Chapter 16 #2
The admission came out harsher than she expected, scraping her throat on its way out. But once spoken, it rushed forward like a confession determined to break free after years of silence.
“I was spoiled,” she said. “I was the favored one. Iris was always so much kinder than me, so much better, and yet everyone expected her to be quiet, obedient, forgotten. And I let it happen. I dinnae see it happenin’.”
Kieran’s shoulders eased a fraction, his expression shifting toward something softer—concern, maybe even sympathy—but Lydia didn’t let him speak.
She needed to finish.
“I was too wrapped up in me own desires, me own whims. Too used to bein’ the one everyone fussed over.
When me parents scolded Iris, I dinnae question it.
When they pushed responsibilities on her, I ignored it.
And when they told me I was to marry a man I dinnae want…
I refused. And then I ran, and Iris paid the price. ”
The words felt like stones falling from her chest. Some of the weight that she had seemed to carry all this time lessened, but she knew it would soon return—it always did. A confession was not enough. If it was, she would have gotten rid of this weight a long time ago.
“She married the man meant for me, married him without complaint. Married him when she dinnae ken if he’d treat her kindly or cruelly.” Her voice trembled, cracking at the edges. “Iris risked everythin’ because I was too cowardly to face me fate.”
Kieran’s face softened so much that Lydia almost couldn’t bear it.
“She did that out of love,” Kieran said. “Ye were nae a coward for havin’ fears.”
But Lydia shook her head. “Fear makes ye human. But runnin’ from responsibility?
From consequence? That was cowardice.” She swallowed, forcing herself to meet his eyes despite the shame rising hot in her chest. “I daenae deserve what Iris did for me. Nay sister should’ve had to pay the price for me selfishness.
She’s happy now, truly. She and her husband are perfectly matched.
Sometimes it frightens me how lucky she was, but she could have very well nae been as lucky. She could have suffered in me stead.”
She wiped at her eyes quickly, not wanting him to see the tears that threatened to spill from them, but Kieran saw everything. He always did.
Kieran watched her with an intensity that made Lydia feel as though the air itself had stilled between them.
His expression was softer now; still carved with tension, still shadowed with fear and anger on her behalf, but softened all the same.
His voice dropped low, carrying a warmth that sank into her bones.
“Lydia, ye were nay at fault for their behavior,” he said. “What yer parents did, what they forced upon ye and Iris… ye dinnae choose any of it.”
A bitter breath escaped her. “Iris says the same. She tells me over and over that I couldnae have known, that it was never me responsibility.”
“And she’s right,” Kieran said firmly.
“But I still cannae forgive myself,” Lydia admitted.
The admission felt like tearing a wound open with her own hands. Something inside her ached—a deep ache she had spent months pushing down under polite smiles and quiet obedience.
Kieran stepped closer, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating off him, close enough that she had to tilt her chin to keep his gaze. The wind whipped gently at his hair, but nothing else moved.
“Maybe nae yet,” he said. “Maybe nae on the morrow.” He lifted a hand—slow, careful—as though worried she would flinch like a spooked animal. “But I can help ye forget. If ye’ll let me.”
To forget.
Not the past—he wasn’t foolish enough to promise that—but perhaps the guilt, the pain, the weight she had carried so long she had nearly grown numb to it.
She blinked up at him, her breath trembling in her chest. And when she didn’t step back, his hand found her cheek at last, warm and impossibly gentle for a man who had torn through two assassins not half an hour earlier.
Her pulse thundered in her neck, the feel of it almost foreign, startling.
It was far from the first time he had touched her like this—if anything, they had shared far more sensual moments—but there was something about his gaze, something about the tender way he held onto her that was entirely new, igniting something within her.
He leaned in slightly, enough that his breath brushed her forehead, enough that she could see the flecks of gold in his dark eyes.
“Lydia…” he whispered.
She thought her knees might give out. He was close—too close, not close enough.
His thumb traced the line of her cheekbone.
She had the distinct, dizzying sense that if he kissed her now, she would never recover—and never want to.
Lydia felt herself tilt toward him without thinking, her lips parting just barely, and Kieran lowered his head toward hers, slow but certain, intent and impossibly tender—
A clatter burst from the doorway, and both of them jerked apart. Lydia’s heart slammed so hard she swore Kieran could hear it echoing off the courtyard walls.
Chloe stood frozen in the archway, her arms overloaded with a pile of linens and a lantern swaying precariously from her elbow.
Her mouth opened and closed like a startled fish, and for a moment, she seemed to have lost any function that controlled higher speech, too startled by the sight before her.
“Och! Och heavens… Me Laird, Me Lady, I’m so sorry, I dinnae mean… och saints preserve me…” Chloe’s cheeks were scarlet, her voice a breathless rush. “I thought ye’d still be in the hall and I… och please forgive me; I’ll go now; I’ll go right now—”
Kieran, to his credit, recovered quicker than Lydia did though the muscle ticking in his jaw suggested he was choosing his words very carefully.
“Chloe,” he said, voice low and not entirely steady, “it’s fine.”
“It is absolutely nae fine,” Chloe blurted, horrified at herself. “I interrupted somethin’, dinnae I? I did. Och saints, I did.”
Lydia felt heat crawl up her neck, her face burning so hot she swore it must be glowing in the moonlight.
“Chloe,” Lydia managed weakly, “please breathe.”
“I cannae, Me Lady, me breath’s gone somewhere and left me…” She gasped. “I’ll just... I’ll go. I’ll leave the linens. I’ll leave the castle if ye prefer—”
“Nay one needs to leave the castle,” Kieran mumbled, rubbing a hand over his face.
Chloe yelped, nearly dropping the lantern, then bolted inside, her footsteps echoing like a frantic rabbit fleeing a wolf. And then silence fell, ringing and awkward.
Lydia stood frozen, heart pounding wildly in her chest, Kieran still close enough that she could feel the ghost of his warmth where he had touched her cheek.
“Saints,” Kieran muttered under his breath. “If that isnae the worst damn timin’…”
Lydia’s blush deepened, her entire face burning so hot, she feared she would soon begin to steam in the night air. “Aye,” she said. “It… was.”
But under the embarrassment, under the raw nerves and the lingering fear of the evening’s events, something else curled, warm and bright in her chest, simply because he hadn’t stepped away.
Kieran was still standing before her. He was still close. He was still looking at her as though he would kiss her again the moment they were alone.
And this time, Lydia wasn’t about to go running.