Chapter 19
Callum has slept in a lot of rooms in this castle.
None of them feels like this one.
Isla’s bedroom is large, but it doesn’t feel imposing.
The stone walls soften beneath lamplight, shadows gathering gently in the corners instead of looming.
There are no Keir trophies here. No evidence of conquest or legacy.
Just signs of a life half-lived elsewhere, an overnight bag, sheet music stacked on the desk, a sweater draped over the back of a chair like she dropped it without thinking.
She didn’t create this space.
She’s inhabiting it.
Callum stands just inside the door while Isla crosses the room, her movements slow, deliberate, as if she’s afraid that if she moves too quickly, the moment will fracture. She sets the divorce papers carefully on the desk, aligning the edges, a familiar gesture now.
Control.
Even here.
Even now.
She turns to him, her face unreadable.
“This doesn’t mean I’m not angry,” she says.
Callum nods. “I’d be worried if you weren’t.”
Her mouth twitches, something like relief flickering across her face.
“And it doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven anyone,” she adds.
“I wouldn’t ask you to,” he replies.
She studies him for a long moment, as if weighing something she hasn’t yet put into words.
“I don’t want to be handled tonight,” Isla says quietly. “I don’t want to be managed. Or rescued. Or fixed. I just need to feel something besides the hurt that fills me.”
The words hit him square in the chest.
“I can do that,” Callum says. “But you need to know, if I stay, I stay because you chose me. Not because you’re hurt.”
Her eyes shine, but she doesn’t look away. “You’re like a tourniquet to stop the bleeding.”
“I know.”
“And I’m choosing you anyway.”
Something inside him loosens. Something dangerous. All she wants is sex, but a part of him wants so much more.
Callum crosses the room slowly, giving her time to step back if she wants to. She doesn’t. She stands her ground, chin lifted, shoulders squared, not defensive, just honest.
He stops in front of her, close enough to feel her warmth.
“This is the part where I should say we can wait,” he admits.
She exhales shakily. “And this is the part where I tell you I don’t want to.”
He nods once. “All right.”
He lifts his hand, pauses, and waits.
Isla answers by placing her palm over his wrist, guiding his hand to her waist. Her touch is steady, intentional. Consent made visible.
Callum’s breath leaves him slowly. For days, he’s dreamed of them together. Naked and willing and tangled in each other’s arms.
His mouth descends, and he can’t help himself. “Last chance to say no.”
“Shut up and fuck me,” she whispers.
Desire riddles him like bullet holes, and he kisses her like he never intends to leave. Which is what he’s been thinking of. They’re both damaged, and they could heal one another.
Her lips part beneath his, and she leans into him, not collapsing, not clinging, meeting him halfway. When his arms come around her, she exhales against his mouth, a sound that goes straight through him.
God.
He has wanted her since the first day he saw her, but this, this isn’t want.
This is something deeper. Something that scares him.
He breaks the kiss first, forehead resting against hers, breathing her in.
“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he murmurs again.
She shakes her head. “Tell me if you plan to leave.”
The question cuts.
“I won’t,” he says immediately. Then, more carefully, “Not tonight. Not like this.”
How can he promise her anything when his own life is in such turmoil?
She nods, accepting the honesty.
They move together toward the bed, not in a rush, not avoiding the moment either. Isla sits on the edge first, hands braced beside her, watching him like she’s memorizing this version of him, unguarded, stripped of roles.
Callum kneels in front of her without thinking.
The position feels right. Intentional.
He rests his hands on her knees, grounding himself there, anchoring the moment.
“You should know,” he says quietly, “I’m terrified.”
Her brows lift. “Of me?”
“No,” he answers. “Of being another man who takes something from you and leaves you carrying the weight alone.”
Isla’s throat works. “Then don’t take,” she says. “Give.”
The word settles into him like a vow, and he moans at the significance.
He lifts his mouth to hers and kisses her again, slower this time, reverent. The world narrows to the warmth of her mouth, the way her fingers curl into his shirt as if holding him in place.
When he finally pulls back, her eyes are dark, bright with emotion she isn’t trying to hide.
“Callum,” she whispers, like his name is something fragile.
Leaning down to him, she meets him halfway.
It is a kiss of desperation and longing, and it takes Callum completely by surprise.
Her mouth covers his, moving over his lips, seeking comfort in an age-old connection.
And Callum is more than happy to return her kiss, eager, in fact, to soothe and remind her she is still alive.
She moans, the sound encouraging him. Her hands reach beneath his sweater, and she lets her fingernails gently rake his skin. Their lips break apart, and he yanks his sweater over his head as Isla undoes the buttons on her blouse and removes it, leaving only her bra.
Still kneeling before her, he leans over and kisses the tops of her breasts that spill forth.
His tongue trails over her smooth skin, and she leans back, giving him access to her throat.
