Chapter 33
Chapter Thirty-Three
“Ineed to see Elizabeth,” he called hoarsely, leaning against the door to the Grisham London townhouse.
Alasdair knocked. He knocked hard, even though everything hurt.
It felt like forever, him trying to get into the house to see her. But it might just be the pain that made time stretch before him.
Finally, the butler opened it. He turned pale as soon as he saw the state Alasdair was in.
“Please. I need to see Elizabeth. I think me wife is here.”
The servant only hesitated a moment. Then, he let him in.
“Your Grace, please come to the parlor. I will ask someone to attend to you. Have you not seen a physician?” the butler asked politely.
“I need to see Elizabeth,” he insisted, even though he could not straighten himself to his full height.
The butler hastily turned around, and Alasdair wondered if he was on the way to get some help or find Elizabeth. He was not insane. He knew he needed both, but the latter seemed more urgent at the moment.
“Well, then,” someone called out from the dark corner of the parlor.
Alasdair turned to see Lady Grisham sipping tea and looking particularly smug. She had raised an eyebrow at him.
“Good evenin’, Lady Grisham,” he greeted even as he grimaced from the pain.
“Well, it seems that even ruined men do crawl back to what they’d abandoned,” she rasped, sneering at him.
Bloodied and hastily bandaged, Alasdair met the older woman’s gaze without flinching.
“I have nothing to be ashamed of before ye, Lady Grisham. But I canna say the same for Elizabeth. I’ve done her wrong. Yet, when I think on it, it’s you who’s truly shameful in this house. Ye and your cruelty. Elizabeth deserves better.”
“How noble,” she mocked, as she rose to her feet. “Let’s be honest with each other. I know your kind. Elizabeth might be a beautiful girl, but she’d be nothing but a passing fancy for someone like you.”
“Someone like me?” repeated Alasdair incredulously, pointing at himself. “Lady Grisham, ye daenae ken me, and ye certainly do ken me feelings for yer stepdaughter. Aye, I doubt ye ken anything about feelings at all.”
Her lips parted to retort, but then—
Footsteps echoed in the hallway.
Elizabeth entered the parlor with Wilhelmina beside her. She halted when she saw him, and the color drained from her face.
“Alasdair?” she breathed, hand flying to her chest.
Did no one tell her I was here? Alasdair wondered.
Despite the pain, he gave her his full attention. Seeing her, finally seeing her, steadied him in a way nothing else could. The only reason he was still on his feet was the thought of reaching her. Of making things right.
Elizabeth crossed the room in seconds. Her right hand trembled as it hovered near the bruises on his face. He must have looked half-dead.
“You’re hurt! W-what happened? Was it Kittridge, or his men?” she asked urgently.
Before Alasdair could speak, Lady Grisham cut in, voice shrill with offense.
“Elizabeth, remember that this man let you walk out of his house. He let you taint your reputation, and your sister’s, when you married him. And now you let his empty promises sway you again? Think, girl!”
Alasdair stepped forward, his voice darker now, clipped and cold. “That’s enough.”
Lady Grisham blinked at him.
“I’ve had enough of your poison,” he growled. “Say another word to her like that, and I will nae care whose parlor we’re standin’ in. I’ll tell ye precisely what I think of the way ye’ve treated yer stepdaughters, and what ye deserve in return.”
His voice echoed with restrained rage. Elizabeth touched his arm gently. Her presence alone calmed him. He turned toward her. She stepped in front of him.
“No, Alasdair. Let me.”
Their eyes met. He gave her a nod and took a quiet step back.
Elizabeth turned fully to face her stepmother.
“Lady Grisham,” she said, calm but commanding.
“It’s my turn now. Let me remind you: I was part of the Grisham family before you ever married into it.
Marianne, Daniel, and I had hopes. We thought our father had found a woman who might make him better.
We wanted to believe that we were getting a mother. ”
Her voice didn’t shake. It rang out, clear and unyielding.
“But you never gave us that chance. Not really. When your own daughters were born, you barely stayed for them. You were a figurehead. Not a mother.”
Lady Grisham’s jaw dropped, but Elizabeth continued before she could recover.
“You’ve ruled this household with coldness and cruelty. We thought that without our father here, things might finally become peaceful. But your return? It’s been anything but.”
“Wilhelmina,” Lady Grisham snapped, turning toward her younger daughter with desperation, “surely you won’t stand for this—”
“No, Mother.” Wilhelmina replied quietly. “You’ve shown me no love. Only correction. Only rules. I won’t defend that.”
Lady Grisham recoiled as if slapped.
Elizabeth pressed on. “Instead of helping us hope for love, for joy, you tried to break us. You manipulated us. Smothered us. Made us think we were never enough.”
“I made you,” Lady Grisham spat.
“No. You diminished us. You made this house a place of silence and shame. Not a home.”
Wilhelmina stepped forward, nodding. “Elizabeth is right.”
The older woman looked from one daughter to the other, realization dawning that she stood entirely alone.
“I won’t stand for this, not in my own house,” she huffed, turned, trembling with fury, and stormed out of the parlor.
The silence she left behind felt like fresh air.
Finally, there was room to breathe.
Elizabeth hadn’t expected to see him again.
Not like this.
Not battered and bruised, blood still drying at his collar, his shirt torn at the seams and stained dark with pain. But there he was.
Alasdair, standing in the Grisham parlor as if no time had passed, as if their last words hadn’t left her hollowed out. Her heart twisted painfully at the sight of him. He looked like a man who had walked through fire and only barely made it out.
