Chapter 27
KEIRA
The Price of Pride
The castle library has always been my refuge.
As a child, I used to hide there to escape piano lessons.
As a teenager, I filled notebooks with every rebellious thought that crossed my mind.
And today, I find myself here again, desperately trying to focus on restoration plans for an old church in Inverness instead of the gaping emptiness that’s taken over my heart since my breakup with Alistair.
Well… since I ended our arrangement.
I’ve spent days telling myself it was the right decision, but no matter how hard I try to believe it, I just can’t.
— So this is how historians work? Head in the clouds and pencil untouched for twenty minutes?
I glance up to find Lachlan leaning against a bookshelf, watching me with that familiar teasing smile. In my current state, his presence is a quiet comfort. He’s always had a way of making me smile—even when I feel like falling apart.
— At least I pretend to work, you blockhead, I shoot back, tossing a pencil at him. He catches it effortlessly. Which is more than I can say for certain landowners who spend their days terrorizing innocent sheep.
— Hamish is anything but innocent, he counters, dropping into the chair across from me. That sheep is going to be the Highlands’ most wanted criminal someday, and you know it.
A comfortable silence settles between us as Lachlan flips idly through one of the books on the table. I notice, though, that he seems unusually thoughtful—almost… melancholic.
— What’s wrong? I ask at last.
He shrugs, avoiding my gaze.
— What makes you think something’s wrong?
— The fact that you haven’t made a single comment about my outfit or my dark circles. You’re losing your edge, featherbrain.
That earns me half a smile, but his eyes remain serious.
— I’m thinking about leaving, he says finally.
— Leaving? Going where?
— Edinburgh. I got an offer to teach. Nothing spectacular, just an entry-level position, but… it’s a start.
The news catches me completely off guard. Lachlan has always been a constant in my life. The idea of him leaving the Highlands had never even crossed my mind.
— But… what about the estate? The sheep? And Hamish?
— Hamish will survive without me, he says with a sad smile. He’s got Rosita now, the traitor.
I place my hand over his, suddenly uneasy.
— Lachlan, seriously. Why now?
He sighs, running a hand through his hair.
— I’m tired, Keira. Tired of just being the cousin who manages the estate. Tired of living in the shadow of the great McGregor castle. I need to build something that’s mine. Find my own path.
His words hit deeper than I expect. Isn’t that exactly what I should be doing too? Choosing my own path instead of bending under Malcolm McKenzie’s threats?
— When would you leave? I ask, my throat tight.
— In a few weeks, if everything goes well. I still have a few things to sort out.
I nod, trying to ignore the fresh wave of loss layering itself over the emptiness already inside me.
— I’m going to miss you, you stubborn mule, I murmur.
— You too, panda face. But it’s not like I’m moving to the other side of the world. Edinburgh’s only a few hours away.
— It won’t be the same.
— No. It’ll be better. You can come visit, do some shopping, and I’ll show you real pubs—not those Highland rat holes where they water down the whisky.
I try to laugh, but it comes out strained. In the span of a few days, I’ve lost Alistair… and now I’m about to lose my closest confidant too.
— What about you? Lachlan asks, deliberately changing the subject. How are things with your McKenzie?
The question throws me. I haven’t told anyone that our engagement is over. How could I, when no one even knew it was fake to begin with?
— It’s fine.
— Really? Because if it were, you wouldn’t be sitting here staring at that plan for hours without drawing a single line. And you’d probably be wearing an engagement ring.
I glance down at my bare left hand.
— It’s complicated, I admit.
— Did you think Cupid came with an instruction manual? he replies with his usual humor.
Before I can answer, the library door opens and Maggie steps in.
— Ah, there you both are, she says, studying us closely. Lachlan, your father’s looking for you. Apparently, a certain sheep is loose again.
— Again? Lachlan groans, rolling his eyes. At this point, he’s going to need his own lawyer.
He stands, shoots me one last knowing look, then slips out—murmuring something in Maggie’s ear as he passes. I catch the way her eyes widen slightly before she nods.
Once we’re alone, my grandmother moves closer and takes the seat he just vacated.
— How are you, my dear? she asks gently.
— Fine, I reply automatically.
— Really? Because for the past few days, you’ve looked about as cheerful as a rainy day in November.
