He looked delighted by their reactions. “I only say it because I shall nae be here forever.”
“Ye shall say nay such thing,” Ava snapped.
Her father raised his hands in mock surrender. “Just something to think about, dearie.”
Ava shook her head, half laughing, half near tears again from the simple relief of hearing him speak nonsense in his usual tone.This was what home sounded like—dry humor and affection hidden under complaint.
At last, her father grabbed the arms of the chair and rose with more care than Ava would have liked.
“I am going to rest,” he announced. “If I stay here any longer, ye will begin discussing what soup or potion I should take.”
“Ye need both,” Ava said.
“Nay, lass. What I need right now is sleep.”
Isobel folded her hands across her chest in utter disagreement. “Nay, me Laird. Ye need a healer.”
The older man shook his head. “Nay. What I need is silence.”
Bruce was on his feet before he finished.
Ava stood too, her hands held out in case her father swayed, but he only steadied himself once and straightened with the stubbornness of a man who refused to look weak in front of anyone. He touched her cheek briefly as he passed.
“I am here, lass.”
Ava squeezed his hand. “I ken.”
He moved toward the door, and Isobel opened it before he reached it. Bruce trotted out after him, pausing only long enough to look back at Ava as if checking whether she meant to join the procession. Then he followed his master into the corridor.
Ava stood where she was and watched them go.
The room felt warmer now, even fuller. Her father was alive under Ciaran’s roof. Bruce was at his heels. Isobel was still beside her. The fear that had hollowed out the past days no longer ruled the space.
Yet the change reached further than relief. Her old life had crossed into her new one. There were too many people under one roof, and she didn’t know yet how to feel about the overlap.
“So…” Isobel whispered, her voice soft. “Yer father is here.”
“Aye,” Ava responded, the excitement that he was alive still thrumming in her blood.“Me father is here now.”
CHAPTER 23
Ciaran had goneto the tower for silence after leaving Ava’s chambers, but he found none.
The room usually gave him enough distance to think clearly. The telescope stood by the window, and the piano sat closed, its keys hidden.
He had work below, and he knew that. He had come up anyway, bringing with him a ledger he had not opened and a mind that kept wandering where he did not want it.
No matter how hard he tried, he simply couldn’t stop thinking about Ava. Even now, he couldn’t stop thinking about her face and how she had stared at him when he pushed that door open.
He was still trying to get her out of his head when a knock sounded at the door. He turned at once, already irritated with himself for not wanting company and for knowing exactly who stood outside before a word was spoken.
“Come in.”
Laird MacKenna stepped into the room, a small smile on his face.
Ciaran swallowed and watched the older man as he stepped in and closed the door behind him. He still bore the marks of the fire. The skin on his neck and the side of his face were healing slowly but they weren't as bad as they had been the day he arrived.
He moved carefully when he crossed the threshold, and a part of Ciaran almost wondered if he should help him to the nearest chair. Eventually, he found that he did not. The older man moved further into the room, with that small smile still on his lips.
