Chapter 18 #2
Then she was telling him a story about a selkie princess who fell in love with a shepherd, her voice animated, her hands gesturing even as she tried to stay afloat. She acted out different characters, making her voice deep for the shepherd and high and melodic for the selkie.
It was absurd. Charming and completely unexpected.
Murdock floated on his back, letting the water support him as he listened. The tension that had been coiled in his shoulders since the gathering last night slowly eased. Here, in the water, with Leona’s voice washing over him, the world beyond the loch seemed distant and unimportant.
She finished the story with a dramatic flourish, then laughed at her own theatrics. “Told ye it was ridiculous.”
“It’s perfect.” He rolled upright again, facing her. “Yer faither sounds like he was a good man.”
“The best.” Her smile turned wistful. “He loved me maither more than anything in the world. Used to say she was the only person whose advice he trusted above his own instincts.”
They’d drifted closer as they talked. Near enough now that if Murdock reached out, he could touch her. Could trail his fingers along the column of her throat, could cup her face and draw her to him.
He didn’t. Not yet.
“Me faither was the opposite,” he said instead. “Never listened to anyone. Certainly nae to me maither. His word was law, and anyone who challenged it paid the price.”
He shouldn’t have said even that much. The words had slipped out, revealing more than he had intended.
He waited for Leona to press, to ask questions he wasn’t ready to answer. But she just nodded, her expression thoughtful.
“It must have been hard, growin' up in his shadow.”
“It was what it was.” He changed the subject before she could dig deeper
“Ye ken, sometimes the bravest thing ye can do is be gentle when the world expects ye to be hard.”
The words hit closer than she had probably intended.
Murdock looked away, uncomfortable with how clearly she seemed to see him.
“I’m nae gentle,” he said roughly.
“Nay?” Leona’s voice was soft. “Then what do ye call the way ye are with Skye? The patience ye show her? The care?”
“That’s different. She’s me daughter.”
“And what do ye call the way ye’ve treated me? Offerin' protection when ye had every reason to turn me away? Tryin' to keep me safe, even though it brings ye nothin' but trouble?”
Leona’s breathing had quickened. They’d drifted even closer now, close enough that he could feel the current she created as she moved her arms to stay afloat. Close enough to see the pulse fluttering in her throat, the way her lips had parted slightly.
“Murdock,” she whispered.
“Aye?”
“This is… we’re…”
She didn’t finish. Didn’t need to.
The space between them had narrowed to almost nothing, the water warm where their bodies displaced it, their legs occasionally brushing beneath the surface.
His hand found her waist through the wet linen of her shift. She didn’t pull away. Instead, her hand came up to rest against his chest, fingers splaying over his heart.
“Ye could still marry me,” he said, his voice low and rough. “For real, nae just for show.”
The spell broke.
Leona pulled back, putting distance between them with quick, sharp strokes. When she was several feet away, she stopped, her expression stricken.
“I cannae,” she said.
“Why nae?” Frustration bled into his voice. “Ye’d be protected. Safe. Ragnall would have nay claim on ye.”
“Is that all this is?” Her eyes flashed. “Protection? Safety? Ye want me to bind meself to ye for those reasons?”
“They’re good reasons, lass.”
“They’re terrible reasons!” She swam toward the shore, and Murdock followed, the moment of connection shattered like glass. “I willnae marry for safety, Murdock. I willnae be just another responsibility ye take on because it’s the right thing to do.”
They waded out of the water together, the morning air cold against their wet skin. Leona wrapped her arms around herself, shivering, but her chin was lifted in defiance.
“I want what me parents had.”
“Love. Ye’re still wishing for that?”
“Aye, love.” The word hung between them, simple and devastating. “Me maither was the only one who had me faither’s attention in any room, nay matter who else was there. When she spoke, the world stopped for him. That’s what I want. That’s what I deserve.”
Murdock felt something dark and bitter rise in his chest. “Attention isnae always a good thing, lass.”
He thought of his father. Of the way the old man’s attention felt like the weight of a mountain, crushing and inescapable.
Of how he’d watched Ailis with that cold, calculating gaze before trying to drown her.
Of how his mother had withered under the constant scrutiny, becoming smaller and quieter with each passing year, until the bastard had killed her, though Murdock hadn’t discovered the truth until he tried to kill Ailis again two years ago.
Attention could be a cage, a burden, a slow death. Or a real death.
But he didn’t say any of that. Couldn’t find the words to explain how the idea of giving someone that kind of power over him, of letting them become the center of his world, terrified him more than any blade or battle.
Instead, he turned away, reaching for his tunic where he’d left it on the dock.
“Wait,” Leona called. “Where are ye goin'?”
“To get dressed. To let ye do the same.” He pulled the wet linen over his head, not bothering to wring it out first. “We’ll face the council together as we agreed. We’ll act like a betrothed couple. But I’ll nae argue about this again, lass.”
He walked away, but slowly. Keeping her in his sight even as he put distance between them. Making sure she made it safely back to her clothes among the trees. Making sure she was safe, protected, looked after.
Because that’s what he knew how to do.
Even if it wasn’t what she wanted.
Even if it would never be enough.