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“Alisdair!”

“What? Ye got nothin’ but opinions since ye arrived outside me gates. Ye proposed to me, for goodness’ sake!”

She chuckled, only for the memories of the abuse she had endured in Sinclair Castle to flood back again, stealing her breath. Both fell silent for a while, savoring the food.

“I ken what it’s like to feel the unbearable pain of loss,” Alisdair said eventually.

Isla felt the full weight of those words settle over them both.

“I still remember that night,” he continued, looking out the window at the bright sky. “The castle was so silent.”

She instinctively reached for him, feeling the pain resurfacing.

“I had gone to meet some chiefs that day. Me faither said it was me duty as a future Laird to take care of clan affairs, but me maither said it had been a while since we traveled together. And Catherine…”

Isla swallowed at the mention of his late wife.

“Catherine soon wouldnae be able to travel, and she wanted to go see her cabin before that.” He frowned. “She didnae pressure me, didnae make demands. She wasnae like that.”

He looked at her, and for one fleeting moment, Isla feared she would come up short beside the memory of his quieter, gentler wife. But his gaze held nothing like comparison, only a need for her to understand. And she did. All the pain he carried inside. All the guilt.

“I should have gone with them,” he said, shivering.

“Alisdair…”

“I was in me study, finishing work. Work that I thought was more important. Then I sensed it. I heard the horses come in but nothing else. Absolute silence. Nae me faither’s thundering voice. Nae me maither gossiping with me aunt, or the hustle of servants preparing rooms.”

Isla swallowed in an effort to hold back her tears. This was his time to talk, and she wouldn’t take it away from him.

“Just silence,” she said softly.

He curled his fingers around hers, as if her touch grounded him.

Isla really didn’t want to hear more, but at the same time, there was something liberating about sharing pain. And if that was what he needed, she was going to give it to him.

“Me life changed when I opened the door to me study. Before, I was the son of a laird, husband to a wife, faither to an unborn child. After…”

Isla felt a tear roll down her cheek, pain for him, for herself, spilling over.

“And just like that, I became the Laird. I wasnae even given a moment to mourn. Me people needed a leader to ward off those who thought to take advantage of their grief.”

Isla nodded. Both of them had done what they had to do. They had buried who they were, how they felt, to survive. But she had only ever had herself to think of. She couldn’t begin to imagine what it must have felt like for him, holding an entire clan together, so many people leaning on his strength alone.

“I swore on their graves that I would never allow anyone to make me feel this weak. I thought…” He looked at her, almost guilty.

She smiled at him. She knew. She knew what he had sacrificed to be the laird everyone needed. She too had sacrificed herself, her dignity, her identity. But here they were.

“I thought being attached to someone made me weak, Isla.”

The words made her chest ache.

“Well,” she said, “ye were right to worry.”

Alisdair blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Sittin’ here, with half yer breakfast gone cold, lettin’ a lass see ye weep like a bairn,” she said, trying to keep a straight face.

For a moment, Isla was terrified that she was too quick to lighten the mood. Then his mouth twitched.