Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
"Ye're starin'."
Harald tore his gaze away from the window overlooking the training grounds. Leo stood in the doorway of his solar, arms crossed, wearing that insufferable knowing expression.
"I'm observin'," Harald corrected. "There's a difference."
"Is there?" Leo moved to stand beside him, following his line of sight to where Enya and Amelia walked along the edge of the practice yard. "Because from here it looks remarkably like starin'."
Harald didn't dignify that with a response. Below, Enya had stopped to watch two of his men sparring, her expression intent. She was studying their footwork, he realized. Analyzing the way they moved.
Gathering information? Or just curious?
He still couldn't tell, and the uncertainty gnawed at him.
"She asked about trainin' this mornin'," Leo said casually. "Wanted to ken if women were allowed to watch the practice bouts."
"What did ye tell her?"
"That she's to be lady of this castle, so she can watch whatever she damn well pleases." Leo's tone turned thoughtful. "She seemed surprised by that. Like she expected tae be told nay."
"She probably did expect that." Harald thought of the children yesterday, the way they'd warmed to Enya once he'd shown them she was safe. "She's used tae bein' told nay. Used tae doors closin' before she can even knock."
"Aye. So maybe ye should stop starin' through windows and actually talk tae her."
"I talked tae her last night."
"Ye interrogated her last night." Leo moved toward the door. "And fer the record? If she is spyin' fer her braither, she's the worst spy I've ever seen. She spent half an hour this mornin' helpin' the cook reorganize the herb stores. Nae exactly gatherin' military intelligence, is it?"
He left before Harald could argue, leaving him alone with his suspicions and the view of Enya walking through his training grounds like she belonged there.
Which, in ten days, she would.
The thought should have settled something in his chest. Instead, it only made the uncertainty worse.
Harald was still wrestling with indecision when he finally gave in and went down to the training yard. He told himself it was to check on his men's progress. To ensure the new recruits were learning properly.
Enya was standing with Amelia near the weapons rack when he approached, both watching the sparring with identical expressions of concentration. Neither noticed him until he spoke.
"See anythin' ye like?"
Enya jumped, spinning to face him with wide eyes. "I—we were just—"
"Watchin'." Harald gestured to the practice ring. "It's fine. Ye are welcome tae observe."
"Oh." Some of the tension left her shoulders. "Thank ye. It's... interestin'. The way they move. How they—" She stopped, seeming to catch herself.
"Dinnae stop." Harald studied her face, noting the bruise had faded to yellow-green. "Ye have an eye fer tactics?"
"I have an eye fer patterns." Enya's voice was careful. "And they're repeatin' the same sequence. The taller one always feints left before strikin' right."
She was right. Harald had noticed the same tell in young Fergus's form just the day before.
"Aye, he daes. I've been tryin' tae break him of it." Harald watched her watching the fighters. "Ye'd make a good commander, with observation skills like that."
"I'd make a terrible commander. I cannae even manage me own maid properly." But there was a hint of a smile in her voice.
As if summoned by the mention, Amelia let out a sharp shriek.
Harald's hand went to his sword instinctively, scanning for threats. "What?"
"Spider!" Amelia was pressed against the weapons rack, pointing at something on the ground with a shaking finger. "It's huge! Kill it, please, someone kill it!"
Harald looked down. The spider in question was maybe the size of his thumbnail. Hardly huge.
But before he could say anything, Enya had knelt down and simply scooped the creature into her cupped hands.
"It's just a wee thing, Amelia. Look." She held her hands out, letting the spider crawl across her palm. "See? Harmless."
"It's horrible," Amelia said with feeling. "And ye're mad fer touchin' it." She moved away with a disgusted face.
"It's more afraid of us than we are of it." Enya walked the spider over to the stone wall and gently deposited it in a crack between the stones. "There. Safe and sound."
She straightened, brushing her hands off, and caught Harald staring.
"What?" Self-consciousness crept into her expression. "Dae I have spider on me face."
"Ye're kind tae yer maid," Harald said before he could think better of it.
