Chapter 16
The festival was still in full swing, though some of the older folks had begun to drift toward their homes. Children ran through the square, sticky with sweets and drunk on the freedom of celebration. Music still played, though the tempo had slowed, couples swaying together in the firelight.
Leona spotted Sheena near the food tables and made her way over, needing something to do with her hands, some excuse for her absence.
“There ye are, dear!” Sheena winked at her. “We were startin' to wonder if ye’d gotten lost.”
“I just needed some air,” Leona said, hoping her voice sounded steadier than she felt. “It’s been such a wonderful day, but a bit overwhelmin'.”
“Of course, of course.” Sheena’s eyes were knowing, but she didn’t press. “The Laird disappeared for a bit, too. Strange, that.”
Heat crept up Leona’s neck. “Is that so?”
“Aye. Though he’s back now, speaking with the councilmen near the platform.” Sheena handed her a cup of cider. “Here, drink this. Ye look flushed.”
Leona accepted gratefully, the cool liquid soothing her parched throat. She was just setting down the empty cup when a commotion near the edge of the square caught her attention.
A guard on horseback had appeared, his mount lathered with sweat, his expression urgent. People parted to let him through, conversations dying down as he dismounted and began looking around frantically.
“Me Laird!” His voice carried across the square. “Me Laird, there ye are! I searched for ye everywhere.”
Murdock had already spotted him, was already moving through the crowd with that predatory grace.
Leona felt her stomach drop. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.
She pushed through the gathering crowd, needing to be closer, needing to hear whatever news had driven a guard to ride so hard in the dark.
By the time she reached them, Murdock was gripping the guard’s shoulder. “What happened? What’s wrong?”
The guard’s eyes darted to Leona, then back to Murdock. He hesitated, clearly uncertain whether to speak in front of her.
“Say it,” Murdock commanded. “Whatever it is, say it now.”
The guard swallowed hard. “A messenger came to the castle. From Clan Gilmore. He carried a letter addressed to the council.” He pulled a folded parchment from his tunic, the wax seal already broken. “Ragnall Gilmore has sent word that yer betrothal is fake.”
The world tilted beneath Leona’s feet.
“What?” Murdock’s voice was deadly quiet.
“He claims Lady Leona is promised to him, that she’s his betrothed. He says that she’s a liar and a traitor who’s deceived ye.” The guard’s hands shook as he held out the letter. “He demands that she return within a week, or he’ll consider it an act of war.”
Silence fell over the square. Those close enough to have heard gasped, whispers spreading through the crowd like wildfire.
Leona felt dozens of eyes turn toward her, felt the weight of their judgment, their suspicion. Her breath came in short, sharp gasps.
This was it. The end of the fragile peace she’d found here. The end of feeling safe, feeling wanted, feeling like she might finally have a place to belong.
“That’s why his men were here,” she whispered, the pieces falling into place with sickening clarity. “They were deliverin' the message. Comin' to see if it was true.”
And Murdock had killed them. Had spilled blood to protect her, and now his reward was the threat of war.
Murdock took the letter, his jaw clenched so tight she could see the muscle jumping beneath his skin. He scanned its contents, and with each line, his expression grew darker.
“This is…” He looked up at her, and the carefully blank mask he wore told her everything she needed to know.
He was calculating. Weighing. Deciding whether she was worth a war.
And why would she be? They barely knew each other. This betrothal was fake, just a convenience. He had his clan to think of, his daughter, his people. She was nothing compared to them.
“Thank ye for bringin' this to me attention,” Murdock said to the guard, his voice giving nothing away. “Return to the castle. Tell the council I’ll address this matter in the mornin'.”
The guard bowed and departed, leaving them standing in the center of the square, with the entire village watching.
Leona forced herself to straighten her spine, to lift her chin despite the humiliation burning through her. She wouldn’t cower. Wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing her break.
“Thank ye,” she said quietly, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands. “For yer help, me Laird. For the protection ye’ve given me these past days. But ye daenae have to do anything more.”
Murdock’s eyes snapped to hers.
“I’ll go,” she continued, each word like glass in her throat. “I’ll return to Ragnall. I willnae bring a war to people who’ve been kind to me. Who’ve welcomed me into their homes and their hearts. They daenae deserve to suffer because of me troubles.”
“Leona,” Murdock started, but she shook her head.
“Please. I want to go back to the castle.” The words came out more forceful than she had intended. She couldn’t do this here, couldn’t have this conversation with everyone watching. “Now.”
Something flickered in his expression, too quick to read. Hurt, perhaps. Or relief that she was making this easy for him.
He nodded once, sharp and final. “As ye wish.”