Eagerly, he takes her cue and kisses his way across her chest and up her throat, lingering at her ear.
He wants to make her feel good. He wants to comfort her and make the demons from the day disappear.
He wants to remove all thoughts and envelop her in sensual pleasure.
She pushes him back and stands. Slowly, she slides down the zipper of her jeans and steps out of them, leaving them on the floor. She stands before him, beautiful in her panties and bra.
“God, Isla, you’re stunning,” he says, reaching for her.
She takes his hand and pulls him up until he’s standing, and then she unbuttons his jeans and slides them down his legs.
At first, Callum is a little surprised by the way she takes control.
Isla didn’t seem like the type to want to lead, but then he realizes that tonight she needs to be in control of something in her life.
Taking the lead in their lovemaking is the only thing she has after learning the truth of why her father never came to see her.
He doesn’t mind. He’s wanted to get her in bed since that first kiss and had been impatiently waiting, knowing instinctively that this woman would somehow fill that empty part of him and hoping he did the same for her.
Grabbing her, he twists her up against the wall and presses his body into hers, letting her feel his erection.
“God,” she whispers, clinging to him. “I want you so badly.”
Urgently, his hands push her bra down, and her breasts are free for his taking. His mouth wraps around her nipple, and he suckles until she moans.
Her eyes darken with desire, and her breathing is quick and heavy.
“Take me to bed,” she gasps. “I need you.”
“Gladly,” he says and leads her to the bed, where he lies beside her.
His mouth hungrily seeks hers while he runs his hands over her body. He’s dreamed of this moment, and now here she is naked in bed with him.
She wraps her fingers around his shaft, and he moans as she strokes him, the pleasure increasing.
He doesn’t want her to stop, but tonight is all about giving her pleasure.
His fingers find her center and caress her as she gasps and writhes upon the bed.
She needs this moment as much as he needs her.
His lips taste her skin as he drinks in her beauty, and soon he feels her body tense and shudder beneath his fingers.
“Callum,” she cries, reaching her release, and he smiles, knowing he’s made her forget for the moment. Made her forget her lousy parenting. Made her forget not knowing her father.
“Oh, my,” she said, her breathing rapid and shallow. “Oh, my.”
“I love the way you come,” he whispers against her mouth, wanting her to feel cherished.
She grins and kisses him before he releases her and finds the condom he’d laid out. Quickly, he rips open the foil packet and stretches the condom over his penis.
Isla crawls on top of him and straddles him. This woman needs to feel in control, and for now, he’ll gladly let her. Tonight, he’s consoled her, he’s made her feel good, and now it’s his turn to sink into her body and find his release.
All he wants is to take care of her for the rest of his days, and that thought shocks him. They are still enemies, but they’re also now lovers, and he doesn’t know what will happen, but for now, this is enough.
After everything she’d endured tonight, having Isla come to him felt like being chosen, not as a refuge from the world, but as shelter within it.
When she is with him, the castle, the papers, the ghosts of the past can’t touch them.
For the first time in years, he feels something steady take hold inside his chest.
Safety.
Care.
Things he’d learned not to expect with his own family. Only from Keir, and now he is gone.
She moves over him, and the way she fit, perfectly, intimately, draws a sharp breath from his lungs. It is like they are made for each other, and he’s never experienced that before.
Her reactions, the soft sound she made, tells him how close she already is, how deeply emotion and sensation are tangled for her. It only makes him want to be careful. To be present. To give her everything. And yet the castle remains between them.
She moves with intention, her body answering something deeper than desire. He watches her face as she rides him, the emotion there unmistakable, open, unguarded, fierce. His hands come to her breasts, grounding himself in the reality of her, the heat, the connection.
“Isla,” he says, her name leaving him like a truth he can no longer keep inside.
She looks down at him, eyes bright and alive, holding his gaze as if anchoring them together. The moment feels suspended, unreal, like they are leaving the world behind.
He feels it build, the tension coiling tight, knows he’s close and doesn’t want to pull away from her, not now, not when she is right there with him.
When his orgasm finally overtakes him, the release is overwhelming, and the way she follows, calling his name, clinging to him, undoes him completely.
He holds her through it, through the final shuddering moments, until her body finally gives in and she collapses against him, boneless and spent.
For a long time, neither of them move.
Stunned, he holds onto her, knowing that something has just happened between them that is both satisfying and terrifying at the same time.
When he finally shifts, careful not to jostle her, he rolls her gently onto her side and pulls her back against him, fitting himself to her in a way that feels instinctive. Protective. Right.
They lie there together, breathing slowing, hearts finding their rhythm again.
“Isla,” he murmurs against her ear. “That was… incredible.”
She smiles, soft and satisfied. “You weren’t too bad yourself.”
Callum closes his eyes, holding her a little closer, knowing with absolute certainty that this, this, isn’t something he would ever walk away from. He only hopes she feels the same way.