Chapter 43
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Edith’s breath caught.
Tears spilled freely down her face as the shock of everything finally crashed over her. Her entire body trembled against Aaron, each breath coming in small, broken gasps that could not seem to steady.
“Edith,” Aaron whispered as he gathered her closer. “I have ye.”
His hand slipped gently through her tangled auburn hair, smoothing it back from her face as though the simple gesture might quell the tremors in her limbs.
“I am here,” he murmured against her temple. “Ye are safe now.”
For a long while, neither of them spoke. Aaron simply held her, feeling each uneven breath she drew until she settled.
MacFaris was dead. She was alive. And that was all that mattered.
“Aaron.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.
“Aye?”
“Forgive me.”
Aaron’s hand stilled in her hair. He drew back just enough to look at her, confusion creasing his brow. “Forgive ye?”
“Me carelessness has caused ye much trouble.”
“Nay, Edith—”
She shook her head before he could finish.
“Please…” Her voice quivered. “Let me speak.”
Aaron fell silent.
She slowly pulled away from him, sitting upright on the floor so that she was facing him.
“I told Laird MacFaris that ye would never surrender yer lands.” Her gaze dropped.
“But I couldnae tell him…” She paused, swallowing hard.
“I couldnae tell him that this was only an arrangement. A false betrothal.” Her voice cracked, her fingers curling into her skirt.
“That ye would never give away Hallow for someone like me.”
Her gaze lifted again, her lips curling into a faint, bitter smile. “He wouldnae believe me.” The smile disappeared. “He kept sayin’ ye would come, and ye did.”
Silence settled between them.
Aaron’s chest tightened painfully. So painfully that for a moment, he was at a loss for words.
The thought that Edith had spent even a second trying to convince MacFaris not to bargain with her life was unbearable. But to find out that she had done it believing herself to be worth less than his lands… it stung more than he had expected.
“Ye could have lost yer lands,” Edith continued, digging a dagger into his chest without even knowing it. “Ye shouldnae have come.”
For a heartbeat, Aaron could only stare at her.
How was he going to admit that MacFaris had been right? That he would have surrendered every acre of Hallow to save her if it had come to it? How was he going to admit that somewhere along the line, she had become the one thing he did not want to lose?
His throat tightened.
He had never imagined that such words would slip past his lips, and yet, for the first time, he found himself willing to say them.
He stared at her for a moment before speaking.
“Edith,” he whispered, with a quiet desperation. “Ye should never speak of yerself in such a manner.”
Edith blinked. “What?”
“MacFaris wasnae wrong to expect me,” Aaron said quietly, his voice rough with something he had spent weeks trying to suppress. “He believed I would come because he thought I cared for ye.” He swallowed hard. “He saw the truth before I was even willin’ to admit it.”
Edith stared at him, her lips parting slightly. “But we arenae truly betrothed.”
“I ken,” Aaron said, slowly rising to his feet.
Remaining on the floor suddenly felt impossible. Too exposed. Too vulnerable for what he was about to say.
“I have spent the past week remindin’ meself of the same thing, Edith.” His gaze drifted to the window. “I have only been lyin’ to meself.”
Edith rose to her feet as well, standing behind him.
“Aaron.” Her fingers brushed lightly against his arm, and he turned to face her fully, his eyes holding hers with more intensity than they’d ever had.
“I told meself it meant nothin’.” He shook his head once. “That ye would leave, and I would return to bein’ exactly who I was before any of this began.” His voice faltered. “But I cannae do it.”
His hand came up to her face, cradling it gently.
“I cannae watch ye leave for the Lowlands,” he rasped, stepping closer to her. “And I cannae pretend that it willnae break me, because it will.”
The admission was not grand in any way. It was quiet, barely a whisper, but it tore free of him with more force than he had expected.
Edith’s lips parted, fresh tears welling up in her eyes.
“For the first time in me life,” Aaron continued, his voice raw, his forehead coming to rest gently against hers. “I daenae want to deny meself somethin’ I want.”
Her wild lavender scent filled his senses, and he closed his eyes, his lips nearly brushing against hers.
“I am starvin’ for ye, Edith,” he murmured. “I have been for a week, and I cannae go on without ye.” His fingers stroked her cheek. “But I willnae stand in the way of the freedom ye seek. If the Lowlands are still yer dream, then I shall—”
A sob tore from Edith’s throat, and he froze. Her shoulders shook as fresh tears spilled down her cheeks, and he felt his stomach knot painfully.
Surely, I have ruined it.
His hands slipped from her face. He did not know what to do with them.
“Forgive me,” he said quietly, taking a reluctant step back. “I have overstepped.”
