Chapter Thirteen
Beitris had only meant to fetch more herbs from the apothecary, nothing more than that. But as she stepped into the village square, basket in hand and mind on her errands, the familiar creak of wheels and the sharp clop of hooves drew her attention.
A horse-drawn wagon rolled into view, sunlight glinting off its polished wood. The man driving took her breath. He sat tall, shoulders squared, everything about him exuding confidence and power. Liam was a born leader, a born warrior. Nothing about his presence could be taught.
He guided the horse with easy confidence, shoulders broad beneath his tunic, hair catching gold from the late morning sun. His expression was focused until he spotted her, then something flickered across his face. Something warm. Something that made her pulse skip against her will.
He brought the wagon to a halt beside her. “Beitris.”
She swallowed. “Liam.”
He climbed down with a smoothness that startled her. His movements far smoother than the last time she’d seen him move. He landed on the ground with hardly a wince. Her brows lifted, suspicion mingling with surprise.
“I’ve been looking for ye,” he said, voice low and intent. “I… have something to tell ye.” he hesitated, searching her eyes. “Would ye come with me?”
A dozen alarms clanged in her head. Absolutely not. That should have been her answer. She’d decided, firmly that she was done letting Liam McRay drag her heart through the mud.
But her traitorous heart stirred at the intensity in his gaze.
“Where?” she asked, keeping her voice clipped, controlled.
His lips curved slightly. “Ye will see.”
“No,” she countered, lifting her chin. “If ye mean for me to go anywhere with ye, Liam, ye’ll have to explain why.”
He rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish and earnest all at once. “It’s not far, just past the edge of the village there.” He pointed forward past the seamstress’s shop. “And I promise to bring ye back straight away. Trust me.”
That was precisely the problem. She still wanted to believe him. To trust him. To be near him. And she was furious with herself for it.
She let out a slow, steadying breath. “Fine,” she said finally. “But only because I’ve errands in that direction.”
Liam didn’t call her bluff, though his eyes glimmered with amusement. “Aye,” he said. “Of course.”
Beitris climbed onto the wagon, settling beside him but leaving a careful gap between them. The scent of wood shavings clung to him, clean and warm, mixed with something else she couldn’t quite name. Something new.
As they set off, the wheels bumped over the rutted path leading away from the village, she kept her gaze forward, refusing to be caught looking at him, though every sense she possessed was acutely aware of his nearness.
“Ye’re quiet,” he said after a moment.
“And ye are not,” she replied without looking at him.
His low chuckle brushed over her like warm air. “Fair enough.”
The path curved, leading into the woods and up a gentle rise. And then the trees broke open into a clearing she didn’t entirely recognize. But nestled just past a line of trees, stood a beautiful cottage.
Beitris blinked, surprised. The structure was simple but sturdy. Its fresh wood bathed in the sunlight. Smoke curled lazily from a stone chimney. The faint scent of pine, earth, and newly cut timber filled the air.
“What is this place?” she asked softly.
“My home,” Liam said, hopping down before offering her a hand.
She ignored the offered hand, no need to make her heart’s job any harder, and climbed down on her own. He didn’t appear offended. If anything, he looked amused.
“Two men and I have been building it for the past fortnight or so,” he informed her, pride warming his voice. “It’s nearly done.”
She walked closer, fingertips drifting over the smooth timber frame. “It’s lovely,” she admitted.
“Aye, well, it’ll be better once the thatching is done,” he said lightly. “And once I’ve proper furnishings.”
Her lips twitched despite herself.
“And that’s not all,” he added.
He gestured toward the far end of the clearing, where young saplings had been cleared and marked posts staked into the earth in a long, wide formation.
“Come,” he said, leading her by the elbow to stand near the area.
Beitris frowned. “What is that?”
“My next task,” Liam said, voice quiet but brimming with something she rarely heard from him, excitement. “I’m building an archery training field.”
Her breath caught. “For what purpose?”
“For the laird,” he said. “Alexander and I spoke. He wants me to train the younger men, or any men willing, to serve as archers for the guard force.” His gaze lifted to hers, earnest and steady.
“I’ll not be riding with the mounted warriors again.
But that does nae mean I will nae serve. This way I can still be of use.”
Emotion wrenched at her chest. Pride for him. Relief that he’d found purpose. And an ache she didn’t want but couldn’t banish.
“That is…” she paused and swallowed hard. “That is wonderful news, Liam. Truly.”
For a moment, he looked at her the way he had the day they’d found themselves alone by the river. As though he’d found her to be the most beautiful woman in the world.
Trying to regain her composure, she looked away, then it struck her, he was barely limping. She turned back and scanned him from his hip to his boot. “Ye are walking better.”
His eyes shifted nervously. “Aye. I find myself feeling much better. I believe it is that I have a true purpose now.” He studied her for a long time. “Two purposes.”
She looked away quickly, forcing her voice into steadier lines. “Why bring me here?”
“Because I wanted ye to see what I am building and what my life will be now.”
“I am truly happy for ye,” Beitris said, wishing she meant it. Aye, she was glad for him, but at the same time, it meant he would be closer and a temptation, a mistake she couldn’t afford to make. The last thing she wanted was to be another conquest in the list of many.
