Chapter 26
It was her voice that pierced the madness. It was her voice that found him and brought him back.
His shoulders heaved once, sharply, like a man dragged from drowning. The dagger in his hand trembled not with weakness, but with the terrible force of everything he fought inside himself.
“Baird,” she said again, more softly now. “Look at me.”
He did, with eyes that still burned like embers cooling under ash. Davina swallowed, stepping closer though her own legs trembled. She knew every eye in the hall was on them. She knew that Baird’s pride, his control, his very identity were hanging by a thread.
But she also knew, perhaps for the first time, that he needed someone to steady him, to anchor him, to remind him who he was beneath all the rage and pain.
“Yer people are here,” she whispered. “Watching, depending on ye. They need tae see their laird show restraint… and good judgment.”
She held his gaze.
“This man will answer fer what he’s done,” Davina continued, feeling her voice gain strength. “He will. But ye must dae this the right way, Baird. Throw him in the dungeon, fer now. Let justice come when yer head is clear, nae when yer blood is high.”
He didn’t say anything, but his grip on the dagger loosened. Davina dared one more step. She could feel his pain thrumming through the air between them.
“Show them the laird ye truly are,” she murmured. “Nae the man he,” she cast a cold glance at Filib, “tried tae make ye become.”
Finally, something broke behind Baird’s dark eyes. And then, he released the dagger entirely. Kenny seized the moment, yanking it fully from Baird’s grasp.
“Guards!” Kenny barked. “Take Filib tae the dungeon.”
The room erupted into movement of armored footsteps, of Filib screaming as men dragged him away, of councilmen whispering in shaken clusters and servants ducking their heads as if afraid the walls themselves might collapse.
But Davina saw none of it. She watched only Baird. His hands curled and uncurled as if unsure what to do now that the blade was no longer in them. Then, he lifted a hand to his temple, as though the very weight of the hall pressed against him.
“Enough,” he muttered. “I… I need air.”
Before anyone could speak, he shoved past Kenny, past his Council, past everyone, pushing through the doors and out into the courtyard with heavy, unsteady steps.
Davina watched him go, with her heart twisting. She knew that flight. She knew that desperate need to escape the eyes of others, the voices, the judgment. But she also knew just as surely that he should not be left alone.
She drew in a trembling breath. Then she gathered her skirts and followed him out into the night. The courtyard was cold, but she pushed through the wind. She refused to be stopped, as she rushed toward the old well, where Baird was standing, with his back to her.
“Baird,” she said softly.
He didn’t turn. His hands were braced on the stone rim of the well, as if he needed something solid to keep himself upright.
“Davina… ye should go inside,” he rasped. “I… I dinnae want ye tae see me like this.”
“I’m nae going anywhere.”
All she could hear was the silence and the wind.
“It was all true,” he suddenly said. “Every damned word Filib spat.”
Davina stepped closer, careful not to startle him. “Baird…”
“He loved me maither,” Baird continued. “He loved her enough tae kill me braither. He loved her enough tae poison the clan she served. That’s what love made him dae.”
Davina felt his agony like a physical force.
He finally turned to her. His face was pale and his eyes were wild with hurt and fury layered on top of decades of buried wounds.
“Me maither died bringing Malcolm intae this world,” he explained heavily, as if every word cost him a year of his life. “I was eight. Old enough tae understand loss but nae old enough tae bear it. Me faither…” His breath caught. “Me faither blamed both me and Malcolm fer her death.”
Her heart clenched. How could that man blame a child for something like that?
Baird looked away, staring into some distant, terrible memory.
“He said I’d weakened her with me birth, that I’d taken too much from her and left her frail, that she had naething left when Malcolm came.” His voice trembled despite his effort to keep it steady. “He said that if I’d been stronger, she would’ve survived.”
“Oh, Baird…” Davina whispered.
He let out a hollow, broken laugh. “I spent me entire childhood trying tae prove him wrong. Stand straighter. Train harder. Feel naething, need naething.” His fists knotted at his sides.
“Every day, I tried tae be the son he wanted, because if I failed even once, he reminded me of what I’d cost him. ”
Davina’s vision blurred with tears.
“He forbade anyone tae speak her name,” Baird said quietly. “Tore out the flowers she planted. Closed her garden. Locked away everything she ever touched, because he said her memory made the clan weak.”
“And Filib?” she asked gently.
Baird’s jaw clenched.
“It’s obvious now he despised all of us.
Me faither fer winning her. Me braither fer taking her last breath.
And me…” He let out a harsh breath. “Me fer being the first-born son of the woman he could nae ferget. He was aware that removing Malcolm would prevent this marriage from taking place, therefore weakening the clan. But we surprised him…”
Davina took a step closer. “And ye’ve carried all that alone.”