Edith looked up at him through tear-filled eyes. “Och, Aaron.” She gave a watery laugh, striking his chest softly with the palm of her hand. “I didnae ask ye to stop.”
Aaron blinked. His gaze searched her face, realization dawning slowly on him. He had mistaken her tears for something else.
Of course.
A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth before disappearing beneath something far more vulnerable.
His hand came over hers, holding it against his chest as he watched her for a moment.
“I have a dream now, Edith,” he said, his thumb brushing away the tears that kept falling. “Ye. So daenae ask me to pretend I wish for anythin’ else.”
Edith stepped forward, resting her head against his chest. Her tears soaked his tunic.
Aaron exhaled as she cried, wrapping his arms around her. He wished there was something more he could do.
“I have always believed home was somewhere far away,” she whispered once she had calmed enough to speak. “A wee cottage. Perhaps in me maither’s village.”
A faint smile touched Aaron’s lips. “I have prepared one for ye.”
Edith shook her head. “It isnae home,” she said softly. “It never was.” She looked up, lifting her hand to his cheek. “Home is… ye.”
Aaron’s breath stuttered, only for a moment.
He had spent fifteen years building walls around himself, strong enough to withstand any storm.
He had never once imagined those walls coming down for anyone, let alone a woman who had lived under his roof for as long as he had been Laird.
A woman whom he had practically forced into a false betrothal. His sister’s best friend.
And yet here she was, staring into his eyes with a bloodstain on her sleeve, tears shining in her eyes as she looked at him as though he was the safest place she had ever known.
His heart pounded so hard that he thought his chest might split open.
“Marry me,” he said, the words leaving him before he had fully thought to say them, raw and unrehearsed in a way nothing in his life had ever been.
Edith’s breath caught. “Aaron—”
“Properly,” he said, taking both of her hands in his own. “Nae as a ruse. I am askin’ ye to be me wife. Truly. For the rest of our lives, however long the saints grant us.”
She stared at him, disbelief and joy warring openly across her face.
“Ye swore ye would never marry,” she reminded him, her voice trembling.
“Aye,” Aaron said, a faint, helpless smile tugging at his mouth. “And I have never once broken a vow more gladly than I will break this one.”
A laugh escaped her, broken and joyful all at once, and she melted into him.
“Aye,” she murmured. “Aye, Aaron. I will marry ye.”
He kissed her then, a soft and tender kiss, his hands cradling her face as though she might disappear if he loosened his grip even slightly.
Edith kissed him back with the same fierce relief, her uninjured hand curling into his tunic, holding him close despite the chaos still surrounding them.
When they finally broke apart, he rested his forehead against hers once more, neither of them saying a word.
Aaron’s gaze dropped to her wounded arm, his joy giving way to concern as he noticed fresh blood soaking through her sleeve.
“We must see to yer wound,” he said, his tone steadying back into something more practical, though his hands remained gentle as he examined her. “Martin will need to tend to it properly.”
Edith shook her head. “’Tis nae a deep cut. I can manage.”
Aaron ignored her. He scooped her up into his arms despite her weak protests and turned toward the door.
“I can walk, ye ken,” she said, though she made no effort to wriggle out of his hold.
“Aye,” Aaron said. “But ye willnae, nae while I have breath in me body.”
She did not argue further, her head settling against his shoulder as he carried her out of the study, stepping carefully over MacFaris’s body without a single backward glance.
The corridor outside was still empty, save for a few trusted guards who had come to clean up the mess.
Aaron’s entire focus remained on the woman in his arms as he headed to the healer’s chamber.
Martin’s expression shifted the moment he registered the blood on Edith’s sleeve.
“Put her here,” he instructed.
Aaron laid her down carefully, his hand lingering on her cheek for a moment before he stepped back, giving the healer room to work.
“How bad?”
“A clean cut,” Martin replied, already reaching for his supplies. “’Tis shallow. I’ll wrap it to keep it from opening again, but she is lucky.”
Relief washed over Aaron so visibly that Edith laughed softly.
“I told ye,” she said.
“Aye. Me very own healer.”
Martin gave them both an amused smile before he began to clean the wound.
“Aaron,” Edith said, her voice softer now. “Ye must go.”
His brows furrowed. “Nay.”
“Ye must,” she said, more firmly. “Scarlett. Caelan. Yer people need ye.” Her uninjured hand found his. “I am here. Martin will care for me.”
Aaron’s jaw tightened, every instinct rebelling against the idea of leaving her side even for a moment.
But she was right. He was the Laird, after all. There were still threats to contain. And he needed to see to the safety of the people outside.
“I will return,” he promised, pressing his forehead briefly against hers. “The moment everything is secure, I will return to ye. I swear it.”
Edith smiled softly.
“I ken,” she said. “Now go. Yer people need ye.”