"She's nae just me maid. She's me friend." Enya glanced at Amelia, who was still eyeing the wall suspiciously. "Has been since we were children. I'd nae be here without her."
"Most ladies wouldnae care if their maids were frightened."
"Most ladies havenae spent their lives bein' the one everyone else is frightened of." Enya's voice was quiet. "I ken what it's like tae have people dismiss yer fears. I'll nae dae that tae her."
The simple honesty of it struck something in Harald's chest. He'd been so focused on what Enya might be hiding that he'd forgotten to notice what she was showing him.
Kindness. Loyalty. The kind of casual compassion that couldn't be faked.
"That's..." He struggled for words. "That's good. That ye care fer her like that."
"She's a person, nae a title." Enya's mismatched eyes met his steadily. "Same as ye and me. Same as everyone here. Seems like ye ken that already, though. I've seen how ye speak tae yer people."
"Have ye now?"
"Aye. Like they matter. Like their opinions are worth hearin'." Something shifted in her expression. "It's... nae what I expected."
"What did ye expect?" Harald asked, even though he knew he wouldn't like the answer.
"A tyrant. A conqueror." Enya's voice dropped. "A monster who'd take what he wanted without carin' who he hurt."
"That's what yer braither told ye."
It wasn't a question, but Enya nodded anyway. "He said the Norse were raiders. That ye'd use the Pact tae get close tae our lands before strikin'."
"And ye believed him?"
"I..." Enya looked away. "I didnae ken what tae believe. But ye were the enemy who killed me faither, so aye. I believed the worst."
The admission hurt more than it should have. But at least it was honest.
"And now?" Harald pressed. "Dae ye still think I'm a monster?"
Enya's gaze returned to his face, searching for something he couldn't name.
"Nay," she said finally. "Now I think ye're just a man tryin' tae dae right by his people. Same as anyone else."
The words settled between them like a truce. Not trust yet. But maybe the beginning of understanding.
"Come with me," Harald said impulsively.
Enya blinked. "What?"
"There's somethin' I want tae show ye. If ye're tae be lady here, ye should ken the land." He was already moving toward the stables, not giving himself time to reconsider. "Unless ye'd rather stay here and rescue more spiders."
"I—" Enya glanced at Amelia, who had joined them again, waved her away.
"Go on, me lady. I'll be fine. Just... keep her away from wolves this time, aye, me laird?"
"I'll dae me best." Harald offered Enya his arm. "Well? Are ye comin'?"
She took it, and Harald tried not to notice how perfectly her arm fit in his.
The coastal path was beautiful in the afternoon light—all grey stone and restless sea, with gulls wheeling overhead and the salt wind cutting sharp and clean. Harald had taken this route a thousand times, but seeing it through Enya's eyes made it feel new.
She sat behind on his horse, his arms around her waist for balance, and every time she gasped at some view or pointed out a seal on the rocks, Harald felt something in his chest loosen.
This was what he'd wanted to show her. Not the fortress walls or the weapons stores, but this—the wild beauty of Lewis, the reason he fought to protect it.
"It's bonnie," Enya breathed as they crested a rise overlooking a sheltered cove. "I've never seen the sea like this."
"Wait until ye see it from the water." Harald guided the horse down toward the beach where he kept a small boat for coastal patrols. "That's when ye truly understand it."
They reached the shore and Harald helped Enya down, very aware of his hands on her waist, of the way she looked up at him with those impossible eyes.
"We're goin' out there?" Enya eyed the waves uncertainly. "In that wee boat?"
"It's nae as wee as it looks. And the weather's fine—we'll just row out far enough to see the cliffs from a different angle." Harald was already pulling the boat toward the water. "Unless ye're afraid?"
"I'm nae afraid." But her voice said otherwise.
"Ye're a terrible liar, Lady Cameron."
"And ye're an insufferable ken-it-all, Laird Harald." But she stepped into the boat when he offered his hand, settling on the bench with careful dignity.
Harald pushed them off and took up the oars, rowing with steady strokes that carried them out past the breaking waves.
The sea was calm, but even as he rowed, Harald noticed the sky darkening to the west.
Storm coming. Fast.
