Chapter 24
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Clouds pressed low over Brochel Castle, turning the afternoon light pale and soft, as though the world had been dipped in silver.
Elsie stood by the window in her chambers, her fingers trembling ever so slightly as she broke the wax seal on the letter addressed in her sister’s familiar looping hand.
Selene.
Just seeing her name stole Elsie’s breath.
She unfolded the parchment, her eyes scanning each line, her heart aching at every word.
My dearest Elsie,
Word has finally reached me of your whereabouts, though Lord above, I still do not understand how or why you were taken so far north. I ken from your letter that you are alive and under the protection of a Highland laird.
But Elsie, are you truly safe?
Every night since you vanished, I have lain. To know you are in the Highlands, so wild, distant, so far beyond my reach, terrifies me more than not knowing ever did. You have always been brave, my sweet sister, but bravery does not soften the world’s cruelty.
I miss you so terribly. The house feels wrong without your laughter haunting the halls. I find myself speaking aloud to you, only to remember you cannot answer. I keep your shawl near me, as foolish as that sounds, because it still smells of you.
Write to me again, Elsie. Please. Tell me more about who this laird is, whether he treats you well, and when you can come home. Even if you cannot return yet, tell me when, tell me how, and I will be there waiting with open arms.
You are not forgotten. You are not abandoned. You are not alone, even if the mountains surround you instead of me.
I will come for you the moment you call for me.
With all my love,
Selene
A tear slipped down Elsie’s cheek before she could stop it. She missed her sister with an ache that had become constant, like a bruise under her ribs that never fully faded.
Footsteps sounded behind her, but she didn’t turn.
“Another letter?” Halvard’s voice rumbled gently.
Elsie wiped her cheek quickly before facing him. “It’s from Selene. She worries…”
Halvard nodded, though something tightened in his jaw. “A good sister would.”
Elsie took a steadying breath, but it trembled through her, the air hardly sufficient. “Halvard… when will we go back to England? Everyone is gone now. You said once the weather cleared I could go back.”
His gaze darkened—just for a flicker, but enough that she felt it like a shift in the wind. For a moment, he didn’t speak, and his shoulders slumped forward. He seemed so dejected, so defeated, that Elsie didn’t know what to make of it.
“Aye,” he said slowly. “That was the plan.”
The way he spoke the words made Elsie think they pained him, much more than she could have ever expected.
“But?” she pressed, trying to figure out what it was that bothered him so.
He looked away, toward the frost-laced window. “But the roads are still dangerous, the borders unsettled. And Bowen Harcourt grows bold.”
Elsie swallowed down the panic that threatened to creep up her throat when she thought of Harcourt and everything he could still attempt against her.
But she couldn’t allow that panic to stop her from reaching her sister.
Selene waited for her, and Elsie knew she wouldn’t rest until they were reunited—simply because if their roles were reversed, Elsie wouldn’t rest either.
“I know. But my sister…” Her voice cracked. “She doesn’t know what is happening to me.”
Halvard turned back to her, something raw and vulnerable flickering across his face before he forced it down. “Elsie, dae ye truly wish tae leave so badly?”
Elsie’s lips parted around a soft gasp. She hadn’t expected the question, nor the hurt behind it.
“It’s not that,” she said. “I… I want to stay with you, with the people here. But I can’t bear the thought of Selene suffering. I want to at least write her again.”
“It is too dangerous right now, there is too much of a risk of the letter bein’ intercepted,” Halvard said in a strangled voice.
For a single heartbeat, the truth sat between them—naked, heavy, bright. Elsie wanted him, and the realization strained every line of Halvard’s body. He stepped back, as though afraid that if he stayed too close, he would close the distance and kiss her until both their doubts disappeared.
“We’ll speak o’ it later,” he said quietly. “When the roads clear.”
Elsie nodded, though her chest ached. Something welled up inside her—something she couldn’t name or identify, but which ran like ice through her, chilling her to the core. It was an ache that had no cure, no relief.
And without another word, Halvard left the room with a final look she couldn’t decipher—longing mixed with fear.
