Chapter 23
Rhys stepped into the courtyard just as the ponies were being led out by a stable lad, their coats brushed to a shine and saddles freshly tightened.
Daisy was already bouncing in place, one foot in the stirrup, her face alight. “Papa! Papa, I did it meself this time almost!”
Rhys chuckled, striding toward her. “Aye? Shall I alert the council that a new stablemaster’s been found?”
She beamed and grabbed his hand, tugging him toward her saddle. He helped steady her as she climbed up, though he knew very well that she barely needed the help anymore.
Amara stood beside the second mare, her gloved hand stroking the creature’s neck gently.
She looked up at him, and for a moment, the whole bloody courtyard stilled.
“Good afternoon,” she said, a soft tease in her tone.
He smirked. “How are ye?”
“Well rested… though I cannae say that ye look like ye could say the same.” Her eyes raked over him, and he grinned as he wiped the sweat from his brow and shrugged.
“Had to show the lads a few things this mornin’. Nothin’ too strenuous. I slept like a babe.”
Rhys stepped closer, eyeing her cloak and the braid over her shoulder. “Ye look ready to ride.”
She tilted her chin. “I was promised a view.”
“Aye,” he murmured, his voice dipping low. “Let’s see if I can still give ye one worth rememberin’.”
She flushed just enough to satisfy him.
Then with Daisy already trotting ahead and the stable lad stepping back with a bow, Rhys swung into his saddle and nudged his horse forward right beside hers.
“Off we go, then.”
The wind tugged at Daisy’s curls as she urged her pony into a gallop, and the horse started kicking up little puffs of dirt in the narrow trail.
“Steady!” Rhys called, but his daughter just whooped louder and urged the beast faster.
Amara laughed, her own mare trotting alongside his with far more grace. “She’s wild.”
“She’s yers,” Rhys said without thinking, then corrected, “Mine. But aye. Same thing.”
Amara arched a brow but said nothing.
They followed Daisy toward the ridge overlooking the valley, the late afternoon sun slanting across the heather-dotted hills. The scent of gorse and distant smoke filled the air.
It was a good day.
Too good.
Rhys watched Amara from the corner of his eye. Her cloak billowed behind her, the braid at her back bouncing as she rode. She looked more at home on that horse than most of the men he trained. Her confident, quiet, focused look was strikingly beautiful.
So damned beautiful… He could hardly stand it.
She reached out suddenly and caught a low-hanging branch, breaking off a sprig of leaves and sniffing them.
“Thyme,” she said, offering it to him with a smile. “I used to pick this for stew back home.”
Rhys took it, fingers brushing hers. “Ye’ll have to teach Cookie. Might save me from another round of his turnip disaster.”
She laughed. The sound of it traveled down his spine like lightning.
“I dinnae think it was that bad!”
“Och, that’s nae the turnip disaster. He hasnae served it since the first time. I forbade it.”
“I daenae think thyme will save it, then,” Amara said playfully.
“Anything, at this point, would.” Rhys grinned and met her smile.
She was looking at him like… like… What is on her mind?
Deciding not to ask, he turned to spot Daisy, who was well ahead of them.
They rode in companionable silence for a while, following Daisy’s trail down into a small grove where the trees thinned out and the grass grew high.
The sound of the loch beyond whispered on the breeze, hidden just past the bend.
And still… it loomed.
Two more days.
Just two.
That was all the time left in the week she’d asked for. A week to decide whether she’d stay or go. A week that had passed too quickly and too sweetly.
He didn’t want her to go.
But he wouldn’t ask her to stay, either. Not unless she chose it for herself. Not unless she saw this place, his place and him, as something worth staying for.
That was the price of freedom.
That was what he owed her.
Without swaying her decision any more than he might have already had after that night they spent together. He swore not to touch her again to help make the decision easier, but he couldn’t help but question whether or not if it was backfiring.
Should I kiss her? Does she want that? Should I tell her I want her to stay?
Questions coursed through his mind over and over even as they dismounted near the water and let the ponies graze in the grass.
Daisy flopped down beside the loch and started gathering rocks, already muttering to herself about skipping stones and counting splashes.
Amara stayed standing, her gaze fixed on the water. The breeze caught the hem of her cloak and teased her hair loose from the braid.
“She loves it here,” Amara said quietly. “I think she’d sleep in the stables if ye let her.”
“She’s done it,” Rhys said. “More than once.”
They watched Daisy in silence.
Then Amara turned to him.
“Ye’ve given her a good life.”
Rhys shook his head. “I’ve done me best. But she deserves more. A maither. A home that doesnae feel so unstable.”
“This place is more than that,” Amara said. “I dinnae see it at first, but it’s full of loyalty… to ye. And kindness.”
He looked at her. “And what about ye?”
She opened her mouth and closed it again. Her tongue flicked across her lip with uncertainty.
“Ye’ve…”
Rhys swallowed.
“I… I’ve enjoyed me time here, Rhys,” she finally said, quieter than he expected. “I really have.”
But?
Being near her… it was like the ground would tilt out from under him if he made one wrong choice. Like she could unravel every thread he’d spent his life knotting tight for the sake of the clan, and Daisy, and his own sanity.
He reached for her hand without thinking. Held it between both of his.
“I want ye to ken,” he said, voice rough, “whatever ye choose… I’ll respect it.”
