Stealing a Kilted Heart (Temptation in Tartan #8)

Chapter 30

CHAPTER THIRTY

T he stones were cold under Fia’s body. She sat under the window across the door to Knox’s chambers. She rested her chin on her knees, her legs drawn up to her with her arms wrapped around them, her cloak resting over her shoulders, and she looked resolutely forward at the intricate carved patterns on the door rather than the two guards outside it.

They were both restless. Neither of them knew what to do with her, and they had tried to urge her to return to her rooms multiple times, worried that she would be too cold in the middle of the hallway, but she refused to budge. If Knox didn’t want to see her, then she would simply wait for him until he was ready.

She had to try and explain everything to him. She didn’t expect him to forgive her or to go on with the wedding, but she wanted to at least have the chance to apologize for ever hurting him. It had all been so selfish of her, so foolish, gaining his favor just so she could have her revenge. She wished she could take it all back, but it was too late now. All she could do was wait and hope Knox would listen to her, even if just long enough for her to apologize.

She couldn’t even blame Callum for this. It wasn’t his fault. Sooner or later, the truth would have come out and though Fia would rather it would have happened in some other way, more privately, more gently, she was glad it had at least happened before the wedding. It would have been disingenuous of her to go on with it when she had been lying to Knox, even by omission, and so in a way, she was relieved this had happened.

At least now her secret was out in the open and everyone knew the truth.

In front of her, one of the guards shifted his weight nervously from one foot to the other. Fia could sense that he kept glancing at her, but she was neither willing to move nor speak. As long as Knox was in that room, she was determined to stay out there.

In the end, it was that guard who knocked on Knox’s door and disappeared inside. Fia couldn’t hear their conversation from where she sat, but a few moments later, Knox appeared at the door and Fia sat a little straighter, her heart skipping beat after beat.

With a sigh, he approached her and offered her his hand, helping her up before guiding her inside the room. Knox closed the door behind them, and it had hardly shut before the words tumbled past her lips.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I never thought it would get tae this. I understand if ye hate me now but I needed tae apologize tae ye,” she said breathlessly, hiccupping when she managed to pause for a moment. “Ye have every right tae be furious an’… an’ tae send me away, but please, please let Bane stay in the castle. I beg ye. He isnae involved in this.”

With another weary sigh, Knox leaned against the door, letting his head fall against it with a dull thud. He closed his eyes, a hand running through his hair before he opened them again to gaze at Fia.

He seemed to be having some trouble with it, as though he couldn’t bear to look at her, and that, more than anything else, filled her with such grief that she felt as though her chest was collapsing into itself. It was such a real, palpable proof of his own pain, such a mark of her betrayal that she could hardly stand to be confronted by it.

“I want tae ken the truth,” he said, finally meeting her gaze. “All o’ it.”

What was there for Fia to lose by telling him everything? Half of it had already been revealed, after all, and she wanted him to know the whole truth. She wanted him to understand that she didn’t do it out of evil but out of despair and foolishness.

“When Magnus came tae me cottage in Duror, I thought… I thought it was me chance,” she said. “Ye see, I told ye about a man who hurt me. That man was Callum.”

Knox’s eyes widened ever so slightly in surprise, but he must have suspected something, as he wasn’t as shocked as Fia would expect. It was only natural, she thought, considering how Callum had burst into the room, accusing her of taking advantage of everyone and tricking them. She waited for him to say something, but when he remained silent, she continued, forcing herself to keep her gaze steadily on him.

“He… he kept tellin’ me that he would marry me an’ that we would spend the rest o’ our lives together, but in the end, he revealed it was all fer a bet that he had with his friends. All he wanted was tae bed me an’ then leave me. He never once respected me or wished tae be with me because he said I was naethin’ but a poor peasant lass. That I was far beneath him, so I was a fool tae ever think he could love me. So, when Magnus came tae Duror, I thought it was me chance tae prove him wrong. I thought… I dinnae ken what I thought. I thought if ye fell fer me, if I could marry ye, then I would prove him an’ everyone else who doubted me wrong. I would show them I’m nae beneath anyone. I would show them I’m worthy o’… o’ love.”

It may have been in her mind, but Fia could have sworn Knox’s expression softened upon hearing that. It didn’t hurt that it sounded as though the words were being torn out of her, her tone so pained and full of grief that she could hardly recognize her own voice. But Fia wasn’t finished yet. She wanted Knox to know everything.

“But when we were watchin’ the stars, I kent I couldnae dae this tae ye,” she continued. “I wanted tae tell ye the truth. When I came tae ye the other night, I was about tae confess everythin’, but then ye proposed tae me an’… an’ I was so happy, Knox. Nae because I’d prove anyone wrong—I didnae care about that anymore. Because I loved ye… I love ye. Ye cannae imagine the shame I feel fer ever hurtin’ ye, fer ever thinkin’ that deceivin’ ye was a good idea. But I promise ye, me feelings fer ye are real. None o’ it was a lie.”

