Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Amelia was sitting at the window seat in her chambers when Darragh entered. Jinny had reported that despite having the freedom to explore the keep, she’d spent most of her days here, alone. Even now, her arms were wrapped tightly around herself.
She looks like she’s tryin’ to hold herself together.
Afternoon light spilled through the window, turning dust motes into drifting gold and painting her in a heavenly glow.
For a long moment, he admired the soft line of her profile.
Then, realizing that his gaze was lingering, he cleared his throat and broke the moment.
She turned toward him slowly without answering.
Her grey-green eyes were dull, exhausted, when her gaze found him.
“Flora Morgan arrives within the week,” he said, his tone still clipped and formal, an attempt to maintain the professional distance he was trying to place between the two of them.
It was more difficult to do now that she was in front of him once again. Despite how tired she looked, she was gorgeous in this lighting. He remembered the feeling of her body against his and the short seconds that she’d returned the kiss he shouldn’t have initiated.
“Who?” Amelia asked, furrowing her brow.
“She is a lass that survived just like ye,” he explained, taking a slow step toward the center of her room. “I think that she may help ye.”
“Nay.”
The word came out fast, sharp enough to cut. She stood then, a wild look settling on her features. Her entire body was poised to run, and her hands shook at her sides.
“Ye cannae bring strangers to stare at me like I’m some broken thing,” she argued, accusatory and desperate. “Ye cannae.”
Darragh slid back, keeping his body language deliberately neutral and non-threatening. Calmly, he said, “She willnae judge ye, Amelia. She is like ye. She was part of the hunt just as ye were.”
Amelia’s breathing went ragged. He saw the way her expression shifted, anger warring with panic. It was something he was utterly ill-equipped to handle.
“I thought that I could stay until I was strong,” she said, her voice shaking.
“Ye can,” Darragh assured. “I meant everythin’ I’ve said to ye.”
She didn’t look as if she heard him. Her shoulders slumped as she made herself smaller. She shifted her weight to the balls of her feet, poised to run at any second.
“But ye want her to… to reach me,” she said, the words sticking in her throat. “Ye just want me to tell ye where I came from so ye can send me back.”
“Amelia—”
“Nay,” she cut him off with a sharp shake of her head. “Ye keep pressin’ and pressin’ for me secrets. Ye say ye’re nae goin’ to make me leave, but why else would ye be so intent on gettin’ me to open up? Is that why ye’ve given me me freedom?”
“I gave ye yer freedom because ye’re nae me prisoner,” he said, speaking to her as if she were a spooked horse. “And I’ve invited Flora to make ye more comfortable here. Ye’re allowed to stay.”
“Then stop tryin’ to send me back! Stop confusin’ me!
” Amelia cried, the fear finally seeming to gain control of her mind.
Her voice cracked as she continued, “Ye say this place isnae a prison, but ye confined me to me chambers. Ye dinnae even come to inform me ye were leavin’ and that me leash had been extended.
Where I was before was a cage, too! This one is just prettier than the tower they threw me into. ”
Darragh stepped closer slowly, carefully. She was wounded, and that could be dangerous for both of them. He couldn’t bear to maintain the distance, though. Not when she looked as though she were seconds from shattering.
“Nae one is sendin’ ye back anywhere,” he said, stopping himself before he invaded her space. “Flora is simply comin’ to visit to speak with ye.”
“Ye daenae understand,” she cried, unhearing. “I cannae go back. I willnae. I willnae. I willnae!”
Her breathing became unsteady and shallow, as if her lungs were rebelling against air. Darragh could no longer stand back, not when she looked as if she were seconds away from fainting. He crossed the distance instinctively, one hand lifting before he could think better of it.
His palm came to rest lightly against the center of her chest. Firmly, he instructed, “Breathe.”
Amelia froze at the contact, the shock of being touched seeming to dislodge the spiraling thoughts. Her eyes were still wide with terror when she found his gaze, but her body obeyed. She drew in a long but shaky breath, exhaling it through clenched teeth.
“Again,” he said, pressing his hand closer, giving her a grounding presence to focus on. “Breathe.”
Her chest rose, steadier now, then fell. The wild look in her eyes started to fade, the color returning to her cheeks. She looked more present, more grounded.
“That’s it, lass,” he soothed as her breathing slowly evened out. “Keep breathin’. Ye’re safe.”
