Chapter 18

It would have been so easy for Ian to lose himself in that moment, to toss aside all sense of responsibility and duty and just give into these feelings for her. Lucy had opened a part of his heart that he thought had been sealed with a scar. At first, it had hurt, and he knew the hurting wasn't over yet, but the sweetness of her kisses and affection more than made up for it.

He only wished that it would have lasted forever.

He kissed her hungrily, knowing that soon enough he would never have the chance to kiss her again. He wanted to drink in every part of her, to make every kiss last that little bit longer, if only to trick himself into thinking that his wretched life might be imbued with some sliver of happiness.

But then, he pulled away.

Her cheeks were flushed with happiness, her eyes sparkled with desire. She melted in his arms, and he was stiff with arousal. It seeped out of every pore and permeated the air. She reached forward, trying to catch his lips in hers again, but this time he leaned back. She smiled and purred, before kissing his neck. He closed his eyes, losing himself to the feeling of her body, how soft it was, how perfectly it pressed against his, as though she had been created to fill the missing parts of him.

"Let's gae back tae the forge," she whispered.

He shook his head. "Ye stay here. Enjoy the fair. There's something I hae tae take care of back at the shop. Keep an eye on Rory and make sure he dinnae get intae any trouble."

"I'm nae sure I can dae that. How can I save him from trouble if I cannae save myself?" she giggled, and coyly smiled at him.

How Ian wanted to tear everything asunder and do as she asked, to take her back with him and keep her there forever, but no, that wouldn't have been fair. There were some things a man needed to do alone, even when it was going to hurt more deeply than any other wound he had ever endured.

He peeled himself away from her, ignoring the frantic emotions inside him, the screaming urges of his body. There was a whisper in the back of his mind telling him to reconsider, crying out that he should stay with her and give into these desires that made his blood feel like fire. But no, he needed to be strong and resolute.

"I promise I will come and find ye when I am done," he said, hating how bitter the lie tasted upon his lips. He kissed her again and she returned to the crowd, losing herself to the music. He stayed there for a few moments, enjoying how happy and carefree she looked. This was how she deserved to live. She was a spirited girl and should not have been condemned to a lifetime of skulking around the dark corners of the world. She was like the sun, and how could the sun ever be trapped. Her radiant glory should be freed, liberated, spilling out to touch everyone else as she had the uncanny ability to make other people happy, to touch their souls just as she had touched his. He had been lost before she had found him, a wretched man with a wretched life, yet with her, he had rediscovered something beautiful, something he had thought died a long time ago along with the rest of his family.

It hadn't died at all. It had merely lain dormant within him, like a seed waiting for the right drop of water to help it grow. And grow it had, to alarming degrees, and he was incapable of stopping it.

It was just a shame that he would never see it to its natural conclusion. He wished above everything that he could have stayed with Lucy and built a life with her, but she could not be held within a basement. She did not deserve to live her life always looking over her shoulder, always worried that one day her father was going to track her down and drag her back to the keep, ready to put her under his heel again. He had not been able to save his mother, his sister, or even his father. One by one they had fallen prey to the whims of the world and he hated himself for it. But, if he could do one thing with his life, one good thing, then it would be to save her.

He turned his back slowly, and with each footstep, he had to focus his discipline because it would have been so easy to abandon this path he was about to walk, to run back, sweep her into his arms, and pretend that things would have been wonderful forever.

But, it would have been a lie. Darkness loomed over them, and it was partly his fault. He wanted to do right by her and Rory. In his mind's eye, he could see his family looking at him with pity, wondering how he had fallen so far. He wasn't the man his parents had wanted him to be, and he had lost a sense of joy after his sister had died. He had lost so much, and now he was about to lose it all again. Damn life, damn the twisting fortunes of fate that always left him bereft and helpless.

He returned to his shop. It was eerily quiet, just as it had been before Rory had come along. He had been glad when they had gone for a walk earlier. It gave him a chance to prepare things properly. He opened the basement hatch and descended the stairs. The distillery had been disassembled and packed into crates. One by one, he carried them up the stairs and placed them in a cart outside. His steadfast horse waiting, its tail flicking idly. Ian worked up a sweat going back and forth like this, but eventually, he had carried it all out and then stretched a tarpaulin over it, protecting it from the prying eyes of anyone who was too inquisitive for their own good. It had served him well, but now it was time to pack it all away.

