“She would ha’ been so proud of ye,” he whispers.
I force a smile onto my face. I’m so sick of always crying in front of him. He takes another step closer and brushes a quick kiss on my forehead.
My eyes flutter close, savoring the tenderness, before anger sparks, and I jerk out of his grip.
“Why do you always do that?”
Lachlan’s brow wrinkles in confusion. “Do what?”
I glare at him. “The forehead kisses.”
He hangs his head briefly, clenching his hands into fists. He’s battling with himself, and I wonder if he’ll give me an honest answer.
But then his eyes flick up, meeting my own.
“Before,” he begins but sighs deeply, “I thought it would be easy to keep my distance from ye, to separate our friendship from my duty and just guard ye until I could come back here for good and leave ye behind.” He swallows. “But then I started to ha’ feelings for ye. Watching ye struggle to find your way after your parents’ death forced me to realize how I want to protect ye from every possible thing that could ever hurt ye. Seeing ye come out the other side of your grief reminded me of your strength and that ye don’t need me to lead you through it. Ye just need someone to stand at your side, and I wanted to be that person. I wanted to walk this path with ye. Ye are strong and capable and breathtaking. I wanted ye immensely. But had it become more between us before ye found everything out, ye would never—I would never—be able to forgive myself for deceiving ye in that way, too. So the brief forehead kisses were, selfishly, all I would allow myself.”
His revelation floors me.
He did have feelings for me, too? My face must not revealmy feelings on this matter for once, or he misreads me because sorrow weighs heavily in his gaze.
“I ken I was the villain in part of your story, but let me be the hero now.”
His honesty is refreshing, and his last words are a shock to my system.
I take a moment to collect myself and mull over his words before replying, “So, you did want to kiss me the whole time?”
His smile is broad and unrestrained. “Since we’ve been adults, aye.” He nods. “But when we were younger, nae. I dinna think ye remember what a wild, precocious thing you were, do ye?”
Feeling a little too vulnerable at his admission and not at all ready to forgive him completely. “But you lied to me?”
I cock my head to the side, narrowing my eyes.
He freezes, his smile turning into something deadly serious as he adjusts to my change in attitude.
“I canna go back and undo what I did. The choice that I made in trying to keep ye safe by hiding the truth, and then the poor tactic I used to get ye here,it was a mistake.” He takes a step closer to me, his hand reaching out to cup my face. “And I am sorry more than you’ll ever ken. The look of hurt on your face when ye saw me in the throne room has haunted me every day since. I will always regret that. But I need ye to believe I would never do anything to intentionally hurt ye.”
I remain quiet, trying to grapple with my feelings of betrayal and the feelings of longing that I’ve had since the moment I met him.
“If this is the end for us, that has to be your choice. Ye will ha’ to decide that there won’t ever be anything more between us because I canna.” He swallows before whispering, “I will be stuck here in this moment, forever, telling ye that I’m not giving up.”
Us.
My breathing halts before coming out in quick, rapid pants. My eyes water and my throat burns. I forgive him, and I do understand. But I can’t find the right words to portray that. Tears begin flowing as I gaze into the depths of his green eyes, which are flooded with emotion as he holds his breath, awaiting my response.
I gently hold his hand to my face, barely managing to whisper, “This is not our end.”
He leans his forehead against mine, our breaths mingling together as we savor this moment. I angle my head up towards him, our lips just a hair’s breadth apart. I hunger for the touch of his lips on mine. To soothe the burning that has begun in my soul.
A loud knock echoes through the room, the moment crumbling around us.
“Lena! Did you want to get some lunch?” Mathilda’s voice calls through the closed door.
Lachlan rolls his eyes, and I chuckle. The tension between us melts away completely.
“Yes, I’m starving!” I call back loudly.
I look back at him. “I think it’ll take more than apologies to grant you kisses now, anyway. I need to see some actions, not just words,” I throw over my shoulder as I walk to the door.
