Chapter 30
Morning dawned gently on the Laird’s chambers.
The fire had burned down to embers, leaving the room awash in the grey light that filtered through the narrow windows and brushed the stone walls with silver.
Outside, the castle stirred—footsteps in corridors below, a distant call from the courtyard—but here, time seemed to stand still.
Ava woke up in the room she had never intended to return to. Visions of the night before flashed through her mind. Slow touches, gentle kisses, climax after climax. She blushed, thinking about it.
Last night had closed a difficult chapter in their lives. They had started anew in the most beautiful of ways.
Ava laughed at the thought of once calling it a duty. Already, she could not wait to do it again.
She lay still for a long moment, listening. Not for danger, not for tension, but for the steady breathing beside her, deep and unguarded.
Caden slept on his back, one arm curved around her waist as though it had always belonged there. His hair spilled across the pillow, the severity of the Laird nowhere to be found.
Ava studied him with quiet awe.
In sleep, he looked younger. Softer. As though the weight he carried had been set carefully aside for a few precious hours.
She traced the line of his jaw with her eyes, the scar near his temple, the rise and fall of his chest.
Mine, a voice said in her head.
She shifted slightly, and his arm tightened, drawing her closer. His brow furrowed, then smoothed.
“Ye’re awake,” he murmured, his voice rough from sleep.
“Aye,” she whispered. “Did I wake ye?”
“Daenae ken how I could sleep when ye’re there,” he said, his eyes fluttering open.
There was no hesitation in them now. No distance. Just warmth—and a quiet, almost startled happiness, as though he were still convincing himself that this was real.
They did not rush.
The morning unfolded in small, unremarkable ways that felt extraordinary precisely because of their simplicity.
Ava rested her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, while his fingers traced idle patterns along her back. At some point, she laughed softly at something he said, and the sound seemed to surprise them both.
“I’ve missed that,” he admitted.
“What?” she asked.
“Yer laughter,” he replied. “I ken I heard it before. But I didnae hear it often.”
She lifted her head to look at him. “Then listen better.”
“Aye, me Lady,” he said in a mock solemn tone.
She swatted his shoulder, smiling.
They spoke of nothing urgent. Nothing heavy.
Not the clan, nor her uncle, nor the narrow paths duty would inevitably force them to walk again.
Instead, they spoke of Nathan—how he would insist on wearing the paper crown again, how he would no doubt demand a story at breakfast. Of the market, of the grey cat that had quickly become Nathan’s best friend.
Ava spoke of dreams of the future, of hopes for a larger family, and how they would decorate the castle. She spoke of bringing more animals into the castle and having her family over for Christmas.
Caden listened as though these were matters of state. At one point, he brushed her hair back from her face and said quietly, “Stay here with me. Just a little longer.”
Ava nodded. “I daenae intend to go anywhere.”
The light brightened, warming the bed, catching dust motes in its glow. Somewhere below, a door slammed, and a voice called out. Life resumed its course, indifferent to the miracle taking place behind stone walls.
They kissed again—not with urgency, but with ease. The kind of kiss that said, I’m still here.
Later, Ava lay on her side, watching Caden dress slowly, deliberately, as though he was no longer eager to armor himself against the world. He pulled on his shirt, then paused, glancing at her.
“What?” she asked.
“Nothing,” he said. “Just… happy that I get to look at ye like this.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Ye’ll have plenty of chances if ye behave.”
He laughed, the sound rich and unguarded.
When at last they rose from the bed together, the day waited for them—duties, expectations, a world that would not pause simply because two people had found their way back to each other.
But for that morning, for those quiet hours wrapped in firelight’s memory and shared breath, Ava and Caden moved through the chamber as though they had always belonged there. Not as laird and lady, but as husband and wife.
Suddenly, a small voice called through the door, “Da! Ma! Where are ye?”
Caden beamed at Ava. “At last, the boy will have a happy maither and faither who love him and each other.”
“He deserves nothing less,” she agreed.
The door burst open, and Nathan ran inside, with Cat cradled against his chest.
They spent a lazy morning cuddling with the boy and his cat. Mary and Teresa brought them breakfast in bed, knowing smiles on both their faces.
Ava pretended not to notice and scratched Cat under the chin.
“Uh-oh,” she said, eyeing the cat’s belly. It had grown considerably over the past few days not.
Caden bolted upright. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m afraid I have some bad news, me Laird.” She tried to suppress a smile.
Caden looked at her skeptically.
“Cat is going to be a ma. Soon, we’ll have kittens.” Ava smiled.
“Kittens!” Nathan squealed with delight.
He started blabbering about how many there would be, how he would take care of them, and how much fun they would have.
Caden’s face paled, but then he looked at Nathan, not wanting to burst his bubble. “Kittens would be…” He sighed. “Lovely.”
Ava burst out laughing.
Caden narrowed his eyes at her, as if promising retribution. She did not mind.
Later would come, and they would deal with it then.
Later would bring many more nights of passion.
Later, they would be worrying about raising Nathan to lead.
Later, they would figure out how to merge the two clans.
There was always time to worry about later. Ava was happy living in the now.