Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Ishouldnae have said it.
The thought followed him the moment he left the hall, nipping at his heels no matter how quickly he walked. His boots struck the stone with sharp intent, but the sound did little to drown out his thoughts.
He had seen the way she stilled beneath his words. Felt it. And still, he could not stop himself.
He had not even stayed to eat, the meal forgotten the moment she lifted her gaze and asked that question as though she had every right. As though she had a claim.
He had meant to keep his distance, remain in control. Do what was required when it could not be avoided, and no sooner. Instead, he found himself circling her like she was prey.
He exhaled slowly, pushing the thought aside before it could settle into something he would have to face.
The corridor ahead opened onto the passage that led outside. He had no clear direction in mind, only the suffocating need to be out of the hall. Out of her reach.
As he stepped into the corridor, a small figure collided with him as it rounded the corner.
“Da!”
Elspeth skidded to a halt before him, her hair half-loose from running. Morag followed behind at a measured pace, holding Elspeth’s turtle, her sharp eyes assessing him.
Rowan went still, the tension in his body easing a fraction as he looked down at Elspeth. “Are ye nae supposed to be at the pond?”
“Aye, but Morag said that it was cold out. That I needed to wear somethin’ warmer.” She took a step back and twirled around to show off her cloak. “Are ye goin’ to come with us?”
He glanced briefly toward the passage that led out to the yard, then back at Elspeth, Morag’s judgmental gaze burning a hole in the side of his head. There were always things that required his attention. Work that could not wait.
“Daenae be neglectin’ yer daughter now,” Morag scolded.
Elspeth’s expectant eyes and soft smile were enough to break his resolve. “Aye, I’ll come.”
Elspeth let out a cry of joy, jumping up and down excitedly. She wasted no time once they stepped outside, tugging at his hand as though he might change his mind. “Come along, Da. They’ll be gone if we’re too slow.”
Rowan allowed it, adjusting his stride to match hers. Her excitement carried forward in bursts, her words spilling freely as they stepped out into the cooler air beyond the stone walls. Morag walked a few paces behind them.
“I’m sure Mr. Turtle’s whole family will be there. They always are. His ma, his braithers, and his sisters.”
Rowan made a quiet sound of acknowledgment, humoring her. “How can ye tell them apart?”
Elspeth stared off into the distance for a moment before answering. “Well, his ma is the biggest one. She’s always letting the other ones climb on her. His braithers are big too, but nae as big as their ma. And his sisters always bite me when I get too close.”
Rowan almost laughed, amused at how she could talk so quickly within seconds. “I’ll make sure to stay away from them, then.”
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
It had always been like this. Just the two of them. He had ensured she lacked for nothing. That had been enough. It had to be.
And yet—
“Lady Sorcha likes the turtles,” Elspeth said suddenly, breaking the silence. “She says they daenae like loud noises, so ye have to be gentle when ye’re near.”
That sounded like Sorcha. Measured. Observant. Careful in ways that did not draw attention to her unless one was looking for her.
Elspeth’s grip loosened on his hand as she turned back. “We should’ve asked her to come with us.”
This isnae what this was meant to be. Sorcha beside us. Elspeth already speakin’ of her as though she belongs here. As though it has always been the case.
Sorcha had done nothing but take her place as it had been given, steady where most would have faltered, gentle in ways that did not ask for notice.
And still Roward found himself resisting her. Not for what she had done, but for everything she reminded him of.
Elspeth let go of his hand and ran toward Morag to grab Mr. Turtle, before running off ahead of them. “We have to hurry, Mr. Turtle! Yer family is waitin’!”
“Daenae runs too fast, Lady Elspeth. Ye’ll trip and fall!” Morag called out, shaking her head. “The girl doesnae listen.” Her tone was scolding, but Rowan could see a hint of a smile as she watched Elspeth run down the path.
They followed in silence, watching Elspeth twirl around as she skipped with her turtle.
“Ye finished yer meal early,” Morag noted, breaking the silence.
“I wasnae hungry.”
“Aye,” she replied, sounding unconvinced. “And I suppose that has nothin’ to do with yer new wife.”
Morag had never been one to mince her words. Not when he had been a boy, and certainly not now.
“It is handled,” he replied curtly.
“Is it now?”
He shot her a brief look, enough to show his irritation, but she met it without flinching.
“I’ve seen ye handle things before, Rowan,” she said. “This doesnae look the same.”
