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It’s not the irritation I half expected.

It’s something softer.

She doesn’t pull away.

And for the first time in a long time, I don’t second-guess what I’m about to say.

My grip stays firm, but my thumb moves—slow, steady circles against the delicate skin of her wrist.

“You saved me,” I murmur, my voice low but certain. “Directly, indirectly... Naught but a broken lad arrived in Connemara, Little Doe. And you—” I shake my head, the words thick in my throat, “—you breathed life back into me in ways I can never repay.”

I swallow hard. “That’s who you are—a healer.”

A breath shudders through her. Then, before I can react, she launches herself at me, arms wrapping around my neck in a fierce, unrestrained hug.

I barely catch her, my hands seizing her waist as she collides into me, clutching me as if she never intends to let go. Her grip is desperate, and without hesitation, my own arms tighten around her, holding her just as fiercely.

She leans in, her breath ghosting against my ear.

“I’ve always loved who I am with you,” she whispers.

I close my eyes, fighting the ache in my chest, the longing that coils deep inside me.

She leans back slowly, just enough to meet my gaze. Her fingers skim my jaw—tentative, searching. And before I can even process what’s happening, she presses the softest, slowest kiss to my cheek.

It lingers.

Steady. Certain.

And then, just as quickly, she pulls away and turns, walking toward her room without another word.

I stand there, frozen, watching her go.

And all I can do is feel—the ghost of her touch, the whisper of her breath, the truth of everything I’ve ever wanted wrapped up in a single moment.

Damn it all.

I am nothing without her.

Triona

Sunday, 1 June 1823

Casa da Prímula

The door to my room is closed, but faint light spills from beneath it. I hear footsteps pause outside, then soft voices. My body tenses as I clutch the embroidered pillow tighter against my chest.

“Are you sure about this?” Deidre’s voice is low, trembling with worry.

Amelia’s answer is quieter but firm. “She needs to know we’re here. Even if she doesn’t want to see us right now.”

Deidre hesitates. “I’ll go in first to see if she’s upset.”

“Bless you, love,” Amelia murmurs.

A light tap on the door makes me flinch. “Triona? It’s me and Amelia,” Deidre calls gently. “Can we come in?”

For a moment, I don’t answer. I don’t know if I want to see anyone, but the silence feels heavier than my thoughts. Finally, I manage, “Fine.” My voice sounds distant, like it belongs to someone else.