Her wild lavender scent filled his senses, and he closed his eyes, his lips nearly brushing against hers.
“I am starvin’ for ye, Edith,” he murmured. “I have been for a week, and I cannae go on without ye.” His fingers stroked hercheek. “But I willnae stand in the way of the freedom ye seek. If the Lowlands are still yer dream, then I shall?—”
A sob tore from Edith’s throat, and he froze. Her shoulders shook as fresh tears spilled down her cheeks, and he felt his stomach knot painfully.
Surely, I have ruined it.
His hands slipped from her face. He did not know what to do with them.
“Forgive me,” he said quietly, taking a reluctant step back. “I have overstepped.”
Edith looked up at him through tear-filled eyes. “Och, Aaron.” She gave a watery laugh, striking his chest softly with the palm of her hand. “I didnae ask ye to stop.”
Aaron blinked. His gaze searched her face, realization dawning slowly on him. He had mistaken her tears for something else.
Of course.
A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth before disappearing beneath something far more vulnerable.
His hand came over hers, holding it against his chest as he watched her for a moment.
“I have a dream now, Edith,” he said, his thumb brushing away the tears that kept falling. “Ye. So daenae ask me to pretend I wish for anythin’ else.”
Edith stepped forward, resting her head against his chest. Her tears soaked his tunic.
Aaron exhaled as she cried, wrapping his arms around her. He wished there was something more he could do.
“I have always believed home was somewhere far away,” she whispered once she had calmed enough to speak. “A wee cottage. Perhaps in me maither’s village.”
A faint smile touched Aaron’s lips. “I have prepared one for ye.”
Edith shook her head. “It isnae home,” she said softly. “It never was.” She looked up, lifting her hand to his cheek. “Home is… ye.”
Aaron’s breath stuttered, only for a moment.
He had spent fifteen years building walls around himself, strong enough to withstand any storm. He had never once imagined those walls coming down for anyone, let alone a woman who had lived under his roof for as long as he had been Laird. A woman whom he had practically forced into a false betrothal. His sister’s best friend.
And yet here she was, staring into his eyes with a bloodstain on her sleeve, tears shining in her eyes as she looked at him as though he was the safest place she had ever known.
His heart pounded so hard that he thought his chest might split open.
“Marry me,” he said, the words leaving him before he had fully thought to say them, raw and unrehearsed in a way nothing in his life had ever been.
Edith’s breath caught. “Aaron?—”
“Properly,” he said, taking both of her hands in his own. “Nae as a ruse. I am askin’ ye to be me wife. Truly. For the rest of our lives, however long the saints grant us.”
She stared at him, disbelief and joy warring openly across her face.
“Ye swore ye would never marry,” she reminded him, her voice trembling.
“Aye,” Aaron said, a faint, helpless smile tugging at his mouth. “And I have never once broken a vow more gladly than I will break this one.”
A laugh escaped her, broken and joyful all at once, and she melted into him.
“Aye,” she murmured. “Aye, Aaron. I will marry ye.”
He kissed her then, a soft and tender kiss, his hands cradling her face as though she might disappear if he loosened his grip even slightly.