He looked ahead again, his expression hardening. “It is nay concern of yers.”
Morag huffed quietly, though there was no true offense in it. “I’ve watched ye since ye were small enough to hide behind me skirts. I ken when something’s nae sittin’ right.”
He could not say anything to that because she was not entirely wrong. He felt it in the way his thoughts would not settle. In the way his temper sat too close to the surface. In the way Sorcha’s voice lingered in his mind longer than it should have.
“Holdin’ yerself back willnae change reality, ye ken. She’s still yer wife. Ye cannae run away forever.”
His jaw tightened, but he kept his gaze forward. “Mind yer words.”
“I am,” she replied without flinching. “More than ye are, from the looks of it.”
Shaking his head, he walked past her to Elspeth, who was now sitting at the edge of the pond. She watched as the turtle made its way toward its family.
She smiled as he approached, pointing toward the rocks. “Da, look! They’re all there!”
Rowan crouched beside her, watching as the turtle climbed onto the largest one of them. The mother, Elspeth had pointed out earlier. He turned back toward her, and that was when he noticed the small pendant around her neck.
He reached for it, grasping it gently between his fingers. He ran his thumb over the carving, feeling its texture. A turtle, he realized.
“What’s this?”
Elspeth followed his gaze, smiling widely as she realized what he was speaking about. “Lady Sorcha made it,” she said proudly. “It’s Mr. Turtle.”
Rowan admired the clean lines. Though simple in design, they were carefully intended. Unexpected.
He released the pendant slowly, his eyes lingering on its design. He had not taken his wife for someone who worked with her hands in such a way. There had been nothing in her manner to suggest it.
There was more to her than he had accounted for.
Of course, there was. He’d hardly made the time to get to know her, after all.
“I used to carve,” he said before he could stop himself.
The words felt strange on his tongue. It was not something he spoke of often, if at all. He had not thought of it in years.
“Ye did?” Elspeth asked, her full attention focused on him now instead of the turtles.
“Aye.”
“What did ye make?”
He hesitated for a moment, his chest tightening as the memories rose to the surface. “Small things. Figures. Animals. Whatever I had the patience for.”
“I want to see,” she said at once.
He looked pensively across the pond, watching Mr. Turtle’s siblings lie about the rocks, reminding him of his own family. “There’s nothin’ to see now.”
“Can ye carve me somethin’ one day?” Elspeth asked.
Rowan glanced back at her, caught slightly off guard by her request.
“Maybe,” he said after a moment. “When I have the time.”
Her face brightened at once. “Tomorrow?”
He laughed quietly at her impatience. “It doesnae work that way.”
Elspeth frowned. “Why nae?”
“Because it takes time,” he said, his voice steadier now. “Ye daenae rush things like that, or else they turn out wrong.”
She seemed to consider that carefully, her eyebrows drawing together. She looked like she was going to question him further, but then she looked down at the pendant, her fingers brushing over it.
“Lady Sorcha says patience is strength,” she murmured.
He went still. The words settled deep inside him, heavier than they should have. “Does she now?”
“Aye. She says it means ye can wait without being afraid. So I’ll wait, Da.”
His thoughts drifted back to last night. To how he had told Sorcha he would come for her. His breath caught halfway through his chest, as though his body had forgotten how to expel it.
He could picture it so easily, how Sorcha would have composed herself and simply waited for him to come.
Something sharp tightened in his chest.
I daenae want her shapin’ herself around me absence. And yet, I left her with nothin’ else.
He wondered how long her patience would hold before it turned into something else entirely.
A shout suddenly cut through the yard behind them, the urgency in it causing Rowen to stand and turn at once, pushing Elspeth behind his leg.
A guard approached at a near run, his breath short, his expression tight.
“Me Laird,” he said, barely able to catch his breath. “There’s been another fire.”
Rowan’s breath faltered, catching low before he forced it steady again. He heard Morag call Elspeth over. He could feel Elspeth’s worried eyes darting between him and the guard as she left his side.
“Where?”
“The lower stores, near the eastern border.”
Rowan did not hesitate. “Stay here,” he said to Morag and Elspeth, already moving past them.
His stride lengthened as he cut across the yard, the tension that had followed him from the hall settling into something far more useful.
The first fire had not been an accident. This was no different.
Whoever was behind it had grown bold.
And now, they had his attention.