Chapter 20
The meadow beyond the east ridge was exactly as Murdock remembered.
Wildflowers carpeted the ground in shades of purple, yellow, and white, their petals swaying in the gentle breeze.
Trees lined the edges, providing shade without crowding the open space.
A small stream burbled nearby, its sound peaceful and constant.
The air smelled of grass and sunshine and growing things.
It was, as Skye had surely intended, the most romantic spot on Ainsley lands.
Which made what Murdock was about to do either brilliant or catastrophically stupid. He hadn’t decided which yet.
The servants had outdone themselves with the preparations.
Blankets were spread across the grass, soft and thick enough to cushion against the ground beneath.
Food covered nearly every inch: fresh bread still warm from the oven, honey cakes that made Skye’s eyes go wide with delight, cold chicken, cheese, fruit, and what looked like half the contents of the castle’s larder.
“This is too much,” Leona had murmured when they’d first arrived, her eyes taking in the abundance.
“It’s exactly enough,” Skye had declared, already claiming a honeycake. “Aunt Kristen says ye cannae have a proper picnic without too much food.”
Now, an hour later, Murdock found himself watching his daughter chase Nyx through the wildflowers while Rufus kept a careful eye on both of them. Leona sat beside him on the blanket, her skirts spread around her, her hair catching the afternoon light.
She was laughing at something Skye had said, her whole face transformed by genuine joy. It made her look younger, less burdened by the weight she’d been carrying since that cursed letter arrived.
“Da!” Skye called out, racing back toward them with Nyx trotting along behind her. “Tell us a story! One of the good ones!”
Murdock set aside his cup of ale. “What kind of story?”
“The one about the selkie and the fisherman!” Skye dropped onto the blanket beside him, bouncing with excitement. “That’s me favorite.”
“Ye’ve heard that one a dozen times, lass.”
“Then I’ll hear it a thirteenth.” She settled herself more comfortably, Nyx jumping into her lap with surprising grace. “Please, Da?”
How could he refuse when she looked at him like that?
Murdock began the familiar tale, letting his voice fall into the rhythm he’d learned from his mother. The story of a fisherman who found a selkie on the shore, who hid her sealskin so she couldn’t return to the sea. The man kept her as his wife for seven years.
“But she was sad,” Skye interjected when he paused. “Because she missed the ocean.”
“Aye.” Murdock nodded. “She was sad because she’d been taken from where she belonged.”
“So the fisherman’s daughter found the sealskin,” Skye continued, taking over the story with the confidence of someone who knew it by heart. “And she gave it back to her maither because she loved her and wanted her to be happy. Even if it meant her maither would leave.”
“And did she?” Leona asked softly. “The selkie maither. Did she leave?”
Skye paused, looking troubled. “Most people say aye. She goes back to the sea and never returns.”
“That’s cruel,” Leona said.
“It’s honest,” Murdock countered. “Sometimes people leave, even when they’re loved. Even when they want to stay. Because the cage they’re in, nay matter how gilded, is still a cage.”
The words hung heavy between them.
Murdock saw understanding flash in Leona’s eyes, saw her recognize the parallel he was drawing. To her situation. To the choice she was facing.
“But in our story,” Skye said firmly, “the selkie maither comes back every summer. She stays on land with her family for months, then returns to the sea for the rest of the year. So everyone gets to be happy, and nay one has to be caged.”
“A compromise,” Leona said, her gaze still on Murdock. “Both people getting what they need instead of one sacrificin' everythin'.”
“Aye, that’s what makes it a good endin'.” Skye beamed at her. “Will ye tell us another story?”
Leona hesitated, then nodded. “All right. But ye have to help. When I pause, ye fill in what happens next.”
“Like a game!”
“Exactly, like a game.”
Murdock listened as Leona began a tale about a brave warrior woman who disguised herself as a man to join the King’s army.
Her voice was animated, her hands gesturing as she described battles and narrow escapes.
