Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The scream tore through Dunvegan’s sleeping corridors like a blade through silk.
Moyra jerked upright in bed, her throat raw from the sound she hadn’t realized was hers, chest heaving as the nightmare’s claws slowly released their grip.
The dungeon. Always the dungeon—cold stone pressing in, darkness absolute, the scratch of rats in corners she couldn’t see, the certainty that no one was coming, that she’d die there forgotten and alone.
Her hands shook as she pressed them to her face, trying to slow her racing heart. Just a dream. She was safe. She was in Dunvegan, not Norham. In a soft bed with clean linens, not filthy straw crawling with vermin.
But her body didn’t believe it. Her lungs refused to fill properly, as if the dungeon’s stale air still pressed against them.
The door burst open.
“Me lady!” Catriona rushed in, her eyes wide with alarm, hair escaping from beneath her sleeping cap. “I heard—are ye hurt? What’s happened?”
“Naething.” The lie came automatic even as another tremor wracked through her. “I’m fine. Just a—”
“I’ll fetch the laird.” Catriona was already turning, ignoring Moyra’s protest.
“Nay, dinnae—”
But the maid was gone, her footsteps echoing down the corridor at a run.
Moyra’s stomach clenched. Saints, it was mortifying. Waking the entire castle with her screams like some frightened child. And now Euan would come, would see her like that—shaking and sweating and utterly pathetic.
She barely had time to pull herself together before heavy footsteps pounded down the hallway.
The door flew open again, and there stood Euan MacLeod, his dark hair disheveled from sleep, wearing only loose breeches and a shirt he’d clearly thrown on in haste.
His eyes swept over her with intense focus, cataloging every detail in that way she was beginning to recognize—looking for threats, for injuries, for anything that might need his immediate attention.
“Moyra!” He crossed the room in three strides, his limp barely noticeable in his urgency. “What’s wrong? Why are ye screaming?”
“I wasn’t—” She stopped, realizing how foolish the denial sounded when they’d both heard her wake half the castle. “I just had a nightmare. It’s naething.”
“Naething.” His jaw clenched, that muscle jumping beneath his scar. He moved closer to the bed. “Ye screamed loud enough tae wake the dead, and ye’re still shaking. That’s nae naething, lass.”
“I just tumbled in me sleep.” The lie tasted bitter. “Startled meself awake. I’m fine now.”
“Ye’re lying.” He knelt beside the bed, bringing his eyes level with hers. Up close, she could see genuine concern etched into his scarred features, could see the way his hands flexed as if fighting the urge to reach for her. “And ye’re a terrible liar, by the way. What really happened?”
Moyra looked away, heat crawling up her neck. “It daesnae matter. Go back tae bed. I’m sorry I woke ye.”
“I’m nae leaving until ye tell me what’s wrong.” His voice gentled, losing the sharp edge of command. “Please, Moyra. Let me help.”
The kindness in his tone almost undid her completely. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to hold in the tremors that kept threatening to shake her apart. “It’s stupid.”
“If it makes ye scream like that, it’s nae stupid.” He shifted closer, and she felt the warmth radiating from his large frame despite the cool night air. “Talk tae me.”
She closed her eyes, shame burning hot in her chest. But something about the darkness behind her eyelids brought the nightmare surging back—stone walls closing in, air growing thick and stale, the certainty of being forgotten.
Her eyes snapped open.
“The dungeon,” she whispered. “I dream about the dungeon. About being back there, trapped in that cell with nay light, nay air, nay hope of rescue.” Her voice cracked despite her best efforts. “Three months I spent in that place, and I thought—I was so certain—”
“That nay one was coming,” Euan finished quietly.
“Aye.” The admission came out broken. “And in me dreams, ye dinnae come either. I’m still there, still waiting, and I’ll die there alone because me faither daesnae care and nobody else even kens where I am.”
Silence fell, heavy and suffocating as the nightmare itself. Moyra couldn’t bring herself to look at him, couldn’t bear to see pity or disgust or worse—that careful neutral expression people wore when they didn’t know how to respond to someone else’s weakness.
Then Euan’s hand found hers, his scarred fingers wrapping around her trembling ones with gentle strength.
“Ye’re nae in that dungeon anymore,” he said, his voice rough but steady. “Ye’re here, in Dunvegan, where stone walls keep ye safe instead of imprisoned. Where there’s light and air and people who care whether ye live or die.”
“I ken that.” She finally met his gaze, finding nothing but understanding in those grey eyes. “Me mind kens it. But me body—sometimes it forgets. Sometimes I wake up and I cannae breathe because I’m certain the walls are closing in.”
His thumb traced circles on the back of her hand, the touch grounding her in ways words couldn’t. “How often daes this happen?”
“Most nights.” The admission made her want to crawl under the blankets and hide. “Sometimes I can go back tae sleep after.
“Ye’re a woman who survived three months of captivity that would have broken most men twice yer size. Having nightmares about it daesnae make ye weak, Moyra. It makes ye human.” His voice hardened with something that might have been anger, but not at her.
The words settled over her like a balm, easing the shame that had been eating at her since she’d first started having those nightmares. He didn’t think her weak or broken beyond repair.
He thought her human.
“What can I do?” he asked, and the genuine concern in his voice made her chest ache. “Tae help ye. What would make the nightmares less powerful?”
Moyra’s gaze drifted to the window where pre-dawn light was just beginning to touch the sky. She thought of open air and the sound of running water, of space that didn’t press in like a tomb.
