Chapter 37
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
The library fire had burned down to embers by the time Moyra found him.
Euan sat hunched over the oak table, maps spread across every available surface, shadows carving harsh lines into his scarred face.
Three candles guttered in their holders, wax pooling onto the wood.
His shoulders carried the weight of six hundred approaching warriors, and from the rigid set of his spine, he’d been sitting there for hours.
Moyra paused in the doorway, studying him.
Dark hair falling across his forehead. Jaw clenched tight enough to ache.
One scarred hand braced against the table while the other traced invasion routes with precision.
He looked exhausted. Magnificent. Utterly incapable of stopping long enough to breathe.
Her husband, the brooding hedgehog.
“Ye’re going tae go blind staring at those maps in candlelight,” she said quietly.
His head snapped up, grey eyes finding hers in the dimness. “Moyra. What are ye—it’s past midnight. Ye should be sleeping.”
“So should ye.” She crossed to him, the worn book she’d discovered in the castle’s depths tucked under her arm. “But apparently neither of us follows sensible advice.”
“I’m working.” He gestured at the scattered papers. “The western approach needs reinforcement, and if Keith splits his forces here and here—”
“Keith can wait until morning.” She settled into the chair beside him, close enough that their shoulders nearly touched. “Right now, ye’re going tae stop strategizing and listen tae me read.”
His eyebrows climbed. “Read?”
“Aye. Read.” She opened the book, its leather binding soft with age. “I found this in the archives earlier. Highland legends—the old tales about clever heroines and impossible quests. The kind of stories yer maither probably read tae ye when ye were a lad.”
“Moyra, I appreciate the thought, but I really need tae—”
“Hush.” She found her place, ignoring his protest. “Ye’ve been staring at invasion routes fer hours.
Yer eyes are bloodshot, yer shoulders are tense enough tae shatter, and if I’m nae mistaken, ye’ve forgotten tae eat again.
” She leveled him with a look. “So ye’re going tae sit there, rest yer brain fer ten minutes, and let me read tae ye. Understood?”
For a moment, she thought he might argue. His jaw worked, that stubborn pride warring against obvious exhaustion. Then slowly—reluctantly—he leaned back in his chair.
“Ten minutes,” he conceded. “Then I need tae finish—”
“Aye, aye. Ten minutes.” Though she had absolutely no intention of stopping after ten.
She began reading, her voice soft in the library’s quiet.
The tale was familiar—a Highland lass who outwitted a selkie king, claiming her freedom through cleverness rather than force.
Moyra had always loved those stories as a child, back when her mother still lived and the world seemed full of possibility rather than threat.
Beside her, Euan remained rigid for perhaps two pages. Then gradually his shoulders began to relax. The tension drained from his jaw. His breathing deepened, evening out into something that almost resembled peace.
“The selkie king sounds like an idiot,” he observed when she paused to turn the page. “Any man who makes a bargain without reading the terms deserves whatever he gets.”
“He was arrogant.” Moyra smiled. “Assumed a mortal woman couldnae possibly outwit him.”
“Fatal mistake.” Euan shifted, angling himself to see the book better. “What happens next?”
“Patience.” She continued reading, watching him from the corner of her eye.
His expression had softened—the harsh lines smoothing. When she reached the part where the heroine tricked the selkie into releasing her sisters, Euan actually smiled. Not the grim curve she’d grown accustomed to, but the genuine and warm smile that made her chest ache.
“Clever,” he murmured. “Using his own pride against him.”
“The best heroines always are.” She turned another page. “Strength isnae always about swords and battles. Sometimes it’s about knowing when tae fight and when tae think.”
“Is that why ye married me? Clever strategy rather than affection?”
Moyra’s hands stilled on the book. She looked at him properly—really looked—and saw vulnerability beneath the casual tone. He genuinely wanted to know. Genuinely worried that everything between them was just tactical maneuvering.
“I married ye because I wanted tae,” she said simply.
“The strategy was convenient, aye. But if I hadnae wanted ye—if I hadnae felt something real between us—I’d have found another way.
” She touched his face tenderly. “Ye’re nae just a strategic alliance, Euan MacLeod.
Ye’re me husband. There’s a difference.”
His hand covered hers, pressing it against his face. “Good. Because I’m fairly certain I’m in love with ye, and it would be damn inconvenient if the feeling wasnae mutual.”
The casual admission stole her breath. Not a grand declaration or dramatic confession—just simple truth spoken in a firelit library while she held a book of fairy tales and he looked at her like she was the cleverest heroine in any legend.
“Fairly certain?” She managed to keep her voice steady despite how her heart hammered. “That’s quite the romantic declaration, husband.”
“I’m nae good at romantic declarations.” His mouth quirked.
“But I’m excellent at truth. And the truth is ye’ve gotten under me skin in ways I never expected.
Every note ye leave, every sketch of hedgehogs, every moment ye make me stop brooding long enough tae breathe—it makes me realize I dinnae just want ye safe.
I want ye happy. I want ye laughing. I want—” He paused.
“I want ye tae stay. Even after this war is over, even when there’s nay strategic reason tae bind us together.
I want ye tae choose tae stay because ye want tae, nae because ye have tae. ”
“Euan—”
“Ye dinnae have tae say anything.” He released her hand, turning back toward the maps as if he could hide behind military strategy.
“I just needed ye tae ken. Before Keith’s forces arrive.
Before everything becomes complicated again.
I needed ye tae ken that this—us—it’s real fer me. Whatever happens next.”
Moyra set the book aside carefully. Then she caught his face, turning him back toward her with gentle insistence.
“Ye’re an idiot,” she said, but warmth colored the words.
“I’m already in love with ye. Have been since ye carried me from the garden after me nightmare and didnae once make me feel weak fer needing comfort.
” She kissed him softly. “So aye, I’m staying.
Nae because strategy demands it, but because I cannae imagine me life without yer brooding presence and notes. ”
His laugh came rough, almost disbelieving. “Ye’re sure? Because once Keith’s defeated, once the threat is gone—”
“I’ll still be here.” She kissed him again, deeper this time.
“Being irritated by yer stubbornness and charmed by yer rare smiles and absolutely certain I made the right choice.” She pulled back just enough to meet his eyes.
“I love ye, Euan MacLeod. War or peace, strategy or sentiment—that’s nae changing. ”
He pulled her into his lap with sudden urgency, the maps scattering as his mouth found hers. The kiss was desperate and claiming and full of emotions neither of them had quite dared voice until now. When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, his forehead rested against hers.
“Read more,” he said roughly. “About the clever heroine. I want tae hear how the story ends.”
So she did, settled in his lap with his arms around her waist, reading fairy tales in a firelit library while the castle slept and war approached.
Her voice wove through the quiet, telling tales of heroines who won through wit rather than force, of impossible quests completed through determination and love.
And occasionally—between chapters, during quiet moments—Euan would interject observations that made her laugh or ask questions that showed he was paying attention to every word.
His comments grew more relaxed as the hour stretched, his grip on her waist loosening from desperate hold to comfortable embrace.
“That’s terrible logic,” he observed when the heroine made a particularly risky bargain. “She’s going tae regret that.”
“Have some faith.” Moyra turned the page. “The clever ones always find a way out.”
“Like ye?” His lips brushed her temple. “Finding a way out of yer faither’s schemes?”
“Like us,” she corrected. “Finding a way through whatever hell is coming.”
She continued reading, her voice soft and steady, while Euan held her close and the library fire burned low and for just that moment, the world beyond those walls ceased to exist.