With a laugh so soft she nearly melted into him, he said, “Aye. I found yer letter.” Then, as his men began to clear out, taking the prisoners and injured back toward the keep, the humor faded, replaced by something sure enough to take her breath away. “But that man forfeited the name of father the day he sold ye.”
For a moment, she wasn’t sure that she’d heard his words correctly. Once she was sure she hadn’t, she searched his face for any signs that he didn’t believe what he’d said. There were no signs of doubt there, nor regret, nor calculation now that he knew her lineage.
When she showed no signs of pulling away, Darragh reached for her hands. His touch was steady and certain. As he threaded their fingers together, she felt as if the ground beneath her feet grew more solid.
“I couldnae tell ye,” she said after a beat, referring toeverything. “He is…” Her gaze flicked to where he lay. “Hewasa dangerous man. I feared what he might do if either of ye kent.” She closed her eyes, waiting for something other than the enduring understanding the Laird offered. “Are ye nae angered that I kept it from ye? Ye heard him. I am a liability.”
Darragh sighed, but he never let go of her. His strong palms tightened around hers. “Ye’re right. Hewasa dangerous man.” He looked down at her, allowing her to see a glimpse of his inner conflict for the first time since he’d arrived. “And aye… I am angered that ye kept somethin’ so important from me.”
Amelia’s heart stuttered. She began to step away, ashamed and defensive, even though she’d been the one to broach the subject. He didn’t let her, though. His grip remained unwavering, and he closed the tiny distance she’d managed to put between them.
“I…” she began, too much happening in her mind to explain herself. Or thank him properly. Or get upset that he was remaining so infuriatingly calm.
“Is what ye wrote in that letter true?” Darragh finally asked, blunt and to the point. He watched her like his entire existence hinged on her answer.
“Aye,” Amelia said without hesitation. It was the only thing she was sure about, and she’d realized it as she was leaving. “I love ye, Darragh. With all me heart.”
She didn’t have time to overthink the implications of saying the words aloud. Nor was she able to be embarrassed at having such feelings known when she’d only just realized them herself. Choosing to answer without words, he pulled her flush against his front. Then, he connected their lips.
It was sure and steady, a direct response to her confession. He went slowly at first, clearly worried about hurting her like he had what felt like a lifetime ago in the great hall. Amelia couldn’t care less about the pain right now.
She let herself sway completely into him, using his solid weight as an anchor in the storm that the day had been. His hands shifted, gingerly grabbing onto her waist. Her own palmstraveled up his arms as she kissed him back, relief mixing with an almost adolescent giddiness.
Wrapping her arms around his neck and holding on with all of the strength she had, Amelia let her lips open. Darragh groaned, a soft noise borne of frustrated restraint. With a growl, he broke the kiss, resting his forehead against hers.
“Ye’re hurt.” It wasn’t a question, and she knew he wouldn’t let her attempt to hide it.
“It’s nae too bad.”
“I daenae care how minor ye think it is,” he said, finally pulling back. He looked her over as if assessing her for unseen injuries. “I will ask Isla to check ye over. We’ll see what she says.”
Amelia laughed, her breath catching as she did. The joy flooded through her, and she felt lighter with each passing second. It wasn’t until her lungs began to ache that her giggles subsided.
“I suppose she is a neutral party, isnae she?” Amelia said, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. “Though she’s a wee bit too strict for me likin’.”
“When it comes to ye, I’m nae takin’ any chances ever again,” he told her, dragging her toward his mare. “Now. Let’s get ye back to the castle.”
* * *
Despite Amelia’s declaration that her injuries weren’t something to be fussed over, Darragh saw the way she winced when he placed her in the saddle.
As carefully as he could, he climbed up behind her. Even though he barely jostled her, he could hear the way she gasped. Something must have happened to her ribs in addition to the new angry marks on her wrists.
“Ye ken there’s nay reason to pretend ye’re nae hurtin’ around me,” he said, reaching around her body to grab onto the reins. “I ken ye’re stronger than some bruises.”
“Ye expect me to be unable to tolerate pain?” she asked as she leaned into him, letting him hold her upright. “They dinnae get a chance to do anythin’ worse than has already been done to me.”
Darragh went quiet, his fists tightening around the leather. Hearing her speak so casually of the event so quickly after it happened filled him with a protective fury. He was glad she was mostly uninjured, but she didn’t have to put on a show for his benefit.
“Nay, I’m nae implyin’ ye cannae handle yer injuries,” he said as he urged the horse to leave the area. He’d send someone to clean up this mess when they got back to the castle; his concern was riding in front of him. “But I’m tellin’ ye that ye daenae have to hide anythin’ from me.”
For several minutes, they rode in relative silence. It was broken only by the sound of the horse’s hooves against the ground and the birds singing in the trees above them. On another day, a ride like this might be restorative.
“I was terrified,” Amelia said finally, the words barely above a whisper. “When I heard that he was makin’ personal visits, I kent he was lookin’ for me.”
Darragh grunted in acknowledgment, giving her space to speak. She didn’t need to know his mind went to the same place right now. He drew his arms in a little tighter, increasing the support he was lending her.
“I thought I’d leave at first,” she continued, her hands tangling in the mare’s mane. “And then I decided I couldnae. I was enjoyin’ me time here. I felt as if I were a part of somethin’ and nae just… a liability.”