There was nothing more left in Fia. There was nothing more she could share with him, and she felt as though all the air had left her, her shoulders deflating as she stared at him, waiting for his response. For a long time, he said nothing. He only remained silent, his gaze glued to the floor, his brows stitched together as if deep in thought.

When he finally looked back up at her, he seemed to be unraveling at the seams.

“I believe ye,” he said, much to her relief. “It still hurts an’ I still… I still need tae think about this. But I believe ye an’ I think it took plenty o’ courage fer ye tae come here an’ confess all this tae me.”

Fia didn’t know if she would call it courage. Stubbornness perhaps, and a deep, ingrained need to make sure she didn’t hurt anyone with her actions or, if she did, to lessen the pain as much as she could. But while they were on the matter of deception, there was something else she had to tell Knox.

“There is… there is another thing,” she admitted, and Knox froze like a deer under the eye of a skilled hunter, expecting the worst. “Bane isnae interested in… ye ken… men. I only said it so ye wouldnae fash about him. But I promise ye, he is me braither. I’d never, ever consider him as anything else.”

Knox was stunned at first, frowning as if confused, but then he huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. Some of the tension between them finally dissipated, and despite herself, Fia found herself chuckling as well, covering her face with a hand to hide her blush.

Another foolish thing to have said, she thought. At least Knox didn’t seem to mind so much.

“I see,” he said. “But he never said anythin’.”

“I asked him tae keep silent,” Fia admitted. “An’ he did, although he wasnae pleased and insisted I tell ye the truth.”

Knox nodded slowly, taking in the new information. “Anythin’ else ye’d like tae share?”

“Aye,” she said. “I also hate whisky.”

This time, Knox laughed loudly, startling even himself. When he took a few hesitant steps forward, Fia froze, wondering what was to come next, but he only took her hand in his and held it tightly, gazing into her eyes.

“Ye’re impossible,” he told her. “But curse me if I dinnae still love ye.”

“The weddin’ plans will proceed as scheduled,” Knox said the following morning in his council meeting.

Ever since Callum’s return, whose mission had yielded no results, Knox had dreaded the moment he would have to be in the same room with him once more—not so much because he didn’t want to displease him, but rather because some of the elders considered him an obvious choice for the position of the warleader simply because his father had been such a great and capable man. Yet now the time had come. It seemed to Knox that he couldn’t avoid the man, especially since a proper report of his mission was needed, and so now Callum stood in the corner of the room, cloaked in shadows.

Knox had bigger problems than an entitled, petulant man, though. Immediately after his announcement, the elders all stood from their chairs, protests filling the room, just as Knox had expected. He hadn’t come here empty-handed, though. He had cold, hard evidence and he would use it.

“I understand yer frustration,” he called over all the shouting, prompting the elders to quiet down one by one and listen to him. “What ye heard last night may have swayed some o’ ye but I ken Fia’s heart an’ I ken she would be the best wife tae me an’ the best lady fer our clan. Ye saw how she handled everythin’ ye threw at her these past few weeks. Ye saw her resilience, her character, her kindness. Everythin’ ye demanded, she did it. Everythin’ fer which ye wished, she gave. Why dae ye still insist on bein’ against her? So what if she is a peasant lass? She has shown more strength than any noble lass I ken.”

Whispers rippled once more through the council. They couldn’t contradict his claims, not when everyone knew just how well Fia had done by his side already. The people loved her—the peasants, the servants, the merchants, everyone had a good word to say about her and they had all already accepted her as the Lady of the Clan. The elders may have been powerful in Knox’s study; they may have been the authority on war and diplomacy and trade, but when it came to the real world, to everyday matters, it was the people who had the last say.

And the people had chosen Fia.

“This is preposterous,” Cairn said, just as Knox had expected. Despite the facts, despite all the effort Fia had put into proving herself, Cairn still refused to see her value, and as the most senior of the elders, Knox had no choice but to listen to him. An if, in the end, he managed to sway even those elders who were willing to give Fia a chance, then Knox would have a real problem in his hands. “The lass is still a peasant! She is beneath ye, me laird.”

“I dinnae consider her beneath me,” Knox said, with as much patience as he could muster. “I dinnae consider any man or woman beneath me. Why should I? I had the privilege tae be born the son of a laird, but why should that make me better than anyone else? Dae ye think I have more value than ye, Cairn? Ye’re an elder. Ye’ve served me an’ me faither well. Ye’re an indispensable part o’ our clan. But ye consider yerself beneath me?”

Murmurs spread through the crowd once more, once again conflicted. Some of the elders could see Knox’s reasoning, others still considered peasants beneath him, and others still considered him to be the most important man in the keep—and perhaps so it was, in terms of politics and finance. But Knox didn’t consider himself better than everyone else on account of his pedigree.

“It is unprecedented,” Cairn said, insisting while changing tactics at the same time. “Nae other laird has ever wedded a peasant.”

“In our clan, perhaps,” said Knox. “But it isnae unheard o’.”

“That is true,” another of the elders said. “It will attract some… attention, but it’s happened afore.”