“Aye,” he whispered. “Because that’s what a laird daes. Bear it. Swallow it. Lock it away.” He met her eyes then, his own breaking open. “But I couldnae lock it away taenight. I nearly killed him in front of the clan, Davina. I nearly proved me faither right, that emotion makes a man weak.”
Davina reached for him, placing her hand gently over his.
“Listen tae me,” she said, speaking steadily despite her tears. “What yer faither taught ye was wrong.”
Baird swallowed hard, but she continued.
“He taught ye that feeling is weakness, that vulnerability is shameful, that the only way tae be strong is tae become cold and hard.”
She stepped closer, touching his cheek.
“But I see a different truth, Baird. I see strength in yer grief. I see honor in yer love. I see the man ye are, nae the one yer faither tried tae shape.”
His eyes glistened, and he shut them tightly, leaning into her touch as though he’d been starved for it.
Davina whispered. “Ye stopped because I called ye. Because the man ye truly are heard me, even through all that pain. That is strength, Baird, nae what he taught ye.”
Without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around him. For a moment he went rigid, out of habit, but also out of fear. Then, slowly, his arms came around her, holding her as though he’d never learned how, but needed to.
“Davina…” he whispered into her hair. “I dinnae ken how tae dae this… any of this.”
She held him tighter, resting her cheek against his chest. “Ye’re already daeing it.”
He breathed in sharply, as if her words pierced something deep inside. He held her for a long moment, breathing against her hair as though relearning how to draw air into his lungs. When he finally pulled back, his expression was still raw.
“I cannae go back inside,” he told her.
Davina blinked. “Tae the castle?”
He shook his head, stepping back as though the very stone walls pressed too tightly around him. “Everywhere I turn, I see echoes. Me faither’s voice, Malcolm’s absence, Filib’s confession… I need out, Davina. I need air I can actually breathe.”
He scrubbed a hand over his face, trembling with exhaustion and something deeper.
“I dinnae ken where,” he murmured. “I just… I need tae get away. Before I lose meself entirely.”
Davina didn’t hesitate. “I’ll go with ye,” she said softly.
His head snapped up. “Nay. Ye’ve been through enough. Ye should—”
“I said,” she repeated gently, “that I will go wherever ye want.”
He looked at her as though she had handed him something he never thought he deserved.
“Davina…” he whispered.
She stepped closer. “Ye told me once that a laird bears everything alone. But ye’re nae alone anymore.”
The silence was filled only by their trembling breaths. Then, he nodded just once.
“Come then,” he told her, turning away. “Before I change me mind.”
But his hand shot out to her, and without thinking, she took it. Together, they crossed the courtyard toward the stables, where the horses were restless but familiar, as if sensing what had just happened.
Baird saddled his with practiced movements, though she saw the tension in his shoulders. When she placed a hand on his arm, he stilled.
“I’m here,” she murmured.
He closed his eyes for a heartbeat, then helped her mount before swinging onto his own horse. The gates creaked open, with guards watching in wide-eyed uncertainty as their laird rode out with his wife at his side. No one dared question him, not after the storm that had shaken the hall.
They rode hard until the castle’s stone silhouette vanished behind the rolling hills, swallowed by sunlight and distance.
The afternoon was warm, the kind of Highland warmth that softened the world without ever turning heavy.
A gentle breeze carried the clean scent of pine and heather, brushing cool fingers across Davina’s cheeks.
The steady rhythm of the horses’ hooves grounded her. Thud, thud, thud. Each beat eased the tightness that had coiled in her chest since the hall.
After some time, Baird eased his pace, guiding them off the main road and onto a narrow trail carved through tall grass and scattered wildflowers.
Ancient pines rose on either side, their branches arching overhead like a cathedral of green.
Sunlight filtered through the needles in shifting gold patterns that danced across the path.
At last, the trees parted.
A broad, sunlit clearing opened before them, the land sloping gently toward a serene loch.
The water shone like polished glass beneath the bright sky, small ripples glinting where dragonflies skimmed the surface.
The hillside around it was dotted with yellow gorse and purple thistle, a burst of color after too much stone and shadow.
Baird reined in his horse. Davina followed suit, letting her mare settle beside his.
For a long moment, they didn’t move. The air was warm and still, touched only by birdsong and the distant rustle of reeds. It felt like the world had finally given them a breath, a single, suspended moment where nothing chased them and nothing was demanded of them.
Then, Baird swung down from his horse, and she dismounted beside him, then joined him by the water’s edge. She didn’t speak. She simply stood there, watching and waiting.
There, he wasn’t the laird. He wasn’t a man hunted by grief or trapped by duty.
He was simply Baird and she was simply Davina.