Chapter 32
Ava was dressed before the maids came back with hot water the next morning.
She had been awake long before dawn, lying stiff in the narrow space between sleep and wakefulness until the first pale light reached the bed curtains.
After that, she had risen at once. There had been no use in pretending she might change her mind between one breath and the next.
The crying had been done in the dark. This morning, she needed to grow a bit steadier.
So she dressed.
Her fingers were slower than usual over buttons and ribbons because her wrists still hurt from the rope.
The scrape on her cheek pulled when she turned her head too quickly.
Her shoulder gave a dull throb each time she lifted her arm, but none of it mattered compared to the heavy ache she carried lower and deeper, the one with Ciaran’s voice in it.
She ignored that too and fastened the last of her things with care.
When she opened her chamber door, the passageway beyond was already busy with the tap of feet and lowered voices. She had pulled out her trunk when she was packing earlier from the foot of the bed and strapped closed. Two smaller cases stood ready beside it.
Ava nodded for a maid to take them down.
The sight of her things packed and carried away tightened something in her throat. It was one thing to decide in the morning that she would leave. It was another to watch her belongings leave the room, one box at a time.
Bruce arrived before breakfast, scratching at the half-open door with indignant energy until one of the servants gave in and let him barrel inside. He came straight to Ava, his paws muddy, his ears up, his tail beating hard enough to knock against the bedpost.
She bent and gathered him close despite the dirt, pressing her face briefly into the rough fur at his neck.
“Well,” she whispered, “at least one gentleman in this castle has never once left me in doubt.”
Bruce licked her chin in answer.
Her father came in just behind him, one arm still bandaged and his face distraught. Even so, he stood steadily as usual, which was still a comfort. He had washed, dressed, and combed back his hair.
“Are ye ready, lass?”
Ava straightened. “Aye.”
He studied her for a moment, reading more than she wished him to, then gave a short nod as if he had decided not to force comfort where she could not take it.
After that, breakfast came and went in pieces. Ava managed bread and a little tea because refusing food would only cause more arguments than needed. Her father ate more, while Bruce sat under the table and thumped his tail every time either of them shifted a foot.
The ordinary sounds of the meal made the morning feel calmer than it was. Cups touched saucers, and a maid came in with fresh linen. Someone carried the last case down the passage.
Each small act said the same thing: This is happening.
By the time they moved out of her room and into the broader stir of the castle, horses were already being saddled below.
Her trunks had been loaded, and a maid passed by carrying a wrapped bundle of food for the road.
Another asked whether extra blankets should be tied behind the cart. Her father answered that they should.
Ava stood for a second at the top of the stairs and watched the movement below.
She had lived in this castle long enough now to know and recognize all the sounds it made.
She recognized the way the servants crossed the hall in the early morning and the distinct smell of woodsmoke when the day began.
She had begun to fit here. That was part of what made leaving hurt so much. She was not fleeing a place that had never opened up to her. She was leaving a place that had, just not far enough, and never safely enough.
Her father came to stand beside her, and for a brief second, she wondered if he also appreciated the same things she did in the castle. But then, he hadn’t been here long enough to recognize those patterns.
“When we reach Castle MacLeod, ye shall have yer old rooms,” he said. “The east rooms too, if ye prefer more sun. We will see what the roofers say about the north wing before winter deepens.”
Ava looked at him. “Thank ye.”
He gave a small shrug that almost said saying thanks was unnecessary. Then, in the same practical tone, he added, “Once we are settled, I will see the annulment done.”
The words were plain. They were also kind, because he was taking her pain seriously enough to put his name and duty behind it. Ava felt the mercy and grief of it in the same beat as her hand closed around the rail.
“Aye.”
No one around them stopped moving, and yet for Ava, the morning had changed entirely. Leaving here had felt like a distant emotion. Something she could return to when she was done feeling this intense anger and hurt. Now it felt like something that actually had structure.
Her father would see it done. There would be papers and names and a lawful ending set in motion by people who loved her enough to make room for what she could not survive otherwise.
A lad came to say the horses would be ready shortly. Her father nodded and sent him off.
Bruce trotted between them and then back again as if he meant to supervise all the preparations himself. The sight of him should have made Ava smile more than it did. She lowered a hand to his head and let it rest there.
“Ye need nae do this in a rush,” her father said.
Ava looked out into the yard where the stableboys were fastening the last straps. “If I daenae leave now, I may fail to leave at all.”
He was quiet for a moment. “That is still yer choice.”
She knew that. No one was dragging her out of the castle. No one was making a scene over her departure. She was choosing it with her eyes open, because staying had become a slower kind of injury, and she had no wish to stand for more of it.
A maid came with her cloak, and Ava let it be draped around her shoulders. The wool smelled faintly of lavender from storage and fresh air from the open door.
Below them, a man called that the cart was ready.
Her father moved first. Bruce followed him halfway down the stairs and then turned back to make sure Ava followed. She did, one hand light on the rail, the other holding her cloak closed at her throat.
The next thing left to endure was goodbye.
She saw Ciaran the moment he stepped into the yard.
Her breath caught before she could stop it.
He had changed clothes since the cliff, yet the morning still clung to him.
His hair was brushed back with too little care, and there was a cut on his left hand she did not remember seeing before, likely earned in the struggle to drag her back.
