Chapter 28
“What the hell are ye talkin' about?”
The words burst out of Murdock, raw and desperate.
But Leona was already moving away, already putting distance between them, her arms wrapped tight around herself like she was holding something in.
Or keeping something out.
“Leona, wait!”
“A man who doesnae believe in love doesnae have a strong reason to marry, me Laird.” Her voice was steady, but he could hear the tremor beneath it.
See the way her shoulders tensed. “Ye’d sacrifice yerself to protect me, but ye daenae need to.
Thank ye for everythin'. For saving me, for protecting Rufus, for…” She stopped, her throat working.
Then, before he could respond, before he could find the words to tell her she was wrong about everything, she crossed back to him and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.
The touch burned like a brand.
“Thank ye,” she whispered against his skin. “For bein' exactly who ye are.”
Then she was gone, disappearing through the keep’s entrance, leaving him standing in the middle of the courtyard surrounded by blood and bodies and the bitter taste of words unsaid.
Murdock stood frozen, his mind struggling to process what had just happened. She thought he didn’t love her. Thought that this had all been obligation, duty. Thought he was sacrificing himself rather than choosing her.
How could she think that? How could she not see—
But of course, she couldn’t see. Because he’d never told her. Had spent weeks pushing her away, telling her that he couldn’t give her what she needed, convincing her that his feelings were dangerous rather than what they truly were—real.
“Ye’re an idiot,” he muttered to himself.
“Aye, ye are.”
He turned to find Hamish approaching, his expression caught between sympathy and exasperation. “Ye heard?”
“Everyone heard. Ye werenae exactly quiet.” Hamish stopped a few feet away, surveying the carnage. “The men are almost finished with the cleanup. And yer daughter is asking for ye.”
“Tell her I’ll be there shortly.”
“Me Laird—”
“I said I’ll be there shortly.” The words came out harsher than intended, and Murdock immediately regretted it. “I’m sorry. I just… I need a moment.”
Hamish studied him for a long moment, then nodded. “Take all the time ye need. But Murdock? Daenae take too long. That lass willnae wait forever.”
Murdock knew his friend wasn’t talking about Skye. Hamish walked away, leaving him alone in the courtyard as his men worked around him. They moved efficiently, respectfully, giving their Laird space while they cleared the evidence of battle.
Murdock looked down at his hands. Still covered in blood. Still shaking slightly from the thrill that hadn’t fully faded. These were a killer’s hands. A monster’s hands. The same hands that had held Leona moments ago, that had wanted to pull her close and never let go.
How could he expect her to want him, when this was what he was? When violence came so easily to him? When he’d just killed a man in cold blood and felt nothing but grim satisfaction?
“Da?” Skye’s small voice cut through his spiraling thoughts.
He looked up to find his daughter standing a few feet away, Nyx cradled in her arms. She was clean now; someone had already taken her inside and washed the day’s horrors from her skin and clothes. But her eyes were too old, too knowing for a child her age.
“Are ye hurt?” She asked it so simply, with such genuine concern, that his chest tightened.
“Nay, wee one. Just scratches.” He knelt down to her level. “Are ye? Did that man hurt ye?”
“Nay. Nyx saved me.” Skye stroked the cat’s head, and the usually temperamental beast purred like a little engine. “She was very brave.”
“Aye, she was.”
They stayed like that for a moment, father and daughter kneeling together in a courtyard stained with blood, while around them the world slowly returned to order.
“Why did ye let her go, Da?”
Murdock blinked. “What?”
“Leona.” Skye tilted her head, studying him with those too-perceptive eyes. “Why did ye let her go? She was right here, and ye just… stood there.”
“I didnae let her go, lass. She left on her own.”
“Ye did. Ye just stood there.” Skye’s tone was matter-of-fact, holding no accusation, just simple observation. “Ye always tell me that if somethin' matters, we have to fight for it. But ye didnae fight. Ye let her walk away.”
The words hit him hard. Out of the mouths of babes, as his mother used to say.
“It’s nae that simple, Skye.”
“Why nae?” She shifted Nyx to one arm and reached out to take his hand with the other. Her small fingers wrapped around his blood-stained ones without hesitation. “If ye want her to stay, tell her. If ye love her, say so. Why is it that hard?”
“Because…” Murdock struggled to find words that would make sense to a child. “Because sometimes, even when we love someone, we have to let them go. If it’s what’s best for them.”
“But is it?” Skye’s eyes were so earnest, so full of childish wisdom. “Is lettin' her go what’s best? Or is it just what’s easiest?”
