Chapter 24

Chapter 24

Lachlan sat high on the hidden perch where archers would be positioned in case of attack, his legs dangling from the edge as he watched out over the grounds. He saw when the doors burst open and Jocelyn rushed out into the gardens, calling his name, over and over. Part of him longed to go to her, to apologize for running and explain, but he held himself back. She would never find him here, perched high on the platform in the trees, and that was how it should be. Jocelyn was the sun, and he was the Wraith, a shadow—never meant for her light.

"Lachlan, get yer arse out here!"

He almost chuckled at her brazen cursing—very unladylike of her, in a way that he found most endearing. He'd come to learn that Jocelyn only seemed passive and meek; in reality, when her passions were lit, she was fire itself.

And, well, had she not just proven that before James' whole council with that powerful, impassioned speech? Had she not just shown them what he saw every time he looked at her? She was a woman whose heart was as true as her beauty, a woman who held untold strength that no man of them could match even if they tried.

She was the woman who had stolen his heart. The space where it had once been ached in his chest, burning and consuming, screaming at him to go to her side. But though it hurt—and God, it hurt —he ignored it, his will stronger than the pain. For it was because he loved her that he had to stay away.

He was a man who had come from nothing and spent his whole life trying to hide it. He had pretended his mother and sister did not exist so as to escape his own shame. He was born from nothing and rose to where he was on a willing, shameful lie. Perhaps he had reasons, maybe even good ones, but it didn't change who he was; a poor boy in a rich man's clothing, drowning in his own exposed shame.

Once she knew the whole story, she'd know who he really was. Any wrong-headed notions she had of returning his affections would vanish into the aether. It was better for her if he stayed away, better for her if he spared her all of that. She was a noblewoman, a brave, kind soul who would learn and grow and find a love that she deserved. Lachlan was not and would never be that love, he knew it. And so he would keep his distance—for her sake.

He watched her for a long time, perhaps almost an hour, before she let out a sigh of frustration and called out into the seemingly-empty gardens, "Why are ye doin' this? Why willnae ye just talk tae me?"

There was no answer but the birds. Lachlan closed his eyes, regret and sadness threatening to overwhelm him. When he opened them again, she was gone, back inside to the castle and her family.

He sat there for some time after that, alone and just contemplating what came next. His mind briefly flicked to his family, and he knew that was another thing he would have to deal with soon, but not yet. Right now, his every thought returned to Jocelyn, and he could not deal with both things at the same time. At least he knew that his mother and sister were safe, lodging in the home of the stablemaster's family—the one man that Lachlan trusted almost as much as he trusted James himself. He'd go to them soon, but first, he needed to find a way to make his heart stop bleeding every time he saw Jocelyn's smile. First, he needed to regain control of himself.

"What are ye doin'?"

The voice snapped Lachlan from his reverie, and he turned his head to see James clambering up the ladder to join him on the platform of the perch. The Laird expertly pulled himself up over the edge then crossed the short distance to sit next to his friend.

"I kenned that I'd find ye up here," James said, placing a friendly hand on his arm. "Ye've nae changed since we were lads, in so many ways."

"Well, nae all of us are meant tae be Lairds and husbands and fathers," Lachlan told him with a tired smile. "Ye've done all the changin' for both of us."

James tilted his head, giving him a considered look that was so piercing that Lachlan broke eye contact, feeling unaccountably embarrassed.

"What's that look for?" he demanded.

"Well, nae all of us are meant tae be Lairds, maybe, I'll allow ye that much," James said at last. "But husbands and fathers? Why would ye nae follow me in that regard? I think ye'd do a fine job on both things."

Lachlan snorted, looking back up at his friend. "A fine job! I couldnae even do a fine job of being a son , never mind the others."

"Nonsense. I will nae be the one who pushes this, me friend, because it isnae me place, but I will ask ye one thing. Why did ye flee after the meetin'?"

Lachlan didn't answer.

"I think it may be related to what we're speakin' of now, eh?" James pressed. "About where our fates have led us and will lead from now?"

Shaking his head a little too emphatically, Lachlan retorted, "What are ye sayin'? Ye just said ye wouldnae push this."

"True. I did," James allowed, holding up his hands. "But answer me one question—nae as yer Laird, nor even as yer friend, but as the brother ye've always been in me heart. Will ye be truthful with me, in this one regard?"

Lachlan felt his stomach tighten. He knew that whatever James was going to ask was not a question he wanted to answer—but he also knew that it was a request he could not deny. "Ask."

"Why are ye runnin' from yer feelin's for Jocelyn?" James asked, staring directly at Lachlan. "Why will ye nae accept what yer heart is tellin' ye?"

"I dinnae have feelin's for Jocelyn."

"Liar."

