Chapter 24
Daisy was the first to voice it.
“I’m starvin’,” she said dramatically, patting her stomach as her pony clip-clopped into the courtyard.
“We’ll fix that,” Rhys promised, sliding from his saddle.
The stablehands moved quickly, taking reins from all three. Daisy barely waited for her feet to hit the ground before racing toward the door. Her nurse met her there with open arms, ushering her inside with a warm scolding about dusty skirts and red cheeks.
Amara hesitated beside him, brushing hay from her sleeve.
“I think I’ll go lie down a while,” she said softly.
He looked at her. Her braid had come loose again, and her cheeks were still flushed from the ride. “Let me walk ye.”
“Ye daenae need to —”
“I want to.”
She nodded once.
They walked in silence, their shoulders brushing now and again. The stairs stretched longer than usual, or maybe that was just in her head. She didn’t want the walk to end, and judging by the way he kept glancing sideways, neither did he.
They didn’t need to speak. Every glance and every accidental touch, threatened to break her open. They hadn’t even made it halfway to the library when the ambush struck.
A blur of dark green and copper spun out from behind a pillar. “Och! Here they are!”
William’s voice rang out like a trumpet.
Amara froze mid-step as Finn popped up beside him, one arm raised dramatically. “Caught ye!”
Rhys sighed behind her. “Ye’ve too much time on yer hands.”
Myles joined in last, slouching against the wall as if he’d been lounging there for hours. “Aye, and I told them it wasnae fair. Two on one, all before the noon hour.”
“We were just going to look at the maps again,” Amara offered an easy lie that Rhys silently obliged.
“Aye, sure,” Finn muttered with a grin, slapping Rhys on the shoulder. “Come eat. Cookie’s cooked enough to feed half the bloody army. If I eat alone again, I’ll start thinkin’ he’s tryin’ to fatten me for slaughter.”
“We daenae need —”
“We’d love to,” Amara cut in quickly, throwing Rhys a glance. His brow twitched, but he didn’t argue.
The dining hall had never felt quite so full. Laughter bounced from the walls, the hearth crackled merrily, and platters of oatcakes, meats, and berry preserves filled the long table.
Mabel greeted her like a sister, arms open wide. “Sit with me. I need a sensible woman near me before Finn starts telling stories again. Plus, I’ve got cards!”
Nina patted the space beside her. “Ye can have me cushion, I’m just about to get up, me lady. It’s warmed for ye,” she said and slid over to the end of the bench.
“One more hand!” Mabel demanded, and Nina obliged kindly.
Amara smiled, grateful, and took her place. On her other side, Mabel poured her a cup of strong tea with a knowing wink.
Conversation flowed easily between them as Mabel dealt a hand. Amara felt Rhys’s eyes on her as he sat with the others farther down the table. Myles was already two cups in and teasing the cook, while William made jokes under his breath and Finn looked like he’d been born at the table.
Amara let herself sink into the rhythm of comfort and community. For a moment, she forgot where she came from.
“I’ll leave ye all to it,” Nina eventually said, pushing her chair back.
“Och! Before ye go, Nina,” Mabel said, tilting her head toward Amara. “Ye havenae told us yet. Have ye decided?”
Nina paused, eyes sliding back to Amara.
Amara’s cheeks flushed. “I… aye but also nay… I’m still torn.”
Nina’s smile lit like dawn. “Ye’re stayin’. Ye must.”
“I —” she started to say, but the women let out soft cheers, and Mabel leaned over to squeeze her hand. “Ye’re brave, lass, for even considering either option.”
“What else can I do?”
Nina looked to be in near tears, but clapped her hands happily. “Well, I’m thrilled if ye’re to become one of us! Thrilled! Ye’ll have to tell me straight away when ye do decide so I can get your wardrobe settled.”
She left with a wink, and the table slowly returned to its chatter.
But Mabel wasn’t finished.
“If ye’ve chosen to stay, I think that’s wonderful,” she said, her voice quiet and sure. “But… are ye sure ye daenae want to see him?”
Amara’s hand froze over her tea.
“Me faither?”
“Aye.”
The hum of the room dimmed as her heartbeat quickened.
“I’m nae sure what I’d say to him… or what he’d do if I showed up.”
“That’s nae what I asked,” Mabel replied gently. “I asked if ye wanted to see him.”
Amara looked down at the steam curling in her cup. “He gave me away like I was nothin’. Less than. And he made me believe it.”
Mabel didn’t interrupt.
