Chapter 14
They’d barely taken three steps away from the platform when a group of women descended upon them, chattering excitedly.
“Lady Leona! Lady Leona, ye must join us!”
“The sack race is about to begin!”
“Aye, we need more competitors!”
Murdock felt Leona’s hand tighten around his, felt her step closer to him. But then she looked at the women, Ailsa, young mothers, girls barely out of childhood, and something in her expression softened.
“A sack race?” She glanced up at him, a question in her eyes.
He should say no. Should pull her somewhere private where they could finish what they’d started in his study. Where he could kiss her without an audience, touch her without propriety’s constraints.
But the hopeful looks on the women’s faces, the way Leona’s eyes had lit up with interest despite her nervousness, made him release her hand.
“Go,” he said, surprising himself. “I’ll watch.”
Her smile transformed her face, bright and genuine, and so beautiful it made his chest tighten. “Ye willnae mind?”
“I said go, lass.” He stepped back, giving her space, even though every instinct screamed at him to keep her close. “Show them what ye can do.”
The women cheered, pulling Leona toward the field where burlap sacks had been laid out. She went willingly, laughing as they explained the rules, her initial shyness melting away.
Murdock found himself drawn back toward the platform, but he didn’t sit. Instead, he stood at the edge, arms crossed, watching as Leona stepped into one of the sacks.
“She’s a bonnie one,” Angus commented, appearing at his elbow. “And she’s got spirit. I can see it.”
“Aye.” Murdock didn’t take his eyes off her. “She does.”
“Ye’re a lucky man, me Laird.”
Was he? Luck seemed too simple a word for what he felt. Too inadequate to describe the chaos she’d brought into his carefully ordered life.
The race began with a shout, and the competitors started hopping forward in their sacks, some with more grace than others. Children screamed encouragement, men laughed and placed bets, and the whole village seemed to pulse with joy.
But Murdock only saw her.
Leona hopped with surprising skill, her face alight with laughter, her competitive spirit evident in the determined set of her jaw. She pulled ahead of the pack, her dark hair coming loose from its braid, whipping around her face.
She was magnificent.
Not the frightened woman who’d freed him from the dungeons. Not the desperate woman who’d begged for protection. This was someone else entirely. Someone playful and bright and achingly alive.
Someone he’d never seen before.
“Come on, Lady Leona!” a child shrieked.
“Ye can do it!” another voice called.
She was nearly at the finish line, mere feet ahead of her closest competitor, when disaster struck. Her foot caught in the sack’s folds, her balance tipped, and she went down in a tangle of limbs and burlap.
Murdock was moving before conscious thought, pushing through the crowd. But by the time he reached the field, Leona was laughing.
Not crying, not embarrassed, but laughing.
She sat in the dirt, her dress covered in dust, her hair a wild tangle, and she was laughing so hard that tears streamed down her face. Around her, the other competitors hopped past, crossing the finish line while she applauded from the ground.
“Well done!” she called to the winner, a young woman who looked half-mortified, half-delighted to have beaten the Lady. “That was brilliant!”
The crowd erupted in cheers, and Murdock stood frozen at the edge of the field, transfixed.
When was the last time he’d seen someone lose so gracefully? When was the last time he’d heard laughter like that, pure and unguarded and free?
Leona tried to stand, still giggling, struggling with the sack twisted around her legs. Murdock finally moved, closing the distance between them in long strides.
“Here.” He offered his hand.
She looked up at him, her face flushed with exertion and joy, her green eyes sparkling. “I almost won.”
“Aye. Ye did.” He pulled her up, his hands steadying her waist when she wobbled. “Until ye decided to become intimate with the ground instead.”
“It was the sack’s fault.” She tried for dignity but couldn’t maintain it, dissolving into giggles again. “Did ye nae see? I was winning!”
“I saw.”
And God help him, he couldn’t look away from her. Couldn’t stop drinking in the sight of her like this, disheveled and happy and so breathtakingly beautiful it hurt.
Around them, the crowd began to disperse, moving on to the next event. But Murdock and Leona stood in the middle of the field, hands still touching, eyes locked.
“I didnae ken ye were so…” he trailed off, searching for the right word. “Carefree.”
Something flickered in her expression. Her laughter faded, replaced by something more complicated.