"James, I dinnae?—"

"Look in me eyes and swear tae me, then," James said steadily. "Meet me eyes, friend tae friend, brother tae brother, and swear tae me that yer heart isnae yearning for Jocelyn right now."

Lachlan tried. He really did. But he could only meet James' gaze for a moment before he turned his head away sharply and mumbled, "Did Blair send ye tae ask me?"

James chuckled. "Nay, but she did tell me that Jocelyn has been speakin' of ye fairly incessantly. The lass isnae afraid of her heart, so why are ye so afraid of yer own?"

"Ye cannae…I'm nae ye, James. Ye won Blair's love and ye deserved it, and I'm happy that ye did so. But I…Jocelyn deserves so much more than a man like me. God above, the man she believed I was when I met her, a man with nay family, doesnae even exist!"

"Insurmountable, that sort of thing, isnae it?" James said, a gentle sarcasm in his tone. "After all, Blair never forgave me when she discovered I was actually the son of a Laird."

"It's different," Lachlan insisted.

"How?"

"It just…is. It's better for Jocelyn tae find a Laird, or a councilman, or someone with rank and stature tae take care of her properly. Me only offerin' is me skill with a blade. What noble lass would want a killer with only his wages tae his name for a husband?"

"Ye're nae a killer, nae unless ye have tae be," James replied firmly. "Ye're a protector. A guardian. And a good man. And ye ask what kind of woman would want ye? Why, the same kind of woman who stood before a council of men and spoke the truth that many could nae see. The same kind of woman who fought with a weapon tae protect herself and ye. The same woman who left the safety of her sisters and risked her life tae come tae yer side."

Lachlan didn't speak. He couldn't.

"I will nae tell ye what tae do, Lachlan," James said quietly. "But ken this. Blair is me life, me heart, me soul. She's everythin' that makes the world good—her and our bairns, of course. And I want nothin' more than tae see ye with that kind of happiness, too. Dinnae run from it. Yer heart is speakin' tae ye. For once in yer life, listen tae it. Dinnae live a life of regret."

They sat in silence for a long time after that, listening to the chirping of the birds and the wind in the trees as morning wore on.

At last, Lachlan said, "What if ye're wrong?"

James shook his head. "Maybe I am. But I ken she cares for ye, and I ken ye care for her. If ye dinnae try, how will we ever ken one way or the other?"

"But what if I'm nae meant tae?—"

James interrupted, gripping his friend's shoulder. "A wise friend once told me, Lachlan, that there is nae 'meant'. We're masters of our own fates."

Lachlan stared, shocked to hear his own words thrown back at him.

James grinned. "Now go out there and make it."

Lachlan walked through the gardens with his heart in his throat, feeling more nervous than he ever remembered being in his life. Deirdre had told him, with a knowing smile on her young face, exactly where Jocelyn would be, and so he'd set off to finally speak to her. He didn't expect much from the conversation, but he knew that he'd hurt her by staying away, and he needed to, at the very least, put that right.

James' words from a few days ago echoed in his ears, but Lachlan tried his best to ignore them, at least for the moment. He needed to approach Jocelyn with no expectations—and after that, well, who knew what would come next.

He found her next to the little pond, resting on a stone bench, a book in her hands. She didn't notice him approaching at first, clearly engrossed in whatever she was reading, but she looked up in surprise when he sat down next to her.

"Lachlan," she breathed, and it was hard to tell if she was happy or angry to see him after he'd kept his distance for so long.

"Jocelyn," he replied. He glanced at the book in her hands as she placed the ribbon and closed it over. " The Book of the City of Ladies, eh?"

"It's a translation," Jocelyn explained, "From the original French. I found it in Blair's library. It was written by a woman, ye ken, named Christine de Pizan. She was a court writer for King Charles in France. She's got some very interestin' ideas about the power a woman can have."

"Is that so?" Lachlan asked. He hesitated, then said, "Well, she's obviously got a point. I saw for meself what power a woman can have with that speech ye gave the other day. I suppose this de Pizan was nae the only one who kenned the power of words."

Jocelyn blushed, and when she did, Lachlan could not help but be mesmerized by the sweetness it brought to her face. She truly was a beautiful young woman. When her cheeks reddened, he saw a small white line where a cut to her face had marked her during their battles. Perhaps it would heal entirely, or perhaps it would scar and stay there forever, but Lachlan thought it only made her more bonnie, a testament to the strength that lay beneath her fine features.

"I said what I believed and nay more than that," Jocelyn replied. She paused, then said, "Do ye think I was right? Essentially I started a war."

"Bram started that war the moment he attacked Whisperer's Rest," Lachlan replied firmly. "All ye did was inspire our men tae take heart in the face of adversity. Ye did well, and ye should be proud of yerself."

She gave him a genuine smile, and his heart swelled with happiness. "Thank ye," she said. "That means somethin'. A lot, actually, comin' frae ye."