“But now,” Amara continued, voice lower, “I’m starting to believe I’m nae nothin’. And maybe I need to face him. To ken it and close that chapter once and for all.”
Mabel nodded slowly. “That sounds like someone finding her own truth.”
“I’m afraid.”
“Good. That means it matters.”
They sat in silence for a while, just long enough for the laughter and warmth of the room to wrap around her like a shawl.
Amara turned and smiled. “Thank ye.”
Mabel squeezed her hand again. “Whatever ye choose, ye’ll nae do it alone,” she said, and her eyes slid over Amara’s shoulders to what she could only guess what Rhys’s gaze.
After the meal, Amara excused herself with soft apologies and stood. Rhys immediately pushed his chair back.
“I’ll escort ye,” he said it loud enough that William looked up, fork halfway to his mouth.
Amara hesitated. “That’s —”
“Insistence. Nay argument needed, lass,” he said, gesturing for her to lead the way.
Mabel lifted her brows at her with a smirk. Finn nudged William. Even Myles gave a low whistle.
But Rhys didn’t care. He was looking at her like she was the only thing in the room worth watching.
And Amara found that she also didn’t care.
The corridor outside the great hall was quieter than it should’ve been and her mind went wild with the decision she was going to have to tell him.
I want to stay, but can I? Should I?
Their footsteps echoed against the stone, in sync and steady, but too careful.
What about me faither?
She should have said something. Should have told him what she’s wrestling with.
What about Rhys?
And the truth sat on the edge of her tongue like a stone. What about me?
Amara took a shaky breath. The realization of finally asking herself the right question made her decision all too clear.
“Rhys… I’ve made me decision.” Her voice came out firm and with a confidence that she hadn’t known was in her.
He stopped, and she turned to face him fully. She didn’t realize her back was already against her door.
“I was goin' to wait,” she added. “But it dinnae feel right.”
His throat bobbed, and his gaze flicked to her lips. “Daenae.”
She looked like sin wrapped in silk. Her day dress hugging the curve of her waist, cheeks still pink from the firelight and laughter. The afternoon sun through the windows gilded her hair in gold.
He wanted her.
But more than that, he wanted to understand her.
He watched as her fingers brushing the latch.
“Rhys…”
He looked at her, heartbeat thrumming like a drum in his throat.
Her fingers wrapping around the iron made his shoulders feel suddenly taught, and he stretched his neck from either side to release the tension in the heavy silence between them.
“I want…”
“Amara, daenae —”
“Rhys, I need to tell ye.”
“Amara,” he said, taking a warning step toward her.
He couldn’t hear it.
“I want to stay —”
He couldn’t bear to hear the inevitable rest.
His restraint snapped and he leaned in and kissed her.
Not with gentleness, but with an animal-like hunger. Like a drowning man. With every ounce of fear and desire and fury that had lived in him since the moment she ran into his life.
She gasped as he pushed her back against the door, his mouth greedy and wild. Her free hand tangled in his shirt, yanking him closer.
He wrapped his hands around hers and lifted the latch, shoved the door open, and they stumbled through it, still wrapped around each other.
Her back hit the wall just inside and she moaned against his lips as he kissed down her throat.
“Christ, Amara, I need ye,” he growled. “Need to touch ye again. Taste ye.”
She shivered. “I need ye, Rhys.”
His hands were everywhere. Tugging at her skirts, slipping beneath to find bare, smooth skin. She was already wet for him. He groaned and dropped to his knees.
He spread her thighs, baring her to the candlelight and his hunger.
She clutched the edge of the table, head falling back.
“Rhys —”
“Let me,” he murmured against her skin. “Let me worship ye.”
He buried his face between her legs, tongue sliding slow and sure through her molten core. She whimpered, legs trembling, one hand in his hair, the other braced behind her on the wood.
He devoured her.
With every cry she made, he grew harder. With every buck of her hips, he lost more control. She came apart fast, crying out, body shuddering against his mouth as he coaxed her through the wave.
Her pleasure wrecked him.
He stood and lifted her in his arms. She clung to him, wrapping her legs around his waist, breath ragged, eyes wide with want.
“I need ye,” she whispered, voice cracking. “I need ye now.”
Rhys laid her on the bed and undressed her quickly but reverently, his hands not frantic but efficient. He stripped himself bare, never breaking eye contact. She reached for him, and he came to her like a man possessed.
He slid inside her with a guttural moan.
Her body was so tight, gripping him even tighter with each thrust. The sensation was almost unbearable.