And somehow, he had come to her.
Still, she didn’t run to him. Not right away. She needed to breathe. She needed to remember who she was before he stepped into her life and made everything different.
Her eyes flicked to the stairwell. She saw the familiar faces of Daphne and Victoria peeking out from behind the banister. Wilhelmina caught her gaze and gave a small, wry smile.
“I’ll see to them,” she said gently. “They’ll be fine, Lizzie. They’ve grown up with our mother, remember? It’s nothing they haven’t seen before.”
Elizabeth nodded faintly, her throat too tight to speak. When Wilhelmina slipped from the room, the silence that followed was deafening.
It was just her and Alasdair now.
And so many words between them.
“I’ll call for a physician,” Elizabeth broke the silence.
“There’s nae—”
“Stop, Alasdair. You need help,” she cut him off and rang for a maid, instructing her to fetch for the nearest physician.
The maid scurried off after a curtsy, leaving them alone once again.
“I thought I would never see you again,” she said at last, her voice quieter than she intended. It came out like a truth she’d been holding inside since the night he left.
“I felt the same,” he replied, his voice hoarse. “But I kenned… only death could keep me away from ye.”
Her heart thudded. It was the kind of thing he might say to make her laugh, normally. A bit dramatic. A bit absurd.
But not now.
“Don’t say that,” she whispered, stepping forward. “It’s a horrible thing to think about.”
“I almost dinnae make it,” he said simply.
She froze. The words hit her harder than she was prepared for.
“It was Kittridge, wasn’t it?” she asked, eyes searching his injuries. “He tried to kill you.”
“Aye.”
“And still you went to him,” she said, voice rising. “Even after you had proof. Even after all that. Alasdair, what were you thinking?”
“I wasnae thinking clearly,” he admitted. “I was angry. I needed to look the bastard in the eye. I needed him to ken what he’d done.”
“You could have died,” she said again, more quietly this time. “And all the things you fought for would have died with you.”
He took a step closer. “Aye. I ken. I ken that now. But even then, even when I was fighting him, all I could think about was ye. Yer laughter, yer voice, the way ye look at me when ye think I can’t see.”
She blinked rapidly. No one had ever spoken about her that way.
Like she was a whole world someone wanted to live in.
“I was afraid,” she admitted. “I thought we were building something real. Something safe. Then you walked away.”
“I was a coward,” he said, his voice breaking. “I told myself I was protectin’ ye, but truth is, I dinnae want to ask ye to wait for a man who might not come back. I dinnae want to see fear in yer eyes every time I walked out the door.”
She looked away. “And what did you see when I left our home, heartbroken and alone? Did you think I’d be fine? That I’d simply… pick myself up?”
“I thought I was savin’ ye pain. I dinnae realize I was causin’ it.”
He dropped his gaze, then slowly, deliberately, he lowered himself to his knees.
Elizabeth gasped. “Don’t. Don’t do that—”
“I have to,” he said thickly. “Let me grovel, Elizabeth. Let me kneel in front of ye like the fool I’ve been. Because I was wrong. About everything.”
He looked up at her from the ground, his hands shaking.
“I made ye a promise when I asked for yer hand, that I would be better than every man who ever thought to court ye. And instead, I turned into another man who left. Who made ye feel small, like yer love was a burden instead of a blessing.”
Her throat closed. She remembered that day clearly.
“I never meant to leave ye waitin’ in silence. I should have trusted ye enough to let ye stand beside me, as me equal. I should have come back sooner. I should have told ye everythin’.”
She pressed a hand to her mouth, her heart breaking all over again.
“I daenae deserve ye,” he whispered. “But I came because… I love ye. I love ye, Elizabeth. I think I’ve loved ye from the moment ye looked at me like I was worth listenin’ to.
Like I was more than a savage from the Highlands.
I’ve loved ye from the moment ye trusted me to help ye.
When ye let me hold yer hand and kissed me like ye’d meant it. ”
She could no longer breathe.
“I love ye,” he said again, as if it were a prayer. “Not for convenience. Not for comfort. I love ye because ye are strong and kind and clever. Because when I look at ye, I feel like I can be better. Like I already am.”
She sank to her knees in front of him.
“Oh, Alasdair,” she whispered, her fingers brushing his jaw. “You broke my heart, but… but I don’t want it back. I want to give it to you again, even knowing it might hurt.”
“I’ll protect it this time,” he promised. “With everything I have. Even if it takes a lifetime to make up for what I did.”
“I’m still scared,” she whispered. “But I can’t let fear rule me anymore. I want to choose hope. I want to choose us.”
He blinked hard, as if afraid the moment might vanish if he moved. “Does that mean…”
“I choose you,” she said, her voice stronger now. “Not because it’s brave or because I ought to. I choose you because I love you. I didn’t know what love was until I looked for you and found you gone. I didn’t know it until I feared I’d never see you again.”
A long breath escaped him. His shoulders trembled.
Then, he pulled her into his arms.
They were careful, slow, for his side still ached, and she cradled his head as if afraid the world might break it again. But it didn’t matter. They had found each other again.
When they kissed, it wasn’t wild or desperate. It wasn’t about passion or victory or need.
It was soft. Steady.
It was the kind of kiss that said we’re safe now.
The kind that said we’re home.
And neither of them needed to say another word.
Not yet. Not when they could simply hold on.