There was a small break then in the conversation, each lost in their own thoughts, before Jocelyn spoke again.

"Yesterday, when I was visitin' Lightning in the stables, I ran into Gracie from the village. She told me she and her mother are stayin' with the stablemaster for a few more weeks until they figure out where tae go next."

Lachlan heard the unspoken question in her voice and let out a small sigh. He knew it had been a little naive, but he had hoped to avoid this topic for just a little longer. On the other hand, it would be good to talk about it. Regardless of his intentions, he knew now that he'd done wrong hiding away the truth about his family for all of these years—and it seemed fitting that it would be to Jocelyn that he set those truths free at last.

"I'm glad me mother and sister survived the chaos alive and well," he answered. "And that the stablemaster was kind enough tae take them in. Whatever happens next, I'll ensure they've somewhere warm and safe tae live, dinnae ye worry about that."

Jocelyn nodded and smiled, but there was a troubled look in her eyes. "Why did ye lie, Lachlan? Are ye nae close tae yer family? Why would ye deny they existed? Were ye ashamed?"

"I…" he started, then shook his head. There was no point in hiding anything anymore, especially not to her. "I was ashamed, aye, but never of them. I…Oh, it's complicated."

She placed her hand over his, her eyes wide as she watched him. "We're in nae rush. Tell me. I'm listenin'."

And so he did. He told her the whole story—about being a boy who watched siblings die from sickness and hunger. About the crops failing and his sisters being born. About his father leaving to fight and never returning, and about how he had followed in his footsteps, and the terrible words he and his mother had exchanged before he'd left for what he thought was forever.

"I never saw wee Faith again. She died nae too long after," Lachlan finished, and his voice came out heavy and rough. To his surprise, there was wetness on his cheeks, and he realized that he must have been crying at some point. He'd never cried for his sister before, nor for his father, nor his lost brothers. But here and now, in front of Jocelyn, it felt right and natural to finally allow himself to grieve. "And I was sure…I was sure me mam would never want tae see me again. I didnae deserve tae…I…"

Jocelyn moved, and suddenly she was holding him, his head resting against her shoulder as she embraced him. He held her and wept, truly vulnerable for the first time, and at long, long last allowed himself to silently say goodbye. Goodbye to Jamie, to John, to Faith, and to all the babies whose names he'd never known. Goodbye to his father, who'd wanted nothing but a better life for his wife and children.

And goodbye to something inside himself, too. Guilt eased from his shoulders at long last as Jocelyn held him, guilt and pain and fear, and the barriers around his heart loosened at last.

After some time, he straightened up, clearing his throat, his eyes dry once more. He did not try to excuse his weeping, nor show embarrassment. He knew that she did not judge him for his grief, knew that even though he was a man who had never really cried, Jocelyn had given him the space to let out this pain at last.

"Thank ye," he whispered. "Jocelyn, thank ye."

"I want tae be here for ye," Jocelyn told him. "I want ye tae be able tae feel whatever ye need tae, even if that means sorrow and tears. I want ye tae ken that ye're safe tae be yerself with me, just as I finally feel free tae be meself whenever I'm by yer side."

"I thought I'd never feel love, or deserve tae be loved in turn," he told her. "I thought me heart was cold forever. Until I met ye, Jocelyn. Until I realized me heart still beats, and there is still hope for me."

She smiled at him, that beautiful smile, and there were tears in her eyes now too. "I've been waitin' for ye tae say so," she told him. "I love ye, Lachlan. I love ye with all me heart, and ye deserve every drop of it. Will ye allow yerself tae accept that at last?"

"And I love ye," he told her, and the words came as easily as breathing. But there was still one thing. "But…I'm still nae the kind of man who's meant for a woman like ye. Ye're the daughter and niece and now sister-in-law of Lairds. Born and raised a lady. But I'm still a poor lad who was raised up by bein' a fighter, and nae more than that. Can I really be considered a fair match for one such as ye?"

Jocelyn considered him for a moment, and he was pleased that she did not dismiss him out of hand. No matter how much they loved each other, and he believed now that they did, this was something they needed to deal with. But then she smiled at him and tapped her book.

"In these stories," she said, "de Pizan explains that a 'lady' is nae a woman of noble birth, but instead one of noble spirit. I tend tae agree with her, Lachlan, and with that definition, ye're tenfold the nobleman that men like me late uncle or Bram will ever be. And that's more than enough for me."

His heart jumped in his chest, and he pulled her close. She threw her arms around his neck, and they met in a brief but full kiss, a sweet, gentle, passionate kiss that sealed their promise to each other at last.

When they broke apart, he said, "Marry me."

She replied, "I thought ye'd never ask."

And then they held each other, their lips joined once again, together under the bright light of the sun.