Chapter 26 #2
"I am nae relieved because of a King’s ink, lass," he whispered, his eyes locking onto hers with a fierce, unblinking focus.
"I am glad because when Robert stood in that hall with his lies, ye didnae step back.
Ye stood right beside me. Ye looked the Lord Chancellor in his face and claimed Strathglass as our own. "
Nandag felt a quiet, steady heat bloom deep in her chest, washing away the lingering chill of the trial. She didn't look away. Instead, she reached up and caught his hand, her small fingers wrapping tightly around his wide palm, feeling the thick, familiar calluses along his grip.
"When ye brought yer broadswords through me faither’s gate, I never expected things tae turn out this way," she said, her voice clean and soft in the stillness of the garden.
"I thought I was a token tae be traded between two warlords, a piece of land bound up in an Accord, tae settle the King’s Accord. "
She brought his hand up slightly, her thumb tracing the hard bone of his wrist.
"It isnae a cage anymore, Fearchar," she murmured, looking straight into his eyes. "I didnae stand before the King fer Strathglass alone. I stood there fer ye. Me vows arenae a debt I am paying tae keep the peace. I choose this. I choose ye."
Fearchar’s breath hitched. For two long heartbeats, he remained completely still, as if the quiet weight of her words had anchored him to the stone path.
Then, his fingers closed tight around hers. He stepped forward, closing the small distance between them, his left hand coming up to cup the back of her neck. His fingers tangled in the soft hair at her nape, his broad thumb lifting her chin.
He leaned down and kissed her.
It wasn't the fierce, desperate touch of a man going into battle, nor the hesitant check of a laird careful of his bounds.
It was deep, slow, and unhurried—warm against her lips, taste of cool mountain air and the sweet, lingering heat of the honeysuckle above them.
Nandag let out a quiet sigh against his mouth, her free hand coming up to rest flat against his broad chest, feeling the heavy, steady thud of his heart beneath the wool.
When he finally pulled back, he didn't go far. He rested his forehead against hers, his rough thumb lightly caressing the line of her jaw while their breath mingled in the cool evening shade.
"Come sit," he murmured softly.
He led her over to the stone bench beneath the honeysuckle arbor.
Fearchar sat first, his long legs stretching out across the gravel path, and pulled her down beside him.
Nandag leaned into his side, sliding her arm through his, resting her head against the solid thickness of his shoulder.
The damp stone was cool beneath her skirt, but the heat radiating from his body kept the chill away.
Far below the garden walls, the faint sounds of Stirling—the ring of an anvil, the barking of hounds, and the distant call of sentries on the ramparts—drifted up on the wind, but in the alcove, the air felt suspended, untouched by the court.
"We ride for Strathglass at first light," Fearchar said after a long, easy silence, his hand resting over hers where it lay on his knee.
"Aye," Nandag agreed, her eyes watching a single white rose petal drift down from the trellis and land on the gravel. "The elders will be waiting at the lower ford. Old Fraser will want tae see the seal with his own eyes before he believes the King didnae demand another tax."
"Let him stare at it until he gets tired," Fearchar grunted, a faint, genuine smile curling the corner of his mouth against her hair. "He’ll have tae find something else tae grumble about over his ale."
Nandag let out a soft laugh, shifting slightly so she could look up at his profile. "And what of the keep? Robert may be stripped of his legal claims, but he willnae sit quietly in the east."
Fearchar’s jaw tightened slightly, but the dark, volatile rage that usually accompanied Robert’s name didn't take hold. His hand tightened its grip on hers, solid and unyielding.
"Let him come if he dares," Fearchar said, his voice calm, grounded in a quiet certainty that settled deep into her bones. "He has nay law tae hide behind now, nay elders tae bribe. Strathglass is barred against him, and every broadsword is sworn tae us."
He turned his head, looking down at her, his expression softening as his eyes took in the calm set of her features.
"When we get back," he murmured, his fingers gently playing with the fringe of her wool plaid, "ye will have yer peace, Nandag. Nay more emergency councils in the solar. We build the lower barn that burned in the spring. We stock the buttery fer the winter. And ye can sit on that boulder by the river and draw every rock in the glen if ye’ve a mind tae. "
Nandag smiled, leaning her cheek back against his shoulder as the sun finally dipped below the horizon, painting the sky above the garden in long, brilliant streaks of amber and rose.
The trials of the day, the politics of the court, the looming threat of Robert—it all seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them, bound together by something stronger than ink or wax.
As the first stars began to appear in the sky above the castle walls, Nandag rested her head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.
They would ride for Strathglass at first light, back to the keep, back to the life they were building together.