“Ye are mine.” He said through gritted teeth, his furious pace relentless and so deep inside of her.
“Yers.” Amara said, barely above a whisper, and then her jaw went slack as if she meant to scream but the sound was muted.
Their bodies moved together like they were made to. Building faster with every thrust. He kissed her face, her neck, her shoulders, murmuring her name like a prayer.
Her legs wrapped around him, pulling him deeper.
“I cannae…” she gasped.
“Let go, love,” he whispered against her mouth. “I’ve got ye.”
She came with a cry, her whole body arching, eyes wide and wild as he watched her fall apart beneath him.
That look. Raw, unguarded, and undone sent him right over the edge.
He poured himself into her with a broken sound, forehead pressed to hers, heart hammering like it might rip through his chest.
After, he lay beside her, arm wrapped tight around her waist, her head resting against his chest.
No words passed between them, but both were still breathing as if they’d stolen the air from each other’s lungs.
She shifted in his arms like a sigh, the softness of her thigh still draped over his. The fire slowly fell to embers, but the heat between them lingered, sealed into the sheets and the air and the throb in his chest.
He stared up at the dark ceiling, one hand resting on the curve of her spine.
It should have been perfect.
She’d chosen to stay. At least, he thought she had. That’s what she’d started to say. That’s what she’d whispered before he kissed her like a man undone.
And he had undone.
Everything.
Now, she stirred, pulling the blanket to her chest, and sat up slowly, her fingers trailing across the flat of his stomach as she moved.
“We should —” she began softly.
“Aye,” he said before she could finish. He sat up too, rubbing a hand down his face, then reached to the side for his shirt.
They dressed in a haze of candlelight and quiet. Early evening tracking through the curtains.
Rhys caught the glint of her profile in the looking glass as she stood near the hearth, fixing the laces at her collar.
That silence he’d welcomed on the trail and at the loch wasn’t welcome now.
It was heavy.
And it was his fault.
He could feel it brewing between them, the unspoken thing. He should have let her say it.
Rhys cleared his throat and leaned his shoulder against the stone wall. “I should’ve let ye finish what ye were going to say, lass.”
She paused, her fingers stilling in her hair.
“Ye werenae done… were ye?”
She turned toward him slowly. Her lips parted, eyes round, and then she gave him the smallest, almost apologetic grimace.
“Nay,” she said. “I wasnae.”
Rhys’s heart dropped in his chest.
He looked down, jaw clenched. “Ye’re goin’ back.”
A statement. But it came out like a question.
There was a beat of silence, and then, Amara replied quietly. “Aye.”
One word. Gentle. Honest.
Like it had taken her whole body to say it.
Rhys forced himself to nod.
Before she could speak again, he reached for his coat and stepped toward the door.
She took his arm without hesitation.
And that hurt more than it should have.
The trust.
He’d just claimed her, and she’s still going to leave. She was his.
Mine.
But she’d chosen to leave.
What does this mean now?
…I’ll just stay with her as long as I can…
He didn’t know what she would have said next, and again he didn’t let her say it.
“I’ll escort ye,” he said, his voice low. “If ye wish it.”
Amara blinked. Startled, maybe, but her expression softened into something that might’ve been relief. Or maybe just gratitude. “Aye,” she said. “I’d like that.”
The corridors of the keep were quiet at that hour. Just before supper. Everyone busy with various tasks before the last meal of the day.
Rhys walked beside her, slower than usual.
The silence this time wasn’t taut. It was stretched too thin. Fragile.
He didn’t know what to say. Not really. He’d never been good at begging, and worse still at letting go.
She was going back.
Of course she was.
He’d brought her here in chains. Fed her with suspicion. Looked at her with accusation more often than kindness.
It was only right that she would want to face the man who had cast her aside. To finish what had been left undone. To look him in the eyes and find out for herself what her heart wanted. Is that what she wants? Is that why she wants to go back? Will she come back to me afterwards?
Rhys just hadn’t expected her heart to want something he couldn’t give.
They reached the base of the stairs.
Amara turned toward him, her eyes searching his face.
“We’ll only be gone for a few days,” she said.
Rhys nodded. He didn’t trust himself to speak.
He forced a small smile instead and reached for her hand. He brought it to his lips and kissed her knuckles reverently, lingering like it might be the last time.
She didn’t pull away, but that didn’t mean it was a promise to stay, either, or come back.
And that was the thing that gutted him.
Because she’d already taken his heart with her. And he’d let her.
He just didn’t know if she’d bring it back.