“What happens if we dinnae come tae an agreement?” another elder asked and everyone, including Knox, fell silent. He didn’t have an answer to that question and neither did any of the elders, he knew. He wasn’t going to change his mind, so if they refused to allow this marriage, then the only way Knox could think of moving forward was if he stepped down and handed over the lairdship to someone else. But how could he choose between love and duty?

“I think we can all understand what will happen if we dinnae, so I must ask ye now…. are we in agreement?” Magnus asked, taking the lead, and then counted the votes of the elders. Eight of them were—four were not.

That was good enough for Knox.

Relief washed over him when he realized he and Fia could finally wed without anyone trying to stop them. Now he could finally rest easy and focus on the next task—the next war leader, the role that had been left vacant for far too long.

“Good,” he said. “Now, on tae the next matter… a new war leader must be appointed. A decision has already been made.”

From the corner of his eye, Knox caught Callum standing a little straighter, taking a small step forward as if expecting to be called. He was impatient, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, eager to take on his late father’s role, but Knox ignored him. If he was under the impression he would become the next war leader after his performance, then he was truly a fool, Knox thought.

“It wasnae a decision I made lightly,” Knox continued, looking at the elders one by one. “An’ I am sure ye will find me choice more than satisfactory. Some o’ ye already ken who me choice is an’ have expressed yer support. The rest o’ ye may be surprised but ken that I chose this man because o’ his skill an’ talent an’ ye’ll soon see he is the only choice fer this role.”

In his corner, Callum faltered a little, much to Knox’s delight. He deserved to be put in his place, he thought, to realize he was not the man he thought himself to be.

Knox let his gaze rest on Callum for a moment before he dragged it over to the other side of the room. “Malcolm Stuart, please step forward,” he said. “Congratulations are in order. I hope ye will make this clan proud.”

Malcolm, a young man descending from a neighboring branch of the Stuart Clan stepped in from the corner of the room, where he had been waiting in the shadows throughout the meeting. He was a skilled warrior—Knox had fought with him and he knew the strength he carried, not only in his body, but also in his mind. Never before had Knox met such a brilliant strategist.

“I can vouch fer his skills personally,” Knox said, tilting his head in acknowledgement when Malcolm bowed to him. “But if there are any concerns, please address them tae me or directly tae Malcolm.”

From the other corner of the room, Callum met Knox’s gaze. Though the man said nothing, Knox could see the hatred in his eyes, the way he barely restrained himself from the clench of his jaw.

Within moments, he stormed out of the room.

Fia could hardly believe the day had come. She had spent so much of her life feeling worthless, so much of it craving love and attention, seeking it in all the wrong places, but now that was all over. If there was one thing she knew, it was that Knox wouldn’t hurt her like that.

She still didn’t know how he had managed to convince the council that she was the right woman for him. When she had asked, he told her it was she who had convinced them with her prowess, but Fia didn’t believe it. Surely, he thought, he must have told them something to sway them.

Soon, she would have to get ready for the ceremony. But for now, she was just outside the castle walls, gathering flowers to adorn her hair, just like she had always imagined as a little girl. Effie had insisted that she take some flowers from the garden, but Fia preferred the wildflowers—their scents, their colors, their untamed nature. Besides, it was a lovely day, a rare sunny morning when the sunlight warmed her skin, and she wanted to enjoy it.

“They’re very bonnie.”

The familiar voice brought Fia to a sudden halt. Her blood turned to ice in her veins and her heart thumped so fast she feared it would explode. She never thought she would have to endure this again, but when she turned around slowly, hesitantly, Callum was right there.

She hadn’t imagined it.

“What dae ye want?” she forced herself to ask through gritted teeth. “I dinnae wish tae hear any more o’ yer insults?—”

“I came tae apologize,” Callum said and Fia froze once more, wondering if this could possibly be a hallucination. Callum, apologizing? Not in her wildest dreams would she have ever thought it possible. “I see the error o’ me ways. What I did tae ye… it was despicable.”

Fia narrowed her eyes as she regarded him, wondering if he was lying to her. But he had no reason to lie. As wary as she was of him, he could have simply avoided her for the rest of his life, never once offering an apology if he hadn’t wanted to. Besides, she saw no reason to hold any animosity now that she was stepping into her new role, into her new life. She had thrived, even against all odds.

Even against Callum.

“I appreciate that,” she said with a soft nod. “I truly dae. An’ I forgive ye, Callum, but I’d rather we dinnae meet again.”

“I understand,” Callum said, oddly amenable. Fia had never seen him like this before, not even when he had first began to court her. “I’ll leave ye be, then. Thank ye fer listenin’ tae me.”

With one last nod as farewell, Fia returned to her flowers and didn’t wait to see Callum depart.

That was her biggest mistake. Moments later, a dull pain exploded in the back of her skull, drawing a pained gasp out of her. A pair of strong hands caught her just as she collapsed, and soon she was being dragged away, the castle getting smaller and smaller in the distance.

The last thing she saw before the world went dark was Callum’s face, devoid of any emotion.