She blinked, eyes flicking over his face.
“I just… I daenae ken how I’ll let ye go if that’s what ye choose.”
The wind carried a silence between them. Daisy’s laughter echoed faintly behind.
Amara stepped closer, her fingers curling into his tunic.
“Rhys —”
“Nay,” he said quickly, pulling back slightly. “If this is about that, ye daenae have to say it. Nae yet.”
“I want to,” she whispered.
His heart beat like a war drum in his chest.
But before she could speak again, a rustle sounded behind them. Daisy popped up with a rock in each hand.
“Papa! Watch me throw this one. Can ye see? It’s massive!”
Rhys grinned, swallowing down every word and every ache.
“I’m watchin’, mo chridhe.”
And he was.
But he also couldn’t stop watching the woman beside him, and wondering if she might be the one to save them both.
“Lady Amara! Will ye come and help me?” young Daisy hollered over her shoulder.
A startled laugh slipped from Amara’s lips before she could stop it. “Help ye with what, exactly?” she called back, stepping lightly over the damp grass.
The child stood in the middle of the orchard, her small arms wrapped around the widest, lumpiest apple she could find. It looked like it weighed half as much as she did.
“This beast of a thing’s too heavy for me throwin’ arm,” Daisy grunted, chin tucked down in determination. “Papa said I’ve got to build strength if I want to toss one far.”
“And ye picked the largest apple on the tree?”
“Aye. He said ‘train hard’. This is trainin’.”
Amara crouched beside her with a grin. “That looks more like a challenge than a snack.”
“I already ate two,” Daisy admitted sheepishly, brushing her sticky fingers on her skirt.
“Well then,” Amara said, brushing hair from Daisy’s cheek, “let’s give yer arm a break and let me help with the launching.”
Together, they hurled the apple as far as they could into the tall grasses at the edge of the orchard. It bounced and rolled and was almost immediately lost to the wild.
Daisy whooped. “We nearly made it past the wall!”
Amara laughed again, fuller this time. “We’ll say we did.”
The morning sun warmed the back of her neck. The castle loomed distantly behind them, but it felt far away in the best way.
They wandered through the orchard a bit longer, chasing shadows and apples and bits of wind. Eventually, Daisy tugged on Amara’s sleeve.
“Will ye braid me hair like ye did the other day?” she asked.
“Of course.”
They sat beneath the low branches of a gnarled tree, its leaves whispering overhead. Amara gently combed her fingers through Daisy’s thick curls, working slowly to separate the strands.
“Me maither used to sing when she brushed me hair. Nae that I remember. Me da told me about her, ye ken,” Daisy murmured after a while, voice quiet.
Amara’s hands stilled for half a breath. “Aye?”
“Aye,” she said, eyes far off. “Nae like a bairn’s song. Just wee hums. ‘Like she was tellin’ a story without words’ is what me da said.”
Amara swallowed. “She sounds lovely.”
“I think she was.” Daisy twisted to glance up at her. “Ye kind of hum, too. Even when ye daenae mean to. When ye brush or sew. Or look out the window.”
Amara blinked down at her. “Do I?”
Daisy nodded. “It’s nice. It makes me feel like I’m safe.”
That struck Amara like a stone straight to the ribs.
Safe.
That simple, sacred word.
She felt Daisy shift against her lap, small and warm, and she resumed the braid with gentle fingers.
“Ye remind me of who I think me maither was sometimes,” Daisy said after a while, almost like she didn’t mean to. “But only a little. Ye laugh more than she did, I think. And yer voice is different. But it’s the way ye touch things. Like they matter.”
The ache that had been curling slowly in Amara’s chest unfurled into something sharper.
“I’m glad,” Amara whispered. “That I remind ye of someone who loved ye so dearly.”
“I love ye too.”
The words were spoken so simply, so naturally, that it took a few seconds for them to land.
Amara’s hands stopped. Her breath caught. “Daisy…”
The girl tilted her head back, upside down from Amara’s lap, a grin on her face. “Daenae cry, Lady Amara. Ye’ll ruin me braid.”
Amara let out a watery chuckle and wiped her cheeks. “Bossy wee thing.”
“Papa says I’m a menace.”
“Well, I’ll tell him he’s wrong.”
They sat like that for a long time.
When the braid was done, Daisy took Amara’s hand and led her back toward the loch edge, behind a tall patch of lavender.
“Ye ken,” Daisy said, kicking her heels gently, “if ye do go away… will ye come back?”
Amara felt her heart squeeze. “Oh, lass…”
“It’s just… if ye daenae want to be me ma, that’s all right. But I’d like it if ye stayed anyway. Papa’s better when ye’re here.”
That broke something wide open inside her.
She looked away, blinking hard. “I do want to stay. I want to stay more than I can say.”
“Then do.”
“It’s nae always that simple.”
“But maybe it is.”
Amara turned to Daisy, studying the soft roundness of her cheeks, the determined lift of her chin. This child, who had no reason to trust her, who had lived through her own losses, was asking her to be brave.
And Amara had never wanted to rise to anything more in her life.
She pulled Daisy into a hug, cradling her tightly. “I’ll try, sweet lass. I’ll try with all I have.”
From a distance, a bell rang. The afternoon chime.
Daisy popped up.
She took off through the grass before Amara could gather her breath back up to Rhys, who was still waiting up on the ledge. Watching them.