Chapter 32
Kristen sat on a low, flat rock above the lake, with her hands folded tightly in her lap. The sunlight lay on the water like a sheet of glass, clear and harmless.
Finn, Anna, and Skye, her niece, ran in loose circles at the shore, and Maggie bounded after them with a grin that never seemed to fade.
Finn shouted orders that meant nothing to anyone but himself, a stick lifted like a sword. Anna bounded after him, squealing each time Maggie splashed close to her shoes. Skye, older and steadier, kept a watchful eye and called a warning when the little ones drifted too close to the edge.
It should have been perfect. Hell, it looked perfect.
Kristen made her mouth shape a smile. It felt thin and brittle. The kind of smile that held while wind tugged at it, the kind that would vanish if she breathed too deeply.
She tried to convince herself that she was safe here.
No bandits lurked in the bushes, and no voices rose in cruelty behind closed doors.
Murdock’s people were loud and kind, quick to lend bread, quicker to laugh.
They had opened their arms to her and the children as if they, too, had always belonged to this land.
It should have settled her. And yet every time Finn tripped and pushed back to his feet, she saw Neil kneeling in the kitchen and asking how the game ended. Every time Anna clapped and demanded kisses, she heard Neil say, I daenae like it when other men are being nice to me wife.
Her chest ached in a way the clean air could not mend as she drew the shawl tighter around her shoulders and told herself she was only watching the children. She lied to herself with care, and counted the ways the moment felt half made. The way the view felt incomplete without him.
Grass rustled beside her, and her brother sat, a slow, heavy fold of a man easing himself down, legs stretched out and ankles crossed. He watched Skye for a while, and the soft look in his eyes made her throat tighten.
“Braither,” Kristen greeted, her voice soft. “Come to tell me the food is ready?”
“Ye wish,” Murdock scoffed, his voice clear in the bright morning light.
Kristen exhaled and threw her head back. She knew what her brother wanted to say even before the words formed in his mouth.
“How long will ye sit here, making that face?” he asked.
She blinked, trying for lightness. “What face?”
“The one that says ye are trying very hard to look content while ye are screaming inside,” he said in a calm voice.
A small sound escaped her, close to a laugh, not quite reaching it. “Is that what it says?”
“I daenae ken much about love,” Murdock relented. “I ken roofs and oats and keeping the cow from breaking the fence and making Skye finish her porridge. But even I can see that ye miss him.”
Her fingers twisted in her lap. “I miss the silence, that is all,” she muttered. “I miss feeling safe.”
He snorted. “Lass, there is quiet all around ye, and ye look as if it is strangling ye.”
Kristen looked away toward the water. Finn tried to teach Anna how to throw a stone, failed, and made her clap with delight instead. Skye clapped too, proud of nothing and everything.
“Ye miss yer husband,” Murdock said, cutting clean through the foolish lines she had rehearsed in the night. “Say it. Ye have had half the Highlands decide for ye. Ye might as well give yerself the truth.”
She stared at her hands. Her pulse fluttered at the base of her thumb. “He let me walk away.” She hated how small it sounded.
“Aye.” Murdock nodded. “And ye ran very fast.” He nudged her shoulder with his. “Daenae pretend that ye left because ye felt nothing.”
Her lips parted. The denial rushed forth, tangled and thin, so she let it die. She pulled the shawl closer and watched Finn draw a line in the sand with his stick while Anna stamped over it, proud of the ruin.
“Am I interrupting?” The voice came from behind, deep and rough at the edges, worn by wind and miles, achingly familiar.
Kristen went still, while Murdock rose at once, quick despite his bulk, and shifted a little in front of her.
She twisted on the rock, and her heart struck her ribs like a fist.
Neil stood a few paces away, his shirt wrinkled, his cloak dusty, his hair tossed by the wind. His eyes moved first to the children, as if he had been starved of the sight, then flicked to her.
For a moment, none of them moved. It seemed almost like the hills held their breath with them.
Kristen watched as Anna looked up and spotted him. Her whole face lit up.
“Da!” she squealed, as if the word had been waiting in her mouth all morning.
She ran in that wobbling way that still made Kristen’s lungs seize, her arms stretched wide, her little boots thumping. Finn stared for a beat, his eyes round, then charged after her with a whoop.
Kristen’s breath hitched.
Maggie barked once as if making an announcement to the lake and the sky, then bolted after the children.
Neil dropped to one knee and opened his arms. They crashed into him in a tangle of small limbs and fur.
