Page 64 of Stealing a Kilted Heart

CHAPTER THIRTY

The stones were cold under Fia’s body. She sat under the window across the door to Knox’s chambers. She rested her chin on her knees, her legs drawn up to her with her arms wrapped around them, her cloak resting over her shoulders, and she looked resolutely forward at the intricate carved patterns on the door rather than the two guards outside it.

They were both restless. Neither of them knew what to do with her, and they had tried to urge her to return to her rooms multiple times, worried that she would be too cold in the middle of the hallway, but she refused to budge. If Knox didn’t want to see her, then she would simply wait for him until he was ready.

She had to try and explain everything to him. She didn’t expect him to forgive her or to go on with the wedding, but she wanted to at least have the chance to apologize for ever hurting him. It had all been so selfish of her, so foolish, gaining his favor just so she could have her revenge. She wished she could take it all back, but it was too late now. All she could do was wait and hope Knox would listen to her, even if just long enough for her to apologize.

She couldn’t even blame Callum for this. It wasn’t his fault. Sooner or later, the truth would have come out and though Fia would rather it would have happened in some other way, more privately, more gently, she was glad it had at least happened before the wedding. It would have been disingenuous of her to go on with it when she had been lying to Knox, even by omission, and so in a way, she was relieved this had happened.

At least now her secret was out in the open and everyone knew the truth.

In front of her, one of the guards shifted his weight nervously from one foot to the other. Fia could sense that he kept glancing at her, but she was neither willing to move nor speak. As long as Knox was in that room, she was determined to stay out there.

In the end, it was that guard who knocked on Knox’s door and disappeared inside. Fia couldn’t hear their conversation from where she sat, but a few moments later, Knox appeared at the door and Fia sat a little straighter, her heart skipping beat after beat.

With a sigh, he approached her and offered her his hand, helping her up before guiding her inside the room. Knox closed the door behind them, and it had hardly shut before the words tumbled past her lips.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I never thought it would get tae this. I understand if ye hate me now but I needed tae apologize tae ye,” she said breathlessly, hiccupping when she managed to pause for a moment. “Ye have every right tae be furious an’… an’ tae send me away, but please, please let Bane stay in the castle. I beg ye. He isnae involved in this.”

With another weary sigh, Knox leaned against the door, letting his head fall against it with a dull thud. He closed his eyes, a hand running through his hair before he opened them again to gaze at Fia.

He seemed to be having some trouble with it, as though he couldn’t bear to look at her, and that, more than anything else, filled her with such grief that she felt as though her chest was collapsing into itself. It was such a real, palpable proof of his own pain, such a mark of her betrayal that she could hardly stand to be confronted by it.

“I want tae ken the truth,” he said, finally meeting her gaze. “All o’ it.”

What was there for Fia to lose by telling him everything? Half of it had already been revealed, after all, and she wanted him to know the whole truth. She wanted him to understand that she didn’t do it out of evil but out of despair and foolishness.

“When Magnus came tae me cottage in Duror, I thought… I thought it was me chance,” she said. “Ye see, I told ye about a man who hurt me. That man was Callum.”

Knox’s eyes widened ever so slightly in surprise, but he must have suspected something, as he wasn’t as shocked as Fia would expect. It was only natural, she thought, considering how Callum had burst into the room, accusing her of taking advantage of everyone and tricking them. She waited for him to say something, but when he remained silent, she continued, forcing herself to keep her gaze steadily on him.

“He… he kept tellin’ me that he would marry me an’ that we would spend the rest o’ our lives together, but in the end, he revealed it was all fer a bet that he had with his friends. All he wanted was tae bed me an’ then leave me. He never once respected me or wished tae be with me because he said I was naethin’ but a poor peasant lass. That I was far beneath him, so I was a fool tae ever think he could love me. So, when Magnus came tae Duror, I thought it was me chance tae prove him wrong. I thought… I dinnae ken what I thought. I thought if ye fell fer me, if I could marry ye, then I would prove him an’ everyone else who doubted me wrong. I would show them I’m nae beneath anyone. I would show them I’m worthy o’… o’ love.”

It may have been in her mind, but Fia could have sworn Knox’s expression softened upon hearing that. It didn’t hurt that it sounded as though the words were being torn out of her, her tone so pained and full of grief that she could hardly recognize her own voice. But Fia wasn’t finished yet. She wanted Knox to know everything.

“But when we were watchin’ the stars, I kent I couldnae dae this tae ye,” she continued. “I wanted tae tell ye the truth. When I came tae ye the other night, I was about tae confess everythin’, but then ye proposed tae me an’… an’ I was so happy, Knox. Nae because I’d prove anyone wrong—I didnae care about that anymore. Because I loved ye… I love ye. Ye cannae imagine the shame I feel fer ever hurtin’ ye, fer ever thinkin’ that deceivin’ ye was a good idea. But I promise ye, me feelings fer ye are real. None o’ it was a lie.”

There was nothing more left in Fia. There was nothing more she could share with him, and she felt as though all the air had left her, her shoulders deflating as she stared at him, waiting for his response. For a long time, he said nothing. He only remained silent, his gaze glued to the floor, his brows stitched together as if deep in thought.

When he finally looked back up at her, he seemed to be unraveling at the seams.

“I believe ye,” he said, much to her relief. “It still hurts an’ I still… I still need tae think about this. But I believe ye an’ I think it took plenty o’ courage fer ye tae come here an’ confess all this tae me.”

Fia didn’t know if she would call it courage. Stubbornness perhaps, and a deep, ingrained need to make sure she didn’t hurt anyone with her actions or, if she did, to lessen the pain as much as she could. But while they were on the matter of deception, there was something else she had to tell Knox.

“There is… there is another thing,” she admitted, and Knox froze like a deer under the eye of a skilled hunter, expecting the worst. “Bane isnae interested in… ye ken… men. I only said it so ye wouldnae fash about him. But I promise ye, he is me braither. I’d never, ever consider him as anything else.”

Knox was stunned at first, frowning as if confused, but then he huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. Some of the tension between them finally dissipated, and despite herself, Fia found herself chuckling as well, covering her face with a hand to hide her blush.

Another foolish thing to have said, she thought. At least Knox didn’t seem to mind so much.

“I see,” he said. “But he never said anythin’.”

“I asked him tae keep silent,” Fia admitted. “An’ he did, although he wasnae pleased and insisted I tell ye the truth.”

Knox nodded slowly, taking in the new information. “Anythin’ else ye’d like tae share?”

“Aye,” she said. “I also hate whisky.”