"We should head back—" he started.
The wind hit like a fist.
One moment the water was merely choppy. The next, waves were rising around them, angry and white-capped, driven by a wind that seemed to come from nowhere.
The boat pitched violently, and Enya grabbed the sides with white-knuckled hands.
"Harald…"
"I ken. Hold on." He fought with the oars, trying to turn them back toward shore, but the current had other ideas. It pulled them sideways, toward the rocks, toward the place where water met stone with bone-breaking force.
Another wave crashed over the bow. Enya cried out as cold water soaked them both, and Harald saw real terror in her eyes.
"Look at me," he commanded. "Enya, look at me, nae the water."
Her gaze snapped to his, wild with panic.
"We're goin' tae be fine," Harald said with a certainty he didn't quite feel. "But I need ye tae stay low and hold on. Can ye dae that?"
She nodded, pressing herself down into the bottom of the boat. Harald turned his full attention to the oars, reading the waves, timing his strokes to work with the current instead of against it.
The storm fought him. The sea wanted that boat, wanted tae dash it against the rocks.
But Harald had been navigating those waters since he was a boy, and he'd be damned if he'd let them take Enya.
He rowed with every ounce of strength he had, ignoring the burn in his shoulders, the ache in his wounded arm. Slowly, impossibly slowly, the shore drew closer.
When the boat finally scraped against sand, Harald was out before it had fully beached, hauling it up beyond the tide line with Enya still inside. Only then did he reach for her.
She was shaking. Soaked through and trembling like a leaf, her lips pale, her eyes huge.
"Come here." Harald pulled her out of the boat and wrapped her in his arms without thinking. "Ye're safe. I've got ye."
Enya pressed against him, her fingers clutching his wet shirt, her whole body wracked with shivers.
"I thought—" Her voice broke. "I thought we were goin' tae die."
"Nay. Never." Harald held her tighter, feeling the rapid beat of her heart against his chest. "I wouldnae let that happen."
They stood like that for a long moment, the storm raging around them while Harald's cloak—blessedly dry in the waterproof pack he'd brought—settled over Enya's shoulders.
He drew her down to sit on a rock sheltered from the wind, keeping his arm around her until the worst of her shaking stopped.
"I'm sorry," she said finally. "I'm bein' ridiculous."
"Ye're bein' human. There's nae shame in fear, Enya. Only in lettin' it master ye. And ye didnae dae that."
"I barely moved."
"Ye stayed calm enough tae follow instructions. That takes courage." Harald tucked the cloak more securely around her. "Ye're braver than ye ken."
"Nay one's ever called me brave before." Enya's laugh was shaky. "Cursed, aye. But never brave."
"Then they're fools." The words came out more vehemently than Harald intended. "All of them. Every bastard who looked at yer eyes and saw anythin' but what they are."
"And what are they?" Enya's voice was barely audible over the wind.
Harald looked at her.
At the brown eye warm as earth, at the green one bright as new growth. At the way they caught the storm-light and reflected it back in shades no painter could capture.
"Beautiful," he heard himself say. "They're beautiful, Enya."
The moment stretched between them, charged with something that had nothing to do with the storm. Enya's lips parted, her gaze locked on his, and Harald felt the pull of her like gravity.
He could kiss her. Should kiss her, probably—she was to be his wife, and the attraction burning through him was undeniable.
But she'd also lied to him. Was still lying, most likely. And Harald couldn't afford to want someone he couldn't trust.
He pulled back abruptly, standing and putting distance between them.
"The storm's passin'," he said, his voice rougher than intended. "We should head back before it returns."
Confusion flickered across Enya's face, followed by something that looked like hurt. "Right. Of course."
She stood, wrapping his cloak tighter around herself, and didn’t meet his eyes.
Harald cursed himself silently.
He'd done it again, let her in just far enough to feel the warmth, then retreated before she could see how much he wanted her to stay.
But what choice did he have? She still hadn't told him the truth about the forest. Still kept whatever secrets her brother had planted in her heart.
And until she did, Harald couldn't afford to let himself fall.
Even if every instinct he had was screaming that he already was.