“Well,” she said softly, “I am when nay one is trying to take me life… or me freedom, which is pretty much the same thing.”
The words hit him like a punch to the gut. He’d seen her frightened, desperate, and determined. But he’d never stopped to wonder what she might have been like before. Before Keith. Before Ragnall. Before fear became her constant companion.
This. She’d been like this. Joyful and competitive and utterly unguarded.
“Leona…” he started, not sure what he meant to say.
But she shook her head, her smile returning, though it was softer now, more vulnerable. “It’s fine. I’m fine. I just… I forgot what it felt like, to nae be afraid.” Her eyes met his, and the gratitude in them made his throat thicken. “Thank ye for that. For giving me even a moment of it.”
Something passed between them then. Something raw and honest that had nothing to do with desire and everything to do with recognition.
They were both survivors. Both warriors, though they’d fought different battles. Both carrying scars that no one else could see.
The festival noise faded into the background. The music, the laughter, the voices, all of it distant and unimportant compared to this moment. To the way she looked at him like he understood. Like he saw her.
And God help him, he did see her. Saw past the beauty and the bravery to the woman beneath. The one who’d lost so much but still found the strength to laugh. Who’d been caged but still remembered how to fly.
Murdock wanted to say something. Something that would let her know she mattered, that her joy mattered, that watching her be happy made something in his chest crack open in a way that terrified him.
But before he could find the words, voices interrupted.
“Lady Leona!”
“There ye are!”
“Come meet me husband, he’s been dying to welcome ye properly!”
The villagers swarmed them again, and the moment shattered like glass. Leona turned to them with that bright smile, letting them pull her into their circle, answering questions and accepting compliments with grace.
But she glanced back at Murdock once, and in her eyes was that same understanding. That same recognition.
Later, her expression seemed to say. We’ll finish this later.
Murdock let her go, let the crowd carry her away to meet more people, to laugh and talk and charm his clan without even trying.
But he watched. Always watched. Couldn’t seem to help himself.
The afternoon passed in a blur of introductions and games.
Leona met what felt like every person in the village. Young mothers who asked about wedding plans. Old men who told stories of the old days, before Murdock had assumed the Lairdship and brought peace.
And through it all, she felt Murdock’s presence. Not always beside her. He had his own people to speak with, his own duties as Laird, but he remained nearby. Watching her. Protecting her. Making sure she was safe.
It should have felt oppressive. Should have made her nervous, being monitored so closely. Instead, it felt… comforting. Like having an anchor in the middle of a storm.
As the sun began its descent, painting the sky in shades of orange and gold, the music shifted. The energetic reels and jigs gave way to something slower, more romantic. Fiddles sang a haunting melody that made Leona’s heart ache with its beauty.
Couples moved to the center of the square, pairing off for the dance. Leona watched from the sidelines, her feet aching from the day’s activities, but her heart lighter than it had been in months.
She found herself searching the crowd for Murdock, wondering if he would ask her to dance. If he even knew how. She tried to imagine the powerful, dangerous man moving with grace to the music, and the image made her smile.
“Lady Leona?”
She turned to find a young man standing before her, perhaps twenty years old, with sandy hair and an earnest smile. He was handsome in a boyish way, his face open and friendly.
“Would ye do me the honor of a dance?” He bowed with exaggerated courtesy that made her want to smile.
Leona hesitated, glancing around. She spotted Murdock across the square, deep in conversation with Angus and several other elders. He hadn’t noticed her predicament.
And truly, what harm could one dance do? It was expected. She was supposed to be charming his people, making them accept her.
“Of course,” she said, taking the young man’s proffered hand.
His name was Colin, she learned, and he was sweet. Earnest in a way that reminded her of Rufus, though Colin was older.
She could imagine her brother growing up to be like this, kind and respectful. He talked about his work as an apprentice carpenter, about the chair he was making for his mother, about how honored he was to dance with the Laird’s betrothed.
Leona smiled and responded appropriately, letting him lead her through the steps. It was pleasant, easy, and comfortable in a way that demanded nothing from her.
But then she felt it. The weight of a gaze, heavy and intent, making the hair on the back of her neck stand up. Making awareness skitter down her spine like a physical touch.
She looked over Colin’s shoulder, searching, and found him.
