Page 45 of Stealing a Kilted Heart

“Ye fought fer yer people,” Fia reminded him. “Without an armor, without anythin’ but a sword. I heard Laird Gordon wasnae at the attack. That is the sign o’ a laird who is incapable, nae the fact that ye trusted someone with a mission. Ye did what ye thought was best at the time. An’ then, when the time came, ye fought bravely.”

Fia’s words were like a balm to his aching soul, but even so, Knox couldn’t believe her entirely. It was true that he had fought, just as any laird should. It was true that he had not hesitated and thrown himself into the fight for his people, but did that make him a good laird or a good soldier? What good was bravery if he couldn’t make the right strategic choices?

“I always fear that I dae the wrong thing,” Knox admitted in a quiet voice. It was the first time he had spoken those words out loud, but they rang truer than any other words he had ever spoken. “There are so many choices I must make… so many people tae protect. The entire clan looks tae me fer guidance an’ protection, an’ half the time, I dinnae even ken what I’m doin’.”

Fia snorted, her reaction so sudden and unexpected.

“O’ course ye ken what ye’re doin’,” she said. “Just like I ken what I dae when I take care o’ people’s wounds. I dinnae need tae think about it. With ye, when they brought ye tae me after ye were wounded, I thought I’d freeze an’ be useless, but me hands kent what tae dae without me thinkin’ about it. I simply did it. It’s the same fer ye. Ye like tae overthink everythin’, but that doesnae mean ye dinnae ken what ye’re doin’.”

Her words pulled Knox out of his pit of despair for a moment, giving him some much needed clarity.

It was an observation so astute that once again, Knox couldn’t help but push his doubts aside and consider it. It was true that he had been prepared for this role his entire life. His father had raised him by his side, taking him to meetings, explaining strategy to him, and giving him the best tutors to guide him through his formative years. Perhaps Fia was right; perhaps he didn’t need to overthink anything because he already had the foundations necessary for him to make the right decisions.

For a while, they were both silent, Fia watching him as he stared at the ceiling of his bed, his gaze tracing the intricate hunting motifs carved into the dark wood. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet, fond.

“Me faither was a great man an’ a great laird,” he said. “He was taken too soon. He an’ me maither both.”

“I’m sorry,” said Fia, her tone flooding with sympathy. Knox could only imagine what it must have been like for her to be abandoned by both her parents. His may have been long gone, but he had always known they loved him dearly. “I wish I could have met them.”

“They would have adored ye,” Knox said as he reached for her once more and pulled her in for a kiss. Fia sighed softly against his lips, hers soft and dry, her mouth tasting just the barest hint of honey. He, too, wished his parents could have met her. Perhaps if he had had their approval, he wouldn’t have been so reluctant to tell his council that she was the woman he loved.

And love her he did. It had taken a near-death experience for him to admit it to himself, but he couldn’t deny it anymore. He adored Fia in a way he had never thought possible. He knew he didn’t know her well enough and yet he felt as if he’d known her his whole life. His love for her transcended everything else—their origins, the opinions of others, his duty to wed a powerful woman. Clan Stuart was powerful enough on its own and their allies, those they had already secured, were more than enough. He didn’t need to wed a noble-born girl just to gain more power and influence. It wouldn’t be fair to him and it wouldn’t be fair to whoever would be chosen as his bride, for his heart could never truly belong to her.

“Sometimes I think I will never be even a fraction o’ the man me faither was,” Knox admitted through a knot in his throat. It was a thought which plagued him often. Ever since his father’s death and his ascension to the lairdship, he went to sleep with that thought in mind every single night, doubting himself and his abilities. “Everyone loved him an’ fer good reason. He always kent what tae dae an’ he always kept the peace. The years he spent as the laird o’ Clan Stuart were the most peaceful years the clan has seen, an’ then, when I become the laird, we have our first battle in decades.”

“Knox,” Fia said, once again assuming that stern tone that he had never heard her use before. It reminded him of Effie and the way she spoke when she needed to be heard in a room of stubborn men. “This wasnae yer fault. Ye’re nae the one who initiated the attack. Ye’re the one who ended it.”

It was a comfort, but a small one. Knox couldn’t help but wish he had done something to prevent the attack in the first place—and all those deaths.

“How many men died? Dae ye ken?” he asked a little reluctantly, dreading the answer.

“Thirty-two o’ our own,” said Fia quietly. “An’ many more are severely wounded.”

So there may be more casualties.

“The Gordon forces were decimated,” said Fia then, looking at him straight in the eyes. “An’ it’s all because o’ the army ye have built. It’s all because ye did yer job well.”

As she spoke, she leaned in for another kiss and that, more than any words, was a comfort like no other. If a woman like Fia, someone who was so pure and so kind, could kiss him like this, then that was all the proof he needed that he, too, was a good man.