Page 48 of The Highlander’s Iron Hold

She moved closer, gently placing her hands on his shoulders to hold him still. "I'm here," she murmured softly. "Ye're safe. I'm here."

His eyes flew open with a strangled gasp, wild and unfocused for a moment before they found her face in the dim moonlight. His chest heaved as if he'd been running, and she could see the terror still lingering in his expression.

"I’m here, dinnae fash," Morag said gently, her hand moving to cup his cheek.

Colin stared at her for a long moment, as if trying to remember where he was. When he finally spoke, his voice was raw and broken. "Me sister."

Morag waited, not pushing, simply offering her presence as an anchor in whatever storm was raging inside him.

"When I was nine, and Kathleen was six," Colin began haltingly, "we were taken by Clan Kinnaird. Me faither's enemy." His hands clenched into fists against the bedding. "They kept us in a dungeon fer over a year. Tortured us."

Morag's heart clenched, but she remained silent, sensing it was something he'd never spoken aloud before.

"I tried tae protect her," Colin continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "Every night, I'd stay awake, make sure they focused on me instead of her. But then one night..." His breath hitched. "Me body gave out. I was so tired, so weak. I fell asleep."

Tears gathered in Morag's eyes as she watched the pain etched across his features.

"When I woke up, they were..." He couldn't finish the sentence, his voice breaking completely. "I held her while she died. Held her tiny body until it went cold." He looked at Morag with eyes that held years of anguish. "Every night, the nightmares bring me back tae that moment. Watching her take her last breath because I failed her."

"Oh, Colin," Morag breathed, her heart breaking for the tortured child he'd been. Everything suddenly making sense. "I'm so sorry. God above, that's not something any child should have tae endure." She reached out to cup his face with trembling hands. "And it wasnae yer fault. Ye were just a wee lad trying tae protect his sister. Ye did everything ye could."

"I should have done more," Colin said brokenly. "Should have stayed awake, should have⁠—"

"Ye were only a child," Morag interrupted firmly, her thumbs stroking across his cheekbones. "A child, tortured and starved. The fact that ye survived at all is a miracle. The fact that ye tried so hard tae protect her... that shows the kind of man ye truly are."

Colin looked at her for a long moment. She could see how desperately he wanted to believe her words.

"So ye take the sleeping potion tae keep away the nightmares?" she asked gently, her voice full of understanding now.

Colin nodded. "It's a sleeping draught. Without it, I'd run on maybe two hours of sleep a night. The nightmares... they never stop. I see her face, hear her calling fer me, feel her blood on me hands..." His voice turned bitter with self-recrimination. "But if I hadnae taken it the other night, ye never would have been kidnapped. I failed ye just like I failed her."

"Nay," Morag said firmly, shifting so she could cradle his head against her chest, her fingers threading through his dark hair. "Ye didnae fail anyone. Nae her, and nae me. Ye were a child who tried tae protect his sister against grown men, monsters. And the other night... Colin, ye saved me. Ye found me and brought me home. That's nae failure."

Colin's arms went around her waist, holding her tight as if she might disappear. His voice was muffled against her nightgown when he spoke. "But I should have anticipated Fraser's attack, I should have been more vigilant. Should have⁠—"

"Should have what? Stayed awake every night fer the rest of yer life?" Morag's voice was gentle but insistent. "Colin, ye can't protect everyone from everythin’. That burden will destroy ye if ye let it."

"I couldnae bear it if something happened tae ye because of me weakness," he whispered against her skin.

"Needing sleep isn't a weakness," Morag said firmly, her fingers continuing their soothing motion through his hair. "It's human. And those nightmares... they're not weakness either. They're proof that ye loved yer sister, that ye still carry her with ye. Ye're the strongest man I ken," Morag whispered, pressing her lips to the top of his head. "Nae because ye never feel pain or fear, but because ye carry so much and still find ways tae care fer others. Ye're nae that helpless boy anymore, Colin. Ye're a man who commands armies, who protects his people, who risked everything tae save his wife."

Colin pulled back to look at her, his eyes searching her face in the moonlight. For the first time since he'd begun his confession, she could see hope flickering there alongside the pain.

"How can ye be so certain?" he asked quietly. "How can ye look at me and nae see the failure?"

"Because I see the truth," Morag replied simply. "I see a man who's spent his whole life tryin’ tae make up fer something that was never his fault tae begin with. I see someone who's been carryin’ guilt that belongs tae the monsters who hurt ye both, nae tae the child who loved his sister."

A wall crumbled between them as the words settled into the space around them. When Colin leaned forward, she met him halfway, their lips coming together in a kiss that was desperate and tender and full of everything they couldn't yet say aloud.

Their lips crashed together with all the desperate longing they'd been holding back. Colin's hand tangled in her hair, pulling her closer as Morag's fingers dug into his shoulders. The kiss was hungry, almost fierce, born of shared trauma and the raw honesty of the night. She could taste the salt of tears on his lips, feel the tremor in his hands as they framed her face.

When she parted her lips, Colin groaned low in his throat, the sound sending heat coursing through her veins. His mouth moved against hers with increasing urgency, as if he were drowning and she was his only salvation. Morag pressed herself closer, wanting to erase every nightmare, every moment of pain he'd endured.

It was Colin who finally pulled back, his breathing ragged, his forehead resting against hers.

Morag felt her cheeks burn with the realization that if Colin had not stopped, she would have continued kissing him. For some reason she felt ready for the next stage of their marriage. And the way Colin looked at her—like she was something precious and dangerous all at once—told her he wanted it just as much as she did.

"Morag," he whispered roughly. Her name sounded like a prayer on his lips.