
Lyle snorted.
“The locals have accepted ye as steward, I hope?” Rae asked.
Ailean nodded. His belly tightened at the memory of what Fiona had suffered at market this morning. “They’re good people,” he said. “I like it here.”
“Ye do?” Lyle looked genuinely surprised.
Ailean’s lips quirked. “Aye.”
Rae cleared his throat. Both sons turned to him.
“About that, Ailean …” His voice roughened. “I’m sorry for the things I said back at Dounarwyse. I wish I could call them back.”
Silence fell.
Ailean met his eye. His throat tightened. “Ye shouldn’t, Da. They were true. Ye gave me everything, yet I did nothing but throw it in yer face.” He swallowed hard. “I deserved worse.”
Pain flickered nakedly across Rae’s face. For a moment, he looked older, the laird stripped away to reveal only a father. “No,” he said hoarsely. “I was wrong. And I would mend it if I could. Ye have no obligation to wed Sorcha MacDougall … I shouldn’t have pushed ye.” He drew a breath. “Ye are still my heir. When I go, the title is yers.”
Ailean’s breathing caught. He glanced at Lyle. His brother’s eyes shone—not with disappointment, but relief. He’d known what Rae intended. He’d wanted this for him.
Shame pricked Ailean then, sharp and humbling. How often had he misjudged Lyle? How often had he imagined rivalry where none existed?
“Yer words mean more than I can say,” Ailean managed. “But … I don’t want yer title. Not any longer.”
The air froze.
Rae stared at him. Lyle’s breath hitched. Kylie’s hand rose to her throat.
“I want ye to give it to Lyle,” Ailean continued steadily.
For a long moment, no one spoke.
“I’m happy here,” he said at last, the truth settling solid in his chest. “Happier than I ever thought I’d be.” He glanced aroundthe tower—the stone, the tools, the life he’d carved out with his own hands. “I’ve found my place.”