“Ye can be here, with me, anytime ye please.” Liam’s words startled her. The gall of the man.
She crossed her arms, trying to stiffen her spine.
“Liam McRay, ye think ye can simply pull me onto a wagon, bring me to a pretty cottage, and I will fall into bed with ye? Forget how easily ye walked away? I am nae a conquest to be had.” Despite the ire in her voice, the last word trembled.
Tears burned her eyes and she turned away, not wanting him to see it.
He lifted a brow. “Is that what ye think I’m trying to do?”
“I dinnae ken what ye’re trying to do,” she snapped.
Liam took her by the shoulders and turned her to face him. They stood close enough that she felt the warmth of him. “Then let me be plain. I wanted ye here. I wanted ye to see this. Because whether ye like it or not, Beitris ye matter to me.”
Her breath hitched.
She hated how easily he could unravel her.
Beitris stood frozen, her breath caught somewhere between her ribs and her throat. Though she told herself she wasn’t, she waited. Because something in Liam’s eyes had shifted. Gone was the forced cheer, the careful tones, the guarded distance he usually kept. What remained was raw and unshielded.
Liam stepped closer, slow and deliberate. Not trapping her, never that, but inviting her into the space between them.
“Beitris,” he said softly, her name leaving him like an exhale he’d been holding for too long.
“I’ve no skill with words, and I’ve made a damned mess of things between us.
I ken that. But I want…” His voice faltered, and he swallowed hard.
“I want ye to understand one thing, and I’ll speak it plain because I cannae keep it down any longer. ”
Her heart hammered painfully against her ribs.
He continued, voice low and rough with truth, “I care for ye. Deeply. More than I’ve cared for anyone outside my own blood.
More than I meant to. More than is wise.
” His gaze didn’t waver, even as his breath shook.
“When I thought I’d no place in this world anymore, ye were the one constant.
Ye held me together when I felt like nothing.
And that scared me, because I didnae feel worthy of ye. ”
Her lips parted, but no sound rose.
“So I pulled back,” Liam admitted, shame flickering across his face. “I thought if ye distanced yerself, ye’d be spared the weight of me. But all I did was hurt ye, and myself. And I will not do that again, Beitris. Not if ye’ll allow me to do better.”
Silence settled around them, soft as falling snow.
Beitris stared at him, emotions cresting so swiftly she could hardly breathe. The sincerity in his eyes struck her like an arrow. She wanted to run. To flee from the enormity of it. From the risk. From the way her heart felt too big for her chest.
He must have read the fear in her expression, because he stepped back, not away, but enough to give her room to breathe. “I’m not asking for an answer. Or forgiveness. I only wanted ye to ken the truth.”
But that made it worse, because she did ken. And because she had her own truth twisting inside her like a living thing.
“Liam…” Her voice trembled. “Ye frighten me.”
His eyes tightened not with anger, but with a grief so gentle it nearly undid her. “Aye,” he whispered. “I ken that, too.”
She shook her head, struggling for breath. “Not ye. Not who ye are. But the way I feel when I’m near ye. The way my heart behaves as if it has a will of its own.” She pressed a hand to her chest. “I hate that I cannae control it. Hate that after all the hurt, part of me still wants to be with ye.”
The words choked her, too fragile to force out.
Liam’s voice softened to something almost reverent. “Beitris… look at me.”
She did.
Slowly, she lifted her gaze and found him watching her as though she were the very miracle he’d wished for.
“I will never ask ye to stop being afraid,” he murmured. “But I’ll stand with ye through it. Always.”
Her breath shuddered out of her. And despite all her fear, all her caution, all the tight knots she’d twisted around her own heart, she stepped toward him.
A single step.
It was all he needed.
Liam’s hand lifted slowly, giving her every chance to pull away and brushed the back of his fingers along her cheek. His touch was warm, trembling faintly. She closed her eyes, leaning just a fraction into his palm.
He let out a shaky breath, as if that tiny gesture unraveled him completely.
“Beitris,” he whispered, her name a prayer. “May I?”
Her heart flipped, stuttering into a wild, fragile rhythm.
“Aye,” she breathed. “Ye may.”
He lowered his head, slow as sunrise, and when his lips met hers, the world softened around them. The kiss was tender, achingly so, filled with apology, longing, promise. She felt his restraint, the way he held himself carefully as though she was something precious and breakable.
Her hands rose uncertain, then rested against his chest feeling the steady beat beneath her palms.
The moment she touched him, something inside her gave way. All the fear. All the tension. All the walls she’d built to protect herself. She leaned into him fully, returning the kiss with all the emotion she’d fought so desperately to bury.
He pulled her closer, the low sound of relief and wonder and something deeper escaping from him.
When they finally parted, their breaths seemed loud in the quiet clearing.
“I love ye,” Liam whispered, his tone vulnerable. “I’ve loved ye far longer than I understood.”
Tears stung her eyes, but she smiled through them, her voice breaking. “And I love ye, Liam McRay. Though I tried not to. Saints forgive me, I tried.”
He laughed with quiet, breathless, disbelieving joy. “I’m glad ye failed.”
She pressed a trembling hand to his cheek. “Aye. So am I.”