“I need tae remember that I can see the night sky if I want tae,” she said quietly. “That there’s nay ceiling above me, nay walls pressing in. That I’m free tae walk outside, tae breathe air that isn’t stale and thick. That I’m nae trapped anymore.”
Understanding flickered across his face. “The garden.”
“What?”
“Me maither’s garden. The one with the stream.” He stood, pulling her gently to her feet with that easy strength that always made her pulse quicken. “Come with me.”
“Euan, it’s barely dawn—”
“Exactly. Which means most of the castle’s still asleep and willnae see their laird wandering the corridors in his nightclothes with a lass in hers.” His hand wrapped around hers, warm and solid and reassuring. “Besides, I’ve a feeling ye’ll nae get back tae sleep otherwise.”
He was right. The nightmare’s claws still dug into her psyche, and the thought of lying back down in that dark chamber made panic flutter in her chest. But the garden… that might help.
Moyra let him lead her through quiet corridors, hyperaware of how small her hand felt in his, how his loose shirt revealed glimpses of scarred skin with each movement, how improper this all was and how little she cared.
When they reached the garden door, he paused. “Wait here a moment.”
Moyra watched him stride back down the corridor, his broad shoulders disappearing around the corner. She heard quiet conversation—Euan’s deep rumble and Catriona’s lighter tones—then he returned alone.
“Come.” He pushed open the door, and cool night air rushed in to greet her.
Moyra didn’t wait for further invitation. She stepped into the garden and immediately tilted her face toward the sky, drinking in the sight of stars still visible in the pre-dawn light. Open space. Fresh air. No walls pressing in.
She could breathe out there.
Behind her, she heard Euan moving around, heard the rustle of fabric. When she finally turned, she found him spreading thick wool blankets on the grass beside the stream, creating a nest of sorts.
“Sit,” he told her, gesturing to the makeshift bed. “Before ye freeze in that thin nightshift.”
Heat that had nothing to do with cold crept up her neck as she realized how little she was wearing—just the nightshift and a robe that did almost nothing to protect her modesty. But Euan’s eyes held only concern as he watched her settle onto the blankets.
When he sat beside her, she immediately shifted closer, seeking his warmth without quite meaning to.
His body heat cut through the cool morning air like a blessing, and she found herself acutely aware of every point where they nearly touched—his shoulder inches from hers, his leg close enough that she could feel the heat radiating through the fabric of his breeches.
“Thank ye,” she said quietly, pulling her knees up and wrapping her arms around them. “Fer this. Fer nae making me feel foolish about the nightmares.”
“Why would that make ye foolish?” He kept his gaze fixed on the stream, but she saw the tension in his jaw. “Everyone has demons, Moyra. Yers just happen tae be more literal than most.”
The acceptance in his voice loosened something in her chest. She watched the water rush past, eternal and soothing, and felt some of the nightmare’s grip finally release.
“Has me faither continued sending letters?” The question slipped out before she could stop it.
Euan’s jaw clenched harder. “Dinnae worry about that.”
“That’s nae an answer.”
“It’s the only answer ye’re getting taenight.” He finally looked at her, and the protectiveness blazing in those grey eyes made her breath catch. “Ye dinnae need that burden right now.”
“Because I’m too fragile tae handle it?” Edge crept into her voice despite her best efforts. She was tired of being treated like glass, tired of people making decisions for her supposed benefit. “Too broken by me time in the dungeon tae deal with me own faither’s schemes?”
“Because ye’ve had a terrible night and deserve a few hours of peace before dealing with more of Keith MacKenzie’s cruelty.” His tone stayed level, but she heard the frustration beneath it. “That’s nae about weakness, lass. That’s about me trying tae give ye what little comfort I can.”
The fight drained out of her as quickly as it had risen. “I’m sorry. I just—I hate feeling useless. Like all I dae is cause problems while everyone else deals with the consequences.”
“Ye’re nae useless.” The words came out rough, almost fierce. “And the problems aren’t yers. They’re yer faither’s, and he’ll answer fer them eventually.”
“The Council must hate me,” she said quietly.
“The Council will accept what I tell them tae accept. And I’ve made me position very clear.”
He settled back against the blankets, deliberately putting space between them.
The distance felt like a reminder of all the reasons they shouldn’t have been there together in the pre-dawn light.
“Now stop worrying about things that aren’t yer concern and try tae rest. Dawn’s coming, but we’ve got a few hours before the castle truly wakes. ”
Moyra studied him for a long moment, taking in the strong lines of his profile, the way the growing light caught in his dark hair, the tension in his shoulders that spoke of burdens he carried alone. He’d given her so much—rescue, safety, understanding when she’d expected judgment.
And he’d asked for nothing in return except that she trust him.
She lay down on the blankets, curling onto her side. The grass was soft beneath the wool, and the sound of the stream rushing past soothed something in her battered soul. But she didn’t feel quite safe yet. Didn’t feel like the nightmare had truly released its grip.
“Will ye stay?” The question came out softer than she’d intended, almost tentative. “Just until I fall asleep?”
“Aye.” His voice rumbled through the quiet garden, rough with something she couldn’t quite name. “I’ll stay.”
The promise settled over her like a warm and secure blanket.
Moyra let her eyes drift closed, listening to the eternal rush of water and the steady rhythm of Euan’s breathing behind her.
The nightmare’s claws finally loosened their grip, replaced by the certainty that she was safe—not locked in darkness but lying under open sky with a man who’d promised to protect her.
A man who’d kept every promise so far.
She slept, falling into darkness that held no terror because she could hear the stream, could feel fresh air on her face, could sense Euan’s solid presence keeping watch over her.