Murdock stared at his daughter, this small person who somehow saw through all of his carefully constructed defenses straight to the truth he’d been avoiding.
It was easier. Easier to let Leona believe he didn’t love her than to risk telling her and watching her realize he wasn’t enough. That his love was too dark, too damaged, too much like his father’s to be anything but poison.
“I’m afraid,” he admitted quietly. “Afraid that if I tell her how I feel, she’ll see… she’ll see what I am. What I’m capable of.” He gestured around the courtyard, to the evidence of the violence he’d dealt. “She’ll realize I’m nae the man she thinks I am.”
Skye looked around at the bloodstained stones, at the men still cleaning up the aftermath of battle. Then she looked back at him, her expression solemn.
“I think she already kens what ye are, Da. She saw ye fight. Saw ye kill that bad man. And she still kissed yer cheek and thanked ye.” She squeezed his hand.
“Maybe ye’re afraid of the wrong thing. Maybe ye should be afraid of losin' her because ye were too scared to try. I ken I was scared to pet Nyx at first, but if I hadnae, I would have lost my best friend.”
An hour later, Murdock stood in his study, staring at the ledgers on his desk without seeing them.
He’d bathed. Changed into clean clothes. Checked on his men, sent word to the other clans about what had happened. All the duties of a laird, performed with mechanical efficiency while his mind remained firmly elsewhere.
On green eyes and dark hair, and a kiss pressed to his cheek like a goodbye.
A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.
“Enter.”
Ailis slipped inside, closing the door behind her with a soft click. She looked tired; they all did after the day’s events. But her eyes were sharp as she studied him.
“Leona is preparin' to leave,” she said without preamble. “Tomorrow mornin'. She’s already sent word to have horses readied.”
The words landed like stones in his stomach. “I see.”
“Do ye?” Ailis crossed her arms. “Because from where I’m standin'', it looks like ye’re lettin the best thing that’s ever happened to ye walk away without a fight.”
“It’s what she wants.”
“Is it? Or is it what she thinks ye want?” Ailis moved closer, her voice gentle but firm. “Murdock, I watched her in that courtyard. I saw her face when she thought Ragnall would hurt ye. That wasnae a woman who wants to leave. That was a woman afraid she’s nae wanted.”
“She kens I want her.”
“Want and love arenae the same thing.” Ailis sat on the edge of his desk. “Ye’ve told her ye desire her. Told her ye’ll protect her. But have ye told her ye love her? That she’s more than an obligation or a duty? That losin' her would destroy ye?”
Murdock looked away. “I cannae.”
“Cannae? Or willnae?”
“Both.” The admission tasted bitter. “Ailis, ye ken what’s inside me. Ye’ve seen what I’m capable of.”
“Aye, I have.” Her voice was soft. “I’ve seen ye protect the people ye love with everythin' ye have. I’ve seen ye be gentle with yer daughter even when ye’re exhausted.
I’ve seen ye show mercy to men who didnae deserve it.
” She paused. “And I’ve seen ye push away anyone who gets too close because ye’re terrified of becoming our faither. ”
“I am terrified,” Murdock admitted. “Every day. Every time I feel too much, want too much, I wonder if this is how it started for him. If this is the beginning of the end.”
“But Murdock…” Ailis reached out to take his hand. “Ye ken better than anyone what is inside me. Ye saved me from drownin' when I was five. Remember?”
How could he forget? The sight of her small body thrashing in the water, their father holding her under, was seared into his memory.
“I remember.”
“And after, when I flinched away from ye, I saw something break in yer eyes. Still, ye protected me from that man. Every day.”
“By lockin' ye away to yer room. By scarin' ye so much ye’d rather run off with our enemy than stay with me.”
“Killian is the love of me life. And until he found me, ye protected me by any means possible. Even if I didnae realize, even when ye knew I’d blame ye, ye still did. That’s nae who Faither was. That’s who ye are.”
“But—”
“Nay. I ken what our faither wanted to plant inside ye. The rage, the need to control, the belief that love is possession. But he’s dead. Ye arenae. And ye shouldnae let life pass ye by because of him. He doesnae deserve to hold that kind of power over ye.”
Murdock wanted to believe her. Wanted to think he could separate himself from their father’s legacy, that he could love without destroying.
But the fear was bone-deep, bred into him through years of watching what happened when power and emotion mixed.
Before he could respond, the door burst open. Kristen swept in, her expression determined.
“Right,” she announced. “We’re nae lettin' this happen. Leona is upstairs cryin', ye’re down here broodin', and everyone is miserable. It’s ridiculous.”