I shrug, unable to meet her gaze.
— I’ve just been busy.
— And that doesn’t include your fiancé? I haven’t heard anything about Alistair lately.
I fall silent, unsure how to answer. How do I explain that it was all a lie from the beginning? That our engagement was nothing more than a facade to satisfy her—and Alistair’s investors?
— We’ve had… some disagreements, I mutter.
— Disagreements, she repeats, unconvinced. I see.
She leans forward, her sharp eyes studying me as if she can read straight into my soul.
— Keira, do you know what I think about barriers?
I frown, thrown by the shift.
— No?
— I think most of them exist only in our minds. We build walls, draw lines, create borders… but for what? To protect ourselves? From what? Happiness?
Her words strike deeper than I want to admit. Isn’t that exactly what I’ve been doing? Building walls to protect Alistair… to protect myself… when all I really want is to be with him?
— It’s not that simple, Gran, I murmur.
— It never is, my dear. But trust me on this—pride makes for a very cold bedfellow.
Before I can respond, there’s a knock on the door. Jamison enters, his expression as impassive as ever.
— Forgive the interruption, Madam, Miss Keira. Mr. Alistair McKenzie is here and requests to see you.
My heart stops.
Alistair. Here. After everything I said. After the way I pushed him away.
— I… I can’t see him, I stammer.
— Of course you can, Maggie says firmly. And you will. Jamison, show Mr. McKenzie into the library.
— Grandmother—
— What? He is your fiancé, isn’t he? Unless there’s something you’d like to tell me?
Her gaze challenges me to confess the truth. But before I can find the courage, Jamison returns—followed by Alistair.
He stands in the doorway, looking both determined and exhausted. His hair is slightly disheveled, like he’s been running his hands through it all day—a habit he falls into when he’s stressed. He’s wearing a dark suit, no tie, and in his hand is an old, rusted metal box.
Our eyes meet, and for a moment, everything else fades—Maggie, the library, the world. There’s only him and me, and that electric tension that’s always existed between us.
— I’ll leave you to it, Maggie announces, rising. I have… things to do. Very important things.
The excuse is so terrible I might have laughed under different circumstances. But right now, I’m too busy trying to steady the erratic pounding of my heart.
The door closes behind her, leaving us alone.
— Hello, Keira, Alistair says at last, breaking the silence.
— Hello, I reply, my voice barely above a whisper.
— I’m sorry for showing up unannounced.
— It’s fine.
Another silence stretches between us.
— How are you? he asks.
— Fine.
That makes three lies today.
— And you?
— I’ve been better, he says with disarming honesty. I haven’t slept in days, I’ve been surviving on coffee and whisky, and I’ve probably terrified half my staff with my foul mood.
His bluntness catches me off guard.
— Why are you here, Alistair?
He steps closer, slowly, as if afraid I might bolt if he moves too fast.
— I need to know the truth, Keira. Did my father speak to you during dinner? When I was on the phone?
The question chills me.
— I don’t know what you’re talking about, I say, looking away.
— Please don’t lie to me. Not you.
There’s so much pain in his voice I can’t keep up the act.
— How did you find out? I whisper.
— I put two and two together. I tried to speak to my father, but very conveniently, he had an important meeting in Edinburgh today…
I close my eyes, defeated.
— What exactly did he say? Alistair asks, sitting across from me.
— He knows about our arrangement. About the fake engagement.
— I figured.
— He said he’d already signed an agreement with William Fraser for the shop. That my project didn’t stand a chance. And that if I… if I truly cared about you, I should end things before you were disinherited because of me.
I finally look up at him, bracing myself for anger—maybe even contempt. But all I find is a tenderness so overwhelming it steals my breath.
— And you believed him, he says softly. You thought you were protecting me.
It’s not a question, but I nod anyway.
— I didn’t want to be the reason you lost everything, I whisper. Your family, your inheritance, the distillery…
Alistair shakes his head, a sad smile tugging at his lips.
— You don’t understand. You’re not what could make me lose everything, Keira. You’re everything I stand to gain.
The words leave me speechless. He sets the metal box on the table between us.
— I found something, he says, opening it. Something that could change a lot.
Inside are several objects.