Heat radiated through the fabric, and he could feel the way each pull of air became surer. It was as if she solidified beneath his touch. He stared at her in wonder, realizing that something had shifted between them.
I wonder why she’s nae pushin’ me away. When did she stop runnin’ from me?
Slowly, the frantic energy of the room faded. Amelia’s body, while still tense with the weight of everything she was refusing to tell him, relaxed slightly. She was leaning into the warmth of his palm, though he didn’t think she was fully aware of the comfort she was seeking.
“Ye’re safe here,” he said, his tone even and low. “Ye’re nae goin’ to be sent away.”
She nodded, the movement slow and deliberate. It seemed almost as if she were trying to convince herself of his statement. The trembling, however, had stopped.
Still, he didn’t remove his hand from her chest. He told himself that this was for her, to ensure she remained steady and didn’t faint or work herself into a frenzy.
It didn’t matter that he needed to feel that she was still breathing, that she was coming back to herself from that feral, animalistic place.
“Say ye understand,” Darragh said, his fingers pressing against her skin in slight encouragement. “Tell me ye understand that I willnae be givin’ ye away.”
Amelia sucked in more air, her lungs no longer protesting. Then, finally, she spoke, her voice still a bit shaky. “I understand.”
“Good,” he praised. “Fraser Keep is yer home as long as it’s the safest place for ye.”
She nodded again, swallowing hard. He could feel the effort it took.
Her body was slowly returning to her control.
For a moment, he let his hand linger. Then, with what felt like considerable effort, he let his hand fall to his side.
He stayed close, though, the distance between them feeling both too small and too wide.
* * *
Amelia felt as though she were a guest in her own body, the sensation intensifying when Darragh broke the contact. He’d somehow, completely without her permission, become her anchor. It was terrifying. It was exhilarating.
“I suppose,” she said, forcing herself to speak as though she weren’t still stitching herself back together, “ye still want answers.”
“Aye,” he said, his reply coming quick and sure.
The intensity of his look, the quiet expectation, made her entire body flush. His attention, though demanding, didn’t feel hostile any longer. She wasn’t sure how to react. The defensiveness and venom that she’d once used felt insufficient and inappropriate.
“What if it’s too awful to say out loud?” she murmured, looking at his chest rather than his face. To admit to being a liability to her father’s legacy felt unfathomably shameful. “What if admittin’ it makes it real?”
He was quiet for a long moment. Long enough that Amelia finally returned her gaze to his face. “When ye daenae speak of it, ye’re protectin’ the men who hurt ye,” he said, his restrained anger leaking through.
She wanted to tell him, recognizing that there was truth to what he said. The secrets she was carrying protected her, yes, but they also protected her father and every man who was responsible for her suffering.
“I cannae trust anyone,” she whispered, a final attempt to resist the pull she felt.
“Ye can trust me, Amelia,” he said, his voice rougher than before, lower and more protective.
The sound of her name from his lips sent a shiver through her entire body. While the fear was still there, an instinctual apprehension of getting closer to men, it was fading fast. Or, perhaps, she was simply learning to trust that he wasn’t a threat.
His touch returned, this time a palm to her cheek, firmly claiming her gaze. Then, dangerously, he said, “I’ll burn the world before anyone hurts ye again.”
His jaw tightened as soon as the words left his mouth. The restraint that he’d been displaying had fractured, and beneath it wasn’t anger or rejection. Instead, she saw something else entirely.
She searched his face, finding no signs of mockery nor arrogance. It was the truth, and though he’d made an effort to keep it from her, she saw it now. Her heart clenched, and her eyelids fluttered. She leaned into his hand, cradling her cheek.
The small space between the two of them disappeared once more. He pulled her forward, his hands firm but gentle. He was mindful of the places she might still be tender.
Their lips met for a second time. No longer did it feel like something forbidden by her self-preservation. Instead, it felt like the safety he’d been attempting to extend to her.
Is this what I’ve truly been denyin’ meself?
The soft push and pull of their mouths spoke of respect, of sureness.
It was as if this was a language the two of them were fluent in.
She poured her fear, the reservations that were meant to protect her, into the contact.
And in turn, Darragh answered with reassurances.
There was no hesitation, only the promise that he would be the one to keep her safe.
He would no longer let her carry this alone.