The scent of rosemary and damp peat filled the kitchen as Elsie helped Muirin knead dough for the evening meal. Muirin kept swatting her hands away.
“Ye’re a stubborn one,” Muirin said, though her eyes warmed. “Most English ladies would faint at the sight o’ flour on their gowns.”
Elsie laughed, shaking her head. Everyone in the castle seemed to think she was too fragile, even for something like that, but she was eager to prove them wrong.
Never in her life had she feared any such thing, and though she couldn’t claim to have much experience in the kitchens, she could certainly help with the kneading of the dough.
“Well, I rather like flour,” she said with a small shrug.
“Aye, an’ ye rather like—”
“Muirin!” Elsie warned, her cheeks warming when Muirin smirked knowingly.
“She’ll deny it till her grave,” Muirin muttered to no one in particular.
Elsie opened her mouth to protest, but a guard burst into the kitchen, bowing his head. “Me lady, the laird seeks yer presence in his study.”
Her heart skipped, bile rising to the back of her throat. With everything happening around them those days, it was difficult to keep her mind from jumping to the worst conclusion immediately.
“Is something wrong?” she asked.
The guard hesitated. “There… is someone with him.”
Someone?
Elsie wiped her hands on her apron and hurried down the corridor, the draft biting at her cheeks. But when she entered Halvard’s study, she halted mid-step.
Halvard stood near the hearth, his arms crossed, his expression carved from stone. Beside him, small and trembling, was the boy—the very boy who had lured her from the safety of the castle. His clothes were thin, patched poorly. His eyes darted up at her, wide and wet, and Elsie’s heart twisted.
“Oh,” she whispered.
Halvard turned slightly, watching her reaction closely—too closely.
“We found him near the lower yard,” Halvard said. “Hidin’. Waitin’ fer a chance tae run.”
The boy flinched at Halvard’s harsh tone. That was the problem with him; whenever he was angry, whenever he couldn’t control his temper, it showed and it frightened those around him.
Elsie stepped forward instinctively. “Halvard, please… don’t put him in the dungeons.”
The boy’s breath hitched, tears pooling instantly at the mention of the dungeons. Elsie’s heart clenched in her chest seeing him like this. None of this was his fault. He was only a child, and he had been lured into it by people who should have known better than to put him in such danger.
But Elsie didn’t know if that would matter to Halvard.
“I dinnae intend tae,” Halvard said flatly.
Elsie blinked in surprise, the next protest dying in her throat before she could utter it.
“You… don’t?”
Halvard sighed, rubbing the back of his neck—a rare sign of uncertainty. “The lad claims he was promised coin if he helped. Said he didnae understand what the men planned. And after speakin’ with him, I believe him.”
Elsie’s chest tightened with relief. It was so strong that she almost collapsed with it, her knees threatening to buckle under her, but she steadied herself, giving Halvard a grateful look.
“So,” Halvard continued, straightening, “he’ll work in the stables fer a time. Clean, haul, fetch… hard but safe work. Under watch, until I deem him redeemed.”
Elsie exhaled in a rush, warmth blooming in her chest. “That’s… that’s very merciful of you.”
Halvard shrugged, discomfort flickering across his expression. “It’s justice, nae mercy. Actions must have consequences, but I’ll nae kill a bairn fer desperation.” His gaze drifted to Elsie. “Or fer bein’ foolish enough tae be led astray.”
The boy sniffled. “I’m sorry, me lady. I didnae mean fer ye tae get taken. They said ye’d only follow me far enough so they could talk tae ye.”
Elsie knelt and took the boy’s hands. They were so small in her own, and yet roughened by work and weather, and Elsie felt her heart seize again, the discomfort returning to her chest.
“You’re safe now. And I’m not angry with you.”
“Ye should be,” Halvard muttered behind her.
She looked up at him, her mouth pressing into a firm line. “Well, I’m not.”
Their gazes held—longer than they should have, warmer than the room allowed. Something unspoken passed between them, a current that hummed under her skin.
Halvard cleared his throat abruptly and looked away. “Sten will show the lad where tae sleep. He’ll start work in the morn.”