— What is it? I ask, my historian’s curiosity briefly overpowering my emotional turmoil.
— The treasure we were looking for in the archives. Or at least… half of it.
He pulls out a small, worn leather journal.
— This belonged to Archibald McKenzie. The one who was in love with Elspeth McGregor.
My heart stumbles.
— Where did you find all this?
— In the underground passage. The one Hamish used to get into the distillery. I went back yesterday. I was looking for… I don’t know. A distraction, maybe. And I found this box hidden in an alcove.
He hands me the journal, and I take it carefully, aware that I’m holding an invaluable piece of family history.
— Read the last entry, he suggests.
I gently flip through the yellowed pages until I reach the final one, dated September 15th, 1897.
As I read, deciphering Archibald’s elegant handwriting, my throat tightens.
When I look up again, I’m shaken by words written so long ago. History repeating itself—generation after generation. The same impossible choices. The same cruel ultimatums.
— Archibald chose his inheritance, didn’t he? I ask, already knowing the answer. That’s why our families stayed enemies all this time.
Alistair nods, his gaze locked on mine.
— Yes. And he regretted it for the rest of his life. My mother told me he was never truly happy after that. He stayed single, devoted himself entirely to the distillery, trying to convince himself he’d made the right choice.
He reaches across the table and takes my hand. His touch sends a shiver up my arm.
— I won’t make the same mistake, Keira. I won’t choose my inheritance over love. I won’t let my father—or anyone else—decide my happiness.
— What do you mean? I ask, my voice tight.
— I mean that if I have to choose between the McKenzie distillery and you… I choose you. Without hesitation. I’m ready to walk away from my inheritance, my name—everything—if that’s the price of being with you.
His words steal the air from my lungs. It’s everything I’ve secretly longed to hear… and yet, it terrifies me.
— You can’t do that, I protest. The distillery has been in your family for generations. It’s your whole life.
— No. It might be my life’s work. But it’s not my life. These past few days have made one thing clear—none of it matters if I have no one to share it with. If the person I love isn’t by my side… what’s the point?
The word love lingers between us. It’s the first time he’s said it.
— You’d regret it, I whisper, fighting the hope rising inside me. Maybe not right away, but someday, you’d resent me for being the reason you lost everything.
— That’s a risk I’m willing to take.
— And what if I’m not ready to take that risk?
— Then I’ll wait until you are.
Alistair looks at me, and I feel like I’m about to completely unravel under the weight of the love in his eyes.
Suddenly, a loud bleat followed by a shout echoes from outside. We both turn toward the open window to see Hamish—our ever-present sheep—being chased across the garden by Lachlan. The animal appears to be dragging what looks suspiciously like one of Maggie’s hats.
Despite everything, laughter bursts out of me. Alistair joins in, and for a moment, the tension between us lifts.
— Hamish has impeccable timing, Alistair remarks.
He shakes his head, smiling.
— It’s his superpower, I agree. That—and finding ancient secret passages.
Our eyes meet again, and something has shifted. A lightness settles between us, as if we’ve finally understood that life is too short for misunderstandings and unnecessary sacrifices.
— Keira… maybe we could start by looking for the other half of Archibald and Elspeth’s treasure? Together?
The suggestion sounds innocent, but it carries weight. This isn’t just a treasure hunt—it’s a chance to rewrite history. To give our story a different ending than theirs.
— Strictly for solving the historical mystery, I clarify, still unable to fully surrender to hope.
— Of course, he says with a smile that suggests he doesn’t believe a word of it. Purely historical purposes.
— Exactly.
— Any idea where the other half might be?
I think, mentally combing through every corner of McGregor Castle that could serve as a hiding place.
— Maybe the family archives? Or the old hunting lodge. It’s the oldest building on the estate.
— Where do you want to start?
I stand, suddenly eager to begin. It’s an excuse to spend time with him without having to admit it’s exactly what I want.
— Let’s go retrieve Hamish before he destroys the entire garden, I say. Then we can start with the archives.
Alistair rises as well, carefully gathering the items back into the box.
— After you, he says, gesturing toward the door with quiet gallantry.
As we leave the library, a strange lightness fills me—and for the first time in days, I let myself believe that maybe… just maybe… our story might still have a happy ending.