Chapter 28
The crunch of leaves underfoot snapped Arran’s attention toward the intrusion. He had come out to the gardens to find some peace, not to be disturbed; he had given express instructions to that effect.
“I said I wanted a moment to–” the snarl died in his throat as he saw the pale face and startled blue eyes of the woman he cared for—more deeply than he was willing to admit.
“I will leave you be,” Victoria mumbled, turning. “I did not realize anyone else would be down here.”
Arran shot to his feet and closed the distance between them in an instant, his hand reaching for her upper arm, above the elbow. Even in his urgency, he did not forget the old wounds on her wrists.
“I didnae realize it was ye,” he said, his grip fierce. Anything to prevent her from walking out of his sight again; he had not liked it when she had turned her back on him in the healer’s quarters, and he would not allow it now. Not with so much left unsaid.
She glanced back at him, her gaze flitting to his hand on her. “I suppose you have saved me the trouble of having to find you later,” she said, her tone as cold as her expression. “My father has woken up.”
“That’s good,” Arran said, relief relaxing some of the tension in his muscles that the whisky had not yet eased. “That’s good; I’m glad.”
Since leaving the healer’s quarters, he had prayed to all the gods he could think of, old and new, for her father to survive.
It was not merely that he did not want the older man’s death on his conscience, but that he knew that if her father died, she would never be able to forgive him. She would never even look at him again.
“I expect that we will leave in a couple of days,” she added, twisting the knife that her cold demeanor had lodged in his heart.
It was not new information, her desire to abandon this corner of Scotland as soon as possible, but the sting of it had not lessened any.
In truth, part of him had anticipated that she might come around to the idea of staying once her father was no longer in any danger.
With that worry gone, he had hoped that she would have the space in her mind to process the events of the cèilidh and come to understand that he had acted correctly.
He tightened his grip on the neck of the bottle still in his hand, so he would not tighten his grip on her arm instead.
“I’ve said since ye came here, ye’ve been free to go where ye please,” he said, his tone laced with the bitterness of the liquor.
“But answer me this: do ye really think I was just usin’ ye, all this time? ”
That accusation had lingered the most, stuck in his mind like a thorn too deep to remove.
Victoria said nothing, but her silence said more than an entire speech. She bowed her head, her chin to her chest, and stared at the dew-soaked grass, denying him the decency—or the mercy—of looking at him.
“I’d have kept ye locked up, like that bastard, if I were usin’ ye and nothin’ more,” he continued venomously.
“I wouldnae have introduced ye to my sister. Hell, if ye were just a pawn, I wouldnae have made me sister stay in the same keep as the betrothed of the man who took advantage of her. Ye’d have been in a cabin in the woods, under constant guard.
Nae just that, but I had my soldiers risk their lives for ye, I fought my council for ye, I risked the safety of my niece for ye.
All of that—for what, eh? I can tell ye right now; it wasnae for me. ”
I did it all for ye, ye dolt. Aye, for Kristin and, aye, for some revenge, but… mostly it was for ye. He could not say the last part. Surely, Victoria could fill in the blanks herself?
She continued to stare at the ground, the toe of her boot scuffing against a tuft of dandelion leaves.
“You do not need to remind me of all the things I should thank you for. Or indeed apologize for,” she said in that same cold, emotionless, infuriating voice.
“My imminent departure is my showing my gratitude. We will part ways civilly, as we always said we would, then I shall return to the south to fix what has been broken. I will tend to Melody. I will find a way to restore our finances. I will–”
Arran’s bark of harsh laughter interrupted her.
She lifted her head, a frown creasing her blue eyes. “I do not see what is so funny.”
“None of this is,” he replied, letting go of her. “But yer finances are one thing ye daenae need to worry about. That’s as good as done. As soon as ye told me of yer situation, I sent two of my best men to hunt down yer faither’s debt collectors.”
Victoria paled, her hand to her mouth as she cried, “You have had them killed? What is the matter with you!”