“Kristen…” Ailis started.
“Nay, let me finish.” Kristen planted herself in front of Murdock’s desk. “When Neil and I were getting to ken each other, he made mistakes. Said stupid things. Was distant and infuriatin'.” She smiled slightly. “Sounds familiar, aye?”
Despite everything, Murdock felt his lips twitch. “Get to the point.”
“The point is, he realized he was being an idiot.”
“I’m nae Neil.”
“Nay, ye’re nae. Ye’re more emotionally constipated and significantly more violent.” Kristen’s expression softened. “But ye love that lass just as much as Neil loves me. Maybe more. And she deserves to ken it.”
“She kens.”
“She kens nothin'!” Kristen threw up her hands. “She thinks ye’re being noble. Sacrificin' yerself out of obligation. She has nay idea that ye’re head over heels, completely besotted, utterly—”
Another knock interrupted her. This time, Hamish poked his head in, his expression apologetic.
“Sorry to interrupt, but ye have another visitor, me Laird.”
“Who is it this time?” Murdock asked wearily.
“Aiden Calder, Laird MacBain. Says he received word about a wedding and came to celebrate.” Hamish paused. “Should I tell him…?”
“Tell him there’ll be nay weddin'.” The words were final. “Tell him to go home.”
“Murdock!” Ailis gasped.
“And all of ye, leave. Now.” Murdock didn’t raise his voice, but the command was absolute. “I need to think.”
“Ye’ve done enough thinkin',” Kristen protested. “What ye need to do is—”
“Now.” The word came out sharp, and Murdock felt the shift in himself. The warmth, the vulnerability, all of it locked away behind the walls he’d spent his whole life building.
This was the weapon his father had forged.
This was safer.
His sisters exchanged worried glances. Hamish looked like he wanted to argue, but thought better of it. One by one, they filed toward the door.
Ailis paused at the threshold. “Murdock, please. Daenae do this. Daenae shut down when ye’re this close to—”
“I said, now.”
She flinched slightly, and Murdock hated himself for it. But she left, pulling the door shut behind her.
Silence fell over the study.
Murdock sank into his chair, his head in his hands. This was better. Simpler. Let Leona go, let her find someone who could give her what she needed. Someone whole and undamaged. Someone who wouldn’t wake up every morning terrified of becoming a monster.
A small sound made him look up.
Skye stood in the doorway, Nyx in her arms, her expression determined.
“I thought I told everyone to leave.”
“Ye did. But I’m nae everyone. I’m yer daughter.” She walked into the room with the confidence of a child who knew she was loved. “And I’m nae leavin' ye alone when ye’re being silly.”
Despite everything, Murdock felt something warm flicker in his chest. “Silly, am I?”
“Aye.” Skye climbed into his lap without invitation, settling in like she belonged there. Nyx arranged herself on the desk, tail twitching. “I didnae ask ye before. Do ye want Leona to leave?”
“Nay.”
“Then tell her. Tell her to stay.” She said it with such childish certainty, as if the solution was obvious. “She will come back if we ask her nicely. I ken it.”
Murdock wrapped his arms around his daughter, holding her close, breathing in the scent of soap and innocence and unconditional love.
“What if she says nay?” he whispered.
“What if she says aye?”
Out the window, he could see movement in the courtyard. Leona, crossing toward the stables along with Rufus. Even from this distance, he could see the set of her shoulders, the careful way she held herself.
Like someone trying very hard not to break.
Tomorrow she’d be gone. Ride out of his life and back to her own castle, her own clan, her own future. A future that didn’t include him.
And he’d let her go, because that was what he did. Protected people by keeping them at arm’s length. Kept them safe by never letting them close enough to see the darkness inside him.
Except Leona had already seen it. Had watched him kill men in cold blood and still kissed his cheek. Still thanked him. Still looked at him like he was something more than a weapon.
Maybe Skye was right. He was being silly.
Or maybe he was being the coward he’d always sworn he’d never become.
“She’s leavin' tomorrow,” he said quietly, more to himself than to Skye. “At first light.”
“Then ye have until first light to change her mind.” Skye snuggled deeper into his arms. “That’s lots of time.”
Murdock looked down at his daughter, this small person who believed in him despite everything, and felt something shift in his chest.
Hope, perhaps. Or just the terrible certainty that he was about to make either the best or the worst decision of his life.
“Aye,” he murmured. “Lots of time.”
He just didn’t know if he’d have the courage to use it.