As Sten entered and led the boy out, Elsie stepped closer to him slowly.
“Halvard,” she whispered once they were alone, “I thought you would… punish him.”
“I’m angry but I’m nae heartless, lass,” he said. “I dinnae need more blood, let alone a bairn’s blood, stainin’ me floors. Nae when a scare an’ hard work will teach him far better.”
Her heart softened further. Though Halvard was trying to deny it, Elsie could tell he was sparing the boy because he, too, couldn’t bear to punish a child severely, regardless of what he had done.
“You saved his life.”
His jaw tightened and he shook his head, stubborn as ever. “I saved yer heart from breakin’. If I’d hurt that lad, ye’d have looked at me differently. And that…” He swallowed audibly, his gaze casting downwards, “That, I cannae stomach.”
Elsie’s breath stilled. Heat pooled in her chest, spreading outward like warm honey, like sunlight breaking through frost.
“You think about me feelings that much?” she asked, trying to hide the profound effect his words had on her behind a teasing tone.
Halvard’s eyes locked on hers—torn-bright, stripped of every guard he usually wore like armor.
“I dinnae ken when it started,” he admitted. His voice was dangerously honest, unshielded. “Or how. But it’s a fact now. Yer happiness matters tae me… too much.”
Elsie’s heart fluttered wildly, painfully.
“Halvard,” she breathed. His name left her lips like a confession.
He moved before she could blink, closing the distance, one hand cupping the back of her neck, his thumb brushing the curve of her jaw. His touch was warm, grounding, yet it sent shivers racing down her spine.
“Elsie,” he murmured, so close she felt his breath on her lips, “ye’re gettin’ under me skin.”
“Is that so terrible?” she whispered.
He shook his head once, slow and aching. “It’s the only thing that’s felt right in a long time.”
Elsie’s fingers curled into the fabric of his tunic. Halvard’s heartbeat thudded under her palm, once strong and steady, but now racing.
And then he kissed her.
It wasn’t frantic like before, not born of fear or relief. This kiss was deliberate, deep, a claiming and a surrender all at once. His mouth moved against hers with hunger held barely in check, with a tenderness he probably didn’t even know he was capable of.
Elsie melted into him, every pulse in her body sparking to life. His other hand slid around her waist, pulling her flush against him. She gasped softly at the feel of him—solid, warm, unmistakably wanting.
“Elsie,” he rasped against her lips, “tell me tae stop.”
“I won’t.”
He groaned, low and tortured, undone. In a single fluid motion, Halvard swept her off her feet, lifting her effortlessly into his arms, and Elsie let out a breathless gasp, her hands flying to his shoulders.
“Halvard!” she shrieked, startled by the sudden movement, by the speed with which she found herself dangling in the air.
“Hush,” he said, his eyes dark with heat and something deeper. “I’m takin’ ye somewhere more private.”
Any protests she had died on her tongue before she could express them. She couldn’t think of anything she wanted more than for Halvard to take her to their chambers, giving her an outlet for the need that had coursed through her ever since he kissed her.
Ever since he had revealed just how much he cared for her.
Halvard carried her through the dim halls, and every inch closer to their bedchamber tightened the coil of desire winding inside her. The moment he crossed the threshold, he closed the door behind them with his foot, and Elsie forgot how to draw breath into her lungs.
The fire in the hearth glowed low, casting warm shadows across the room—the same room where they had pretended to be married, where they had shared hesitant smiles, stolen glances, had had arguments and had made stubborn confessions.
But now, none of this was pretense.
Halvard set her down gently, as though thinking that if he wasn’t careful, he might crush her with the intensity burning through them both. He cupped her face again, his forehead resting against hers. When he spoke, his voice shook.
“Elsie… are ye sure?”
She nodded without hesitation. “Yes.”
“Even kennin’ what this means?”
“I don’t care,” she said. “I want you.”
His breath came out in a ragged sigh. Then he kissed her again—deeper, needier, passion coiling between them like fire drawn to flame, and Elsie surrendered to it, trusting him to give her what she needed the most.