When she paused at a crucial moment, Skye jumped in with her own ideas, spinning the story in unexpected directions.
They went back and forth like that, building the narrative together, each addition more outlandish than the last. Rufus eventually joined in from where he’d been sitting nearby, adding his own flourishes about the warrior woman’s faithful hound companion, who could speak but only told terrible jokes.
Leona’s laughter rang out across the meadow, genuine and unburdened. She was caught up in the moment, in the joy of storytelling and play, not thinking about councils or threats or impossible choices. Just existing here, now, with people who cared about her.
With family.
The realization struck Murdock. That was what they’d become to her. Skye, with her enthusiasm and wisdom beyond her years. Rufus, with his quiet loyalty and fierce protectiveness of his sister. Nyx, despite her occasional use of claws. Even him, despite everything complicated between them.
They were the family she’d lost when her parents died. The belonging she’d been searching for.
And in six days, if they couldn’t find a solution, she’d lose them, too.
The thought made his chest tighten with something that felt dangerously close to panic.
“Look!” Skye suddenly pointed toward the stream. “Nyx is goin' to the water!”
Sure enough, the cat had abandoned Skye’s lap and was making her way toward the stream with deliberate purpose.
“She’ll be fine,” Rufus said, but he was already standing. “But I should probably make sure she doesnae decide to go swimmin'.”
“I’ll come with ye!” Skye jumped up, ready to follow.
“And I’ll make sure ye both daenae end up in the water,” Rufus added with a grin.
They hurried off together, leaving Murdock and Leona alone on the blanket, surrounded by the remnants of their meal.
The atmosphere shifted immediately.
Without Skye’s bright chatter and Rufus’s steady presence, the awareness that had been simmering beneath the surface all afternoon rose between them.
Murdock was suddenly acutely aware of how close Leona was sitting, of the way the sunlight played across her skin, of the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. Of how much he wanted her.
“We need to talk,” he said, his voice rougher than intended.
Leona turned to look at him, wariness replacing the easy joy that had lit her face moments before. “About what?”
“About me wantin' to rip yer clothes off any time ye’re near me.”
The blunt words made her eyes widen, color flooding her cheeks. But she didn’t look away. Didn’t retreat.
“Murdock…”
“Daenae.” He shifted closer, close enough to see the pulse fluttering in her throat. “Daenae tell me ye havenae noticed. Daenae pretend this tension between us isnae real.”
“I never said it wasnae real.” Her voice had turned breathy. “But acknowledgin' it and actin' on it are two different things.”
“Are they?” He reached out, tracing the line of her jaw with one finger.
Felt her shiver under his touch. “Because right now, lass, the only thing stopping me from laying ye down on this blanket and showing ye exactly how real it is, is the knowledge that me daughter and yer brother are less than fifty yards away.”
Leona’s breathing had quickened. “This isnae about desire, Murdock. It never was.”
“Isnae it?” He let his hand fall away, but kept his eyes on hers. “Leona, we cannae pretend we’re just friends playin' at courtship. The attraction between us is real. The connection is real. I offer marriage, a great escape to yer problems. Why can ye nae see sense?”
The frustration in his voice was palpable, edged with the sexual tension that had been building between them for days.
“Why can ye nae?” She leaned forward, her eyes flashing. “Would ye condemn me to a life without love simply because ye desire me? Because it’s convenient? Because it solves the immediate problem?”
“I’m trying to keep ye alive, woman!”
“I ken that!” Her voice rose to match his. “But what kind of life am I living if it’s just survival? If it’s just existing from one day to the next with nay joy, nay passion, nay… nay love.”
“Better a life without love than nay life at all.” The words came out harsh, final.
“But life without love is nay life at all.” Leona’s voice broke slightly. “It’s just breathin'. Just going through the motions. Me parents taught me that.”
“So what if I cannae give ye that?” Murdock heard himself ask, the admission torn from somewhere deep and painful.
“What if the best I can offer is protection and desire and… and this?” He gestured between them, at the tension that crackled like lightning.