Lucy deserved a better life than what he could give her.

He wore a dark look as he stood in the forge for the last time, thinking about all the memories that had been built here. He remembered himself as a small child, racing around the place when his father had been trying to teach him about the forge. His mother had scolded his father, saying that there was plenty of time for Ian to learn about the forge as he got older. He was just a boy, he needed to play. Perhaps even then, his mother had sensed that his life would be stained with sorrow and that he needed to appreciate the good times while they lasted, for they were only fleeting. He had certainly done so with Lucy.

As he strolled through the house, he came to her room and found a scarf that she occasionally wore. He brought it to his nose and inhaled deeply. It was heavy with her scent. It brought forth a myriad of feelings, and he wasn't ready to let her go entirely. He stuffed it in his pocket. While he wouldn't be able to bring her with him, he could at least bring a part of her.

He smiled as he thought about her clumsy attempts to clean the house, but how quick she had been with the distillery. He had no doubt that she would find happiness in her life. Why her father wanted to waste her talents by marrying some useless man he would never understand. Hamish Glennrock may have been the Laird's advisor, but it seemed wrong for him to want to dim the flame of his daughter, to diminish her essence. Wherever she ended up, Ian hoped that she would be allowed to flourish, and that the people around her would appreciate her.

The same was true for Rory as well. He was a good lad, albeit too trusting for this kind of world. He should have turned away from Ian as soon as Ian revealed the true nature of his illegal enterprise, but Rory had stayed, taking pity on him. Rory had it in him to be not only a great blacksmith, but a great man as well.

Before he left, Ian fetched some parchment and a quill. He wrote two letters, one for Rory, and one for Lucy. Words could not fully describe the depth of his feelings and he knew that what was written on the page would not do justice to all he wanted to share with them, but he hoped that it would be enough for them. He sealed the letters in envelopes and left them on the counter, alongside two pouches, ready for Rory and Lucy to find when they returned. He knew that Lucy would be angry, and Rory would be disappointed. He hoped they would understand why he needed to do this. They were still young, still with their whole lives ahead of them, and he wanted to make sure their lives were filled with promise and opportunity. After this, Lucy could go wherever she wanted, free of suspicion, and Rory could prove himself the finest blacksmith in the Highlands.

As for Ian, well, he would face the consequences of his actions and bear the weight of responsibility. He would take yet more pain upon his shoulders because he knew he had the strength to endure it. Lucy was right when she said that everyone ultimately had a choice, and this was the choice he was making.

He fetched some food from the kitchen to fill his stomach on his journey and then, just as he was about to leave, he heard a mew from behind him. Ginger jumped up onto the table and looked at him with wide eyes. Ginger mewed again, a plaintive sound. The tail was upright, and Ginger prowled around the table insistently. Ian frowned at the cat, and then muttered under his breath.

"Alright, I will feed ye before I gae," he said, and filled a bowl with some meat. Ginger jumped down and feasted on the meal, devouring it almost instantly. Ginger then looked up at Ian again and slunk between his legs. Ian allowed himself a chuckle. "Aye, I suppose I will even miss ye as well," he sank down and petted Ginger between the ears. A purring sound filled the kitchen. Ian sighed. "I suppose if I cannse say goodbye tae them properly, I will sae goodbye tae ye. Take care of this place. It hae been good tae me over the years. I hope it will be good for ye as well," Ian said.

Then, he rose and he strode outside. Ginger followed him all the way to the doorstep and then stayed there, staring at Ian. Ginger mewed loudly, as if to plead with him to stay. Ian stared at the cat for a long while, before hanging his head, resolved to his choice. He lumbered to the cart and sat upon the driving ledge, taking the reins of his horse. He gave a lingering look at the forge and then turned his head, taking a deep breath. He needed to let it all behind him, for there was nothing left for him here. He geed the horse and it went trotting away. Ian held the reins tightly as a tear trickled down his cheek. He silently prayed for forgiveness, not only from Lucy and Rory, but from his father as well.

He knew he was doing the right thing because it hurt in his heart and his bones. The wagon trundled along the road and the horizon swept before him. His features were haggard, and he swallowed his pain and his pride.