“I sent men to pay them, ye goose,” Arran bit back, his eye twitching at the insult.
Did she truly think so ill of him after all that he had done?
She had even admitted that she was grateful for his actions, yet she seemed to want to think of him as some kind of bloodthirsty monster who just went about killing people.
Charles Rowley had deserved it, and upon battlefields, Arran did not have much choice other than to fight, but he did not make a habit of ending lives. And never for no reason.
Victoria faltered, a glimpse of the woman he had come to adore shining through for a fleeting moment, like the sun poking through the densest winter storm clouds.
“If that’s resolved,” he said, “then tell me, is there any other reason ye want to run away from me as fast as ye can? And daenae say yer sister; ye said yerself she’s safe where she is.”
He was certain that her stubborn resolve would crumble; he could almost feel the foundations of her desire to leave breaking apart.
All she had to do was let go of whatever was giving her doubts, and then it might open the path for her to stay.
Truly, if her problems were already remedied in England, what did she have to go back for?
Victoria lowered her head again, though she could not hide the pink of her cheeks, but he did not know what manner of blush it was: the good kind or the bad.
“There is just one reason,” she said. “I cannot trust you, and if I cannot trust you, then I cannot be around you.”
Arran took a step back. “And what have I done to deserve yer distrust? This cannae be about yer faither again. This cannae be about what happened in the Great Hall. I’ve explained it to ye!”
“Yes, you have, and that is why I do not trust you. You did not stop to think about him; you have as good as admitted that you did not, yet you see no wrong in what you did. That is why I do not trust you.”
He stared at her in disbelief. “All that mattered to me was that ye were safe, lass. If it were a choice between ye and a thousand others, I’d choose ye without hesitation.
I didnae stop to think because I had to act and there wasnae time to waste.
That is what I have always done, and it has won me wars, lass.
It has saved more lives than ye can imagine by ceasin’ bloodshed early. ”
He knew he was being just as stubborn as she was, but if she wanted him to pretend he was someone else, he could not.
This was the man, the Laird, the person he was.
This was who he’d been raised to be—to protect his clan and his lands.
This was his inheritance, and she did not get to tell him that all those years of toil and sacrifice just to keep his title and to keep his clan safe were wrong.
“My point exactly,” she said. “You and I are from different worlds. I come from one in which there is more to life than one person’s safety.
Other people cannot be… sacrificed for just one person or one cause, Arran.
That is madness. And there are other things to be considered.
Feelings and… It does not matter; we are leaving tomorrow. ”
He narrowed his eyes. “Yet, ye would sacrifice yerself for yer sister.”
“That is different.”
“How is it?”
Her face contorted in an expression of strained thought.
“Because that is one person sacrificing for one person. No one else is harmed or brought into it. And because that is about… a bond between sisters.” She let out a frustrated breath.
“We are never going to agree on this, so just say your farewell to me now and let that be that.”
“Ye said ye would be leavin’ in a couple of days, nae tomorrow.” He had only just realized what she had said about her departure, pulling the last bit of hope out from under him.
“Yes, well, I would rather get my father home as soon as possible.” She dipped her head in a small bow. “Goodbye, Arran. Thank you for all you have done. I shall… not forget it.”
He moved forward to say his farewell, for if she really was leaving, he could not let her go without one last kiss, one last touch.
They were out in the gardens, after all, where they had shared a moment on the grass.
If he had known that this would have been the last kiss, he would not have been so quick to return indoors.
No, he would not have let that be the last.
But Victoria had already turned, her farewell hanging in the air as she hurried away from him. He could not catch her without appearing desperate. She had just been freed from one man who had tried to bend her to his will, and Arran would not be even an echo of that devil.
So, he watched her go, wretched exasperation building inside him as her figure grew smaller and smaller… until he could not see her anymore.
His arm swung forward, hurling the bottle of whisky with all of his might, the glass shattering against the trunk of an oak. Shards and liquor splintered outward in a glinting spray as his hardened heart cracked in two.