“What if that has to be enough because anything more, anything deeper, is something I’m nae capable of? ”
“Ye are capable of it.” Leona’s voice was fierce now. “I’ve seen ye with Skye. I’ve watched ye with yer people. Ye love, Murdock. Ye just daenae trust it.”
“Trust has nothin' to do with it.”
“It has everythin' to do with it!” She shifted closer, close enough that he could feel the heat of her body. “Ye’re afraid. Nae of Ragnall, nae of war, but of this. Of lettin' someone in. Of givin' them the power to hurt ye.”
“Ye think I daenae ken that?” His voice dropped low, dangerous. “Ye think I havenae spent years buildin' walls precisely to prevent that? To keep meself safe, to keep Skye safe, to never, ever become the kind of man me faither was?”
“Yer faither? Ye said he wasnae very good.” Leona’s brow furrowed. “But what does he have to do with—”
“Everythin'.” The word came out like a curse. “He has everythin' to do with it.”
Murdock stood abruptly, needing to move, to put distance between them before he said something he couldn’t take back. But Leona stood too, following him, refusing to let him retreat.
“Then tell me,” she demanded. “Tell me what ye mean. Help me understand why ye’re so convinced that what I’m askin' for is impossible.”
But before he could find the words, the sound of hoofbeats reached them. Fast and urgent.
They both turned to see a rider cresting the ridge, heading straight for them at a gallop that spoke of an emergency.
As the figure drew closer, Murdock recognized Hamish.
The man’s face was grim, his posture tense in a way that made Murdock’s battle instincts flare.
“Me Laird!” Hamish called out as he pulled his horse up short and dismounted in one fluid motion. “Forgive the interruption, but ye need to see this. It just arrived.” His eyes flicked to Leona, then back to Murdock. “From him.”
He held out a sealed letter, the wax stamped with a crest Murdock recognized all too well. The Gilmore seal.
Ragnall.
All the heat from their argument evaporated, replaced by cold dread. Leona’s face had gone pale.
“Another letter?” Her voice was barely above a whisper.
Murdock took the letter from Hamish, his jaw tightening as he felt the weight of it. Thicker than the last one. More words. More threats, most likely.
“When did this arrive?” he asked.
“Just now, me Laird. A runner brought it to the gate.” Hamish’s expression was troubled. “Said he was instructed to nae wait for reply. Just deliver it and leave.”
Murdock nodded curtly. “I see. Thank ye, Hamish.”
“Of course, me Laird.” Hamish then hesitated. “Me Laird… whatever it says, ken that we’re with ye. All of us. Whatever comes.”
Something in Murdock’s chest loosened slightly at the loyalty in the man’s voice. “I ken it, Hamish. Thank ye.”
“What does it say?” Leona’s voice was steadier now, though he could see her hands trembling where she’d clasped them together. “Please. I need to ken.”
Murdock broke the seal and unfolded the parchment, his eyes scanning the lines. With each word, his expression grew darker, a cold fury building in his chest that had nothing to do with the passion from moments ago.
When he finished reading, he looked up at Leona and saw his own dread reflected in her eyes.
“It’s nae good,” he said quietly.
“Tell me.” She stepped closer, her chin lifted in that stubborn way he’d come to recognize. “I can bear it. Whatever it says, I can bear it.”
Could she, though? Could she bear knowing that Ragnall’s patience had worn even thinner? That the timeline had changed, the threats had escalated?
Could she bear knowing that whatever fragile thing they’d built between them, whatever tentative step toward something real they’d just taken, might not matter at all if Ragnall had his way?
Murdock looked down at the letter again, at Ragnall’s precise script laying out his ultimatum in black and white.
Then he looked at Leona—brave, stubborn, beautiful Leona, who deserved so much more than this mess—and knew he couldn’t protect her from the truth any more than he could protect her from his broken heart.
“He’s comin' sooner,” he said. “Nae in six days, but four.”