The ride back to Ainsley Castle was the longest of Leona’s life.
They’d retrieved Thunder from where he’d been stabled for the evening, and once again she found herself seated in front of Murdock, his arms wrapped around her as he held the reins.
But while the ride over had been charged with awareness and barely restrained desire, this one was heavy with silence and dread.
She could feel the tension radiating from his body, could feel the way his muscles had gone rigid. But he didn’t speak. Didn’t offer comfort or reassurance or any of the pretty words she might have hoped for.
And why should he? The letter had laid bare the truth of their situation. She was trouble. A liability. Someone who brought war and chaos wherever she went.
The moon had risen higher, casting silvery light across the landscape. It should have been beautiful. Should have made her heart ache with the wild majesty of it all. Instead, she felt nothing but cold.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, the words torn from somewhere deep in her chest. “I never meant for any of this to happen. Never meant to bring ye trouble.”
Murdock’s arms tightened fractionally around her. “Daenae apologize for existin', lass.”
The words were gruff, almost angry, but they made tears prick her eyes.
“What will ye tell yer council?” she asked. “When they demand to ken why ye lied about our betrothal?”
“I’ll tell them the truth.”
Leona twisted in the saddle to look at him, confusion cutting through her misery. “What truth?”
His face was carved from stone in the moonlight, his expression unreadable. “That ye came to me for protection. That I gave it. That what happened after is between us and nay one else’s concern.”
“They’ll want to ken why ye’d risk war for someone ye barely ken.”
“Aye, they will.” His eyes met hers, and the intensity in them stole her breath. “And I’ll tell them it’s because ye’re under me protection. Because I gave ye me word. And because a laird who breaks his word isnae worthy of leading his clan.”
It wasn’t a declaration of love. Wasn’t even a promise that he’d fight for her. But it was something. A small reassurance that he wasn’t simply washing his hands of her the moment things became difficult.
“And if they insist I go?” Leona pressed. “If they say I’m nae worth a war?”
Murdock’s jaw clenched. “Then we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”
The non-answer made her chest ache.
But what had she expected? That he’d declare his undying devotion? That he’d choose her over his duty, his clan, everything he’d built?
They barely knew each other. What had happened in the forest, as intense and world-shattering as it had been, didn’t change the fundamental truth of their situation.
This was supposed to be temporary. Convenient. A solution to mutual problems.
And now it had become a nightmare.
The castle walls loomed ahead, torches blazing on the battlements. Guards called out greetings as they passed through the gates, but Murdock didn’t acknowledge them. He rode straight to the stables, dismounting before helping Leona down.
His hands lingered on her waist, and for a moment, she thought he might say something. Might offer some comfort or clarity about what would happen next.
But he just released her and stepped back.
“Get some rest,” he said quietly. “We’ll face the council in the morning.”
“We?” The word escaped before she could stop it.
“Aye.” His eyes met hers, something fierce burning in their depths. “If they have something bad to say about the lass who saved me life, they should say it to yer face. And mine. Ye’ll be there as me witness, me betrothed. They need to see that we stand together.”
The promise made her throat thicken. Made hope bloom in her chest despite every logical reason to crush it.
“Thank ye,” she whispered.
He nodded once, then turned and strode toward the keep, his shoulders set with determination.
Leona watched him go, her hand pressed to her chest where her heart hammered against her ribs.
Everything was falling apart. The fragile peace she’d found here, the tentative happiness, the belief that maybe, just maybe, she could have something good.
All of it was crumbling because Ragnall couldn’t let her go. Because he needed her dowry, her claim to the Gilmore lands, to secure his own position.
She made her way to her chambers on unsteady legs, each step feeling like walking through mud. The halls were quiet at this late hour, what with most of the castle asleep. Only the night guards remained, their presence a reminder that danger lurked beyond these walls.
When she finally reached her door, she paused with her hand on the latch.
Murdock, whatever his personal feelings, would have to put his clan first. That was what good leaders did. They made hard choices, sacrificed personal desires for the greater good.
She couldn’t blame him for that. Wouldn’t blame him.
But God, it was going to hurt.
Leona pushed open the door and stepped into her new chambers. The fire had been banked for the night, leaving the room in shadows. She moved to the window, looking out at the dark landscape beyond.
Somewhere out there, Ragnall was waiting. Planning. Preparing for war if she didn’t return.
And here, in this castle that had briefly felt like home, people were deciding whether she was worth fighting for.
She pressed her forehead against the cool glass, exhaustion and despair washing over her in equal measure.
She’d thought, for just a few brief hours, that she might have found something real. Something worth keeping.
But fairytales were for children, and she’d learned long ago that happy endings were nothing but lies told to make the darkness more bearable.