He looked as though he had not slept either.
He came. That mattered. Yet for some reason, it hurt that it mattered.
She struggled as hard as she could to make herself stand still. She could feel her father pause beside her, with Bruce tucked under his arm like a badly behaved child being carried away against his will.
Ciaran stopped a few feet away.
For one second, no one spoke. Then her father did.
“Once we are settled, I shall see the marriage annulled.”
Ciaran’s face changed. It was only slightly, but Ava saw it anyway.
Her father spoke no further. He adjusted Bruce under his arm when the little dog gave an offended yip and looked toward the gate as if to give them a bit of privacy. He then took a few steps to the nearest horse, almost as if he realized that doing that simply would not be enough.
Ciaran’s eyes remained on Ava. “How are ye feeling?”
The question struck her so wrongly that she almost laughed.
How was she feeling?
Alive? Humiliated? Torn open? Still able to remember the feel of his arms dragging her back from death? Still able to hear his voice on the cliff, saying she meant nothing to him? Which of these lovely examples would she give to the curious man standing before her?
Eventually, she settled on what seemed the kindest answer.
“Excellent. It is great to hear how much yer husband doesnae want ye.” The words came out sharp and clean.
Her father’s jaw tightened. Bruce let out a small, unhappy whine.
Ava did not look at them. She kept her eyes on Ciaran because he ought to hear it from her face as well as her mouth.
Pain flashed across his face, and he stepped closer. “Ava.”
She held her ground.
“This isnae the place,” he said.
“It was a cliff yesterday. I think a yard can survive it.”
He moved again, quick enough this time that she had no chance to step back. His hand closed around her arm and pulled her toward him with a force that made her heart slam hard against her ribs. Her body knew him too well and answered before her pride could tighten around the reaction.
“Ye ken that’s nae true, wife.” His voice had gone low. Urgent.
Those words might have undone her once, but now? Now, they only hurt.
She lifted her chin. “Do I? Ye’ve done everything ye could to show me the opposite.”
His grip flexed, tightened, then slackened all at once as if he had caught himself doing something he didn’t want to do. The struggle on his face might have moved her if she had not already spent so many nights trying to wonder how exactly to get through to him.
“Ava, listen to me,” he started.
“I have done little else.”
“Ye must understand. Everything I said on the cliff was for him. I needed to say something to get to ye, and ye ken that. That was for him.”
“And the annulment was for whom?” Her voice shook, but she pushed through it. “Was he there during all those times as well?”
He looked as if she had struck him.
Perhaps she had. She had wanted the words to hurt because she was tired of being the only one who seemed to bleed openly from this marriage.
Around them, the yard had gone very still.
No servant looked directly at them now, which only meant they were listening harder.
Her father had turned his face away with studied restraint, though Bruce kept craning his neck to peer at both of them as if he understood what they were saying and would want nothing more than to contribute to the conversation.
Ciaran lowered his voice further. “Ava, ye must understand that I came for ye.”
Ava’s throat tightened. “Aye, ye did.”
“I killed for ye.”
“Ye cannae mention that and then think it will make me forget everything else.”
His hand slipped from her arm to her wrist.
That should have softened the moment, but if anything, it only deepened the pull she was fighting. He knew that, too. She saw it in the rough breath he took before speaking again.
“Ye ken what I had to do.”
She did know. That was part of the misery.
She was not stupid. She understood danger. She understood what Laird O’Malley had meant to do and why Ciaran had tried to shift his attention. But still, that wasn’t enough. She felt her eyes sting and hated that as well.
“What I ken,” she said, “is that every time I have needed the truth from ye, ye gave me half of one.”
“Ava.”
“Nay.” The word came out steady now. “I cannae build a life on what ye feel in moments when terror or wanting drags it out of ye. I cannae keep collecting scraps and calling it love.”
The last word hung between them.
Ciaran’s face changed again, more deeply this time. Still, no full rescue came with it. He stood close. He held her wrist. He looked at her as if the truth was inside him and yet could not come out, no matter how hard he tried.
Even now, she wanted him to say it.
Clearly.
Fully.
Once.
Still, he did not.
Ava looked down at his hand around her wrist, then stepped back. The loss of contact hit them both. She saw it. She felt it, too. Her whole body wanted to lean back toward him. She did not let it.
Her father came forward at once, saying nothing. He set Bruce down, took her elbow, and handed the dog to a servant while the groom brought her horse around.
The world moved around her again, and all the sound she had managed to drown out disappeared behind her.
Ava put her foot in the stirrup. She did not look at Ciaran until she was seated.
He stood where she had left him, one hand hanging in midair as if some part of him still believed the right word might come out if he waited another second. His face had gone hard with the effort of holding himself upright under everything left unsaid.
Ava’s chest hurt so badly she thought she might be sick. Then her father gave the signal, the groom stepped back, and the horse moved forward.
She rode past the gate without looking back, because if she did, she might turn. And if she turned, she might stay. And if she stayed, she would be placing her whole heart back into the hands of a man who had already shown her how easily he could fail it.
So she kept her eyes on the road ahead and let the castle fall behind her, carrying with her the full weight of the man she loved and the life she could no longer bear to hope for.
This was for the best.
It needed to be.