James exhaled slowly, the tension in his chest easing just a fraction. “I fear it might,” he admitted. “That loving her will only bring her harm.”
Callum shook his head. “Nay,” he said firmly. “Loving her may be the very thing that saves her. Ye’ve already proven what ye’ll do for her.”
James’s mind flickered back to the battlefield, to the moment he had thought he’d lost her, the desperation that had driven him without hesitation. “I cannae lose her,” he murmured.
“Then daenae,” Callum replied simply.
Silence fell once more, though it felt different now, less suffocating. James drew a long breath, something within him settling at last, the pieces of his turmoil beginning to align.
Wanting Eloise is nae weakness, nor is it betrayal. It is somethin' new, somethin' I've long denied meself, somethin' that doesnae diminish Jenny’s memory but honors it.
He straightened, resolve hardening in his chest. “Ye are right,” he said quietly. “I cannae keep running from it.”
Callum gave a small nod. “Then daenae.”
James’s gaze drifted once more to the window, but this time his thoughts were clearer, steadier.
“I will see this through,” he said, more to himself than to Callum. “Nay more half measures.”
Callum’s lips curved faintly. “Aye,” he said. “That sounds more like the Laird I ken.”
James allowed himself the smallest hint of a smile, though his eyes remained thoughtful. For the first time in years, the path before him did not feel like a burden to bear, but a choice to be made, and he knew, without doubt, which path he would take.
Eloise.
I should be relieved, that the danger has passed and the truth is laid bare, yet something within me refuses to quiet.
Eloise wandered alone through the castle gardens, her fingers brushing absently over the soft petals of late-blooming roses as her thoughts tangled upon themselves. The air was cool and sweet, yet her heart felt restless, unsettled by all that had come to pass.
“What am I to do with meself now?” she murmured softly, glancing toward the distant hills. “Everythin' has changed… and yet I feel as though I stand at the edge of somethin' I cannae yet see.”
She let out a small breath, pressing her hand to her chest as if to steady the strange flutter there.
“Eloise!” came a voice, sharp with urgency, breaking through her thoughts like a stone through still water. She turned quickly, to see James running toward her.
Her brow furrowed in confusion at the sight of him, his expression intense and unreadable.
“James?” she said, her voice soft with surprise. “What troubles ye so that ye come runnin’ like the hounds are at yer heels?”
He slowed as he reached her, breath slightly uneven, his gaze fixed entirely upon her as though nothing else in the world existed.
He stopped before her, close enough that she could feel the heat of him, and for a moment he simply stared, as if gathering courage.
“I cannae keep silent any longer,” he said at last.
Eloise’s heart skipped, her pulse quickening under his gaze. “Ye deserve truth, nae half-measures and guarded words.”
She searched his face, uncertainty flickering in her eyes. “What is it ye mean, me Laird?” she asked, though her voice trembled slightly.
James stepped closer still, his hand lifting as though to reach for her before he caught himself.
“I have fallen for ye, Eloise,” he said, the words coming with a force that seemed to surprise even him. “It wasnae meant to be so. Ye were to be under me protection, nothin' more, and yet ye have become everythin'.”
Eloise’s breath caught sharply, her lips parting in disbelief. “Ye… ye have?” she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath.
“Aye,” he replied, his eyes softening, “and I cannae deny it any longer, nor do I wish to.”
She felt warmth rush through her, sudden and overwhelming, as though the very earth had shifted beneath her feet.