Murdock stood at the edge of the dancing area, no longer in conversation with the elders. He was alone now, arms crossed over his broad chest, his expression unreadable in the gathering twilight.
But his eyes… his eyes were locked on her with an intensity that stole her breath.
He wasn’t smiling. His jaw was clenched tight enough that she could see the muscle jumping in his cheek even from a distance. And as she watched, unable to look away, his hands curled into fists.
He looked dangerous. Possessive. Like a predator watching someone else touch what belonged to him.
The realization sent heat flooding through her body.
“… me Lady?”
Colin’s voice drew her attention. She’d missed whatever he’d said, too caught up in Murdock’s stare.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“I asked if ye’re enjoying the festival.” Colin smiled, oblivious to the tension crackling across the square. “Ye seemed distracted.”
“I am,” she admitted, her eyes drawn back to Murdock like a moth to a flame. “Just… taking it all in.”
The music swirled around them, and Colin led her through another turn. When she looked again, Murdock had moved. He was closer now, just at the edge of the dancing area, his dark eyes tracking every movement.
Every turn that brought her closer to Colin.
Every shift of the young man’s hand on her waist.
Every smile she gave, even if it was just politeness.
Leona stumbled slightly, her attention divided, and Colin caught her with a laugh.
“Sorry, me Lady! I’m nae the best dancer. Should have warned ye.”
“It’s nae yer fault,” she assured him, her pulse racing. Not from the dance, but from the way Murdock was looking at her. “I’m just tired from all the activities.”
“Of course! Would ye like me to escort ye somewhere to rest?”
Before Leona could respond, before she could even process the innocent offer, Murdock moved.
He didn’t walk toward them. Didn’t push through the crowd. He simply stood there, his eyes burning into her, and inclined his head toward the edge of the square.
It was subtle. Anyone watching would have missed it. But Leona felt the command in that small gesture as clearly as if he’d spoken aloud.
Come. Now.
Her breath caught. Her heart hammered against her ribs.
She should wrap up the dance. Should thank Colin properly, make polite excuses, act like a lady rather than a woman desperate to answer that silent summons.
But her body was already responding, already moving before her mind caught up.
“Thank ye for the dance, Colin,” she said, her voice breathless. “But I… I should go. The Laird…” she trailed off, not sure how to finish that sentence. Not sure what excuse would make sense.
But Colin, sweet and oblivious, just smiled and bowed. “Of course, me Lady. It was an honor.”
He released her, and Leona felt suddenly untethered.
The music still played, couples still danced, but she heard none of it. Saw none of it. There was only Murdock, standing in the shadows at the edge of the square, waiting. For her.
She moved toward him, weaving through the dancers, her pulse quickening with every step. People called out to her, greetings, well-wishes, invitations, but she barely registered them.
All her focus was on him. On the way, his eyes never left hers. On the tension radiating from his powerful frame. On the promise in his stare.
When she finally reached him, when she stood close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body, he didn’t speak. Didn’t touch her, though she could see his hands flexing at his sides, could see the restraint it cost him.
“Ye called?” Her voice came out huskier than intended.
“Aye.” The single word was rough, weighted with need. “Walk with me.”
Again, not a request. A command wrapped in barely maintained civility.
Leona should refuse. Should remind him they were in public, that people were watching, that disappearing together would cause talk. But she nodded instead, helpless to resist.
“Where?” she managed.
His eyes darkened, pupils dilating until only a ring of amber remained. “Somewhere private.”
He turned and walked, not checking to see if she followed. Confident she would.
And God help her, she did.
She followed him away from the light and music, away from the safety of the crowd, into the gathering darkness, where the trees grew thick and the shadows waited.
Her heart hammered so hard she could hear it in her ears. Her skin felt too tight, too warm despite the evening chill. Every nerve ending alive and singing with anticipation.
She knew what this meant. Knew what would happen once they were alone.
And she wanted it. Wanted him. With an intensity that terrified and thrilled her in equal measure.
Behind her, the festival carried on. Music and laughter drifted in the air, distant and dreamlike. She heard Sheena’s voice say something, heard answering chuckles, but the words didn’t register.
Nothing registered except the man ahead of her, leading her deeper into the darkness.
Into whatever came next.