Scarlett’s breath came shallow, her vision swimming. She stared at the two bodies tangled on the floor, waiting for movement. Slowly, Robert pushed himself up, chest heaving. His sword lay forgotten at his side. Mack did not move. His head was turned at an unnatural angle, eyes wide and lifeless.
Scarlett pressed a trembling hand to her mouth. She wanted to look away but couldn’t.
Robert sat back on his heels, staring at the man who’d once served under him. In the flickering light, the Laird’s face was stripped of its command; only exhaustion and disbelief remained.
“Robert…” Scarlett’s voice broke, soft and shaking.
He looked up, and what hardness was left in him crumbled. His face was pale beneath the streaks of rain and blood. His voice, when it came, was rough and low. “Are ye hurt?”
She shook her head, unable to speak. Her hands trembled where they were tied.
In two strides, he was at her side, cutting through the ropes. The moment her wrists came free, Scarlett fell forward, and he caught her.
He pulled her close, one arm around her shoulders, the other cradling her head. “Ye’re safe now,” he murmured into her hair, his voice unsteady. “I’ve got ye, love. I’ve got ye.”
Scarlett buried her face against his chest, breathing in the scent of rain and steel and him. “I thought— Her voice cracked.
“I ken,” he said, holding her tighter. “I thought the same.”
The storm still raged outside, but inside the broken hut, there was only their breathing.
When she finally pulled back, her eyes found his arm, blood dark against the torn fabric. “Robert, ye’re hurt.”
He glanced down, brushing it off with a faint smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “A scratch.”
“It’s more than that.” She reached for him, her fingers trembling.
He caught her hand and pressed it to his chest. “I’m fine,” he said softly. “I just needed to see ye breathe again.”
Something in his tone made her throat tighten. “Ye came alone?” “Aye.”
“Ye fool,” she whispered, tears burning in her lashes. “Ye could’ve been killed.”
His mouth curved faintly. “Wouldnae be the first time ye’ve called me that.”
She let out a breath that trembled between laughter and tears. “And it willnae be the last.”
A ghost of a smile crossed his face, but it faded as his gaze drifted to Mack’s body.
Scarlett’s hand touched his cheek. “Ye did what ye had to.” Robert’s jaw clenched. “Aye. But I’ll never take pride in it.”
Thunder rolled softly outside, the storm easing at last. Rain trickled through the broken roof, cooling the air that still smelled of smoke and fear.
He rose and extended his hand. “Come. Let’s get ye home.”
Home. The word hit differently now.
Scarlett took his hand without hesitation. His grip was warm and sure, the only solid thing left in a world still shaking.
When dawn began to break, pale light spilling through the thinning clouds, she finally whispered, “Robert?” “Aye?”
She turned slightly, her voice soft. “Thank ye.”
He didn’t answer right away. His arm tightened around her, his breath warm against her temple. “Ye never have to thank me,” he murmured. “I’ll always come for ye.”
The rain eased to a drizzle, the world washed clean. Gundor's towers rose dark against the dawn ahead of them.
“Why?” she whispered. “Why risk yer life like that? For me?”