Kristen did not move, watching it all unfold in utter disbelief.
Neil’s arms filled at once as Anna launched herself at him, her legs locking around his waist when he scooped her up.
Finn slammed into his side, laughing, hands clutching his cloak.
Maggie rose on her hind legs and thumped his thigh with both paws, her tail whipping as if she meant to topple him. And she would if he let her.
For the first time in days, he laughed. It came out hoarse and raw, but it was real.
“Easy,” he rumbled, shifting his stance to hold them all. “Ye will knock me flat, ye wee heathens.”
Anna cupped his face in her small hands, serious as a priest. “Da,” she breathed, softer now, as if the word had been a secret.
Finn hung back for half a heartbeat. His eyes flicked from Neil’s mouth to his hands and back again. “Ye came to find us,” he blurted. “Ye came to find us?”
Neil’s chest tightened until it hurt. He shifted Anna to one arm and reached his free hand to ruffle Finn’s hair. Something about them calling him their father tugged at something he didn’t believe was still there.
Maybe he did want to be a father. The idea of having children did not seem strange at all. In fact, it was the complete opposite.
“Listen to me,” he said, steady and firm. “Nay matter where ye both go, I will always find ye and yer ma. Do ye hear me?”
Finn’s lower lip trembled. “Ye mean it?”
“Aye,” Neil said. “I mean it. We will never be apart again if I can help it.”
Maggie barked once, satisfied. Skye hovered a few steps back, watching with bright eyes. Neil gave her a quick nod that he hoped conveyed that she belonged in this odd, stitched-together family as much as any of them.
Despite the noise, he could feel Kristen’s gaze on him. It landed like a touch between his shoulders.
“Daenae make promises ye cannae keep, Neil.”
She was standing a little way off, with her shawl pulled tight and her arms folded across her chest. Her chin was high, and her eyes were too bright.
Tears, perhaps?
He didn’t wait for the answer.
“I intend to keep this one,” he said. “For as long as ye will let me.”
She gave a small scoff. “Ye say that now because ye rode all this way and everything feels grand and brave. What happens when ye remember that ye daenae want any distractions? When duty calls again?”
He took a step toward her. The children shifted with him, and he anchored them with a hand.
“Duty never stopped calling, Kristen,” he said. “I only used it as an excuse, and I hurt ye with it. I am done doing that.”
Murdock stood off to the side, his arms folded, watching like a guard who would not step in unless asked.
Neil was grateful for his presence. Still, he kept his eyes on Kristen.
“I didnae come all this way to play at apologies for a day and ride back alone,” he added. “I ken what I am saying.”
He set Anna gently on her feet, then touched Finn’s shoulder and nodded toward the dog and Skye. “Take Skye and Maggie,” he said quietly. “Let her chase ye. I need a word with yer ma.”
Finn hesitated, then nodded like a little man and trotted off. Anna followed, clapping. Maggie bounded after them, delighted at having a mission.
Murdock caught up with the children and shot Neil a look that said he had heard enough for now, before herding them to the safer side of the shore.
Silence fell, punctuated by the soft slap of water against stones and the rustle of grass.
Neil looked at Kristen. He saw the shadows under her eyes and the stubborn tilt of her chin that she used like a shield. But he did not reach for her. Not yet.
“I have been hiding behind ghosts,” he said, his voice low. “Me faither’s. Alex’s. Even Lachlan’s. I told meself that if I stayed cold, I would keep everyone safe. All I did was make ye suffer.”
Her throat worked. “Us and yerself too.”
“Aye, but ye especially,” he sighed. “Now I ken what matters. I want ye, wife. Nae just in me bed, and nae just standing beside me so the clan feels easy. I want ye. Yer temper. Yer soft heart. Yer dragons and yer rules, and the way ye speak to me people till they smile.”
He nodded toward the children at the waterline.
“I want them. Our strange little family. I want to spend the rest of me life earning the way they look at me when they call me Da.” He drew a breath and held it for a beat.
“I want this. Us. Forever. If ye will have me. Nae as a duty, but as a choice.”
Kristen’s fingers tightened on the edge of her shawl as the wind lifted a strand of her damp hair and laid it against her cheek. For a moment, she looked as if the weight of separation had pressed her flat. Fear sat there, and hurt, and something warmer that she tried to hide.
She took one step closer.
It was not forgiveness. Not yet. But it was not running either.
And to him, that was progress.