Chapter Twenty-Two

It seemed a fitting morning for Sorcha to leave him. Rain drizzled from the sky, and there was no sun to be found. Gray sucked up all the space in the sky, and the dark start to the morning fit Alasdair's mood. He stood at his solar window, close enough to watch her depart but far enough back that she would not see him as she had yesterday when he'd not been able to stop himself from following her and Laird Campbell.

Finding her kissing him still caused a red haze to descend over his vision, which only strengthened when he thought of that man's mouth on hers, his hands on her body, his claiming her in a way Alasdair had wanted to, but it was not what she wanted. That much had been obvious from the moment she'd entered the room and had barely looked his way. And how could he blame her? Before her stood a future of the ultimate comfort with one of the richest lords in the land. Or, she could have a life with him, a man who had been trying to figure out how to get the coin needed to keep his clan from starving in the winter when all the food would run out.

And winter seemed to be approaching as of this day. Sorcha's departure was leaving behind gray, cold, and an absence of joy, and he could not help but wonder if she would have considered staying if he'd realized sooner that he loved her with his whole heart?

The door creaked open, causing him to turn away from the now empty courtyard and toward the door. Esmerelda, the last person he cared to see, stood there. "Ye made the right decision, Alasdair."

"What decision is that?" he asked, crossing the room to his desk and picking up the full wine goblet the serving girl had left for him. He took a long sip and then set it down as the wine trailed a warm path down his throat. But it failed to rid him of the chill that had gripped him since Sorcha had walked away hand in hand with Laird Campbell.

"Letting that lass go."

"She was nae mine to keep," he said, already weary of the conversation before it had begun.

"She's the sort of lass who needs to be pampered, but I'm nae," Esmerelda said, surprising him.

His thoughts filtered suddenly back to the months after Mariot had died, when Esmerelda had stayed and encouraged him to cling to his grief. It had become a habit. And when he had made feeble attempts to bond with his newborn bairns, she'd always assured him she was giving them everything they needed. He didn't know if this was about him and some sort of misplaced desire for him, or if this was about the loss of Mariot, but either way, the woman had to leave. Today.

"Geoffrey!" he bellowed, because the man was never far. And within a breath, a rap came at the door.

"My lord?" Geoffrey called.

"Enter," Alasdair commanded. He motioned to Esmerelda. "Esmerelda needs escorting back to Castle Lochart today."

"What?" she exclaimed.

"Wait outside, Geoffrey. She will be out shortly, and ye are to take her to her bedchambers to pack her trunk, then back to her home without delay." Once Geoffrey had quit the room, he focused on Esmerelda. "I dunnae ken what ye have been about, plotting to keep me in my grief, completely taking over the rearing of my children, and I suspect doing all ye could to drive Sorcha away, and I dunnae honestly care. It does nae change anything now, and because ye gave Mariot life, I will give ye this pass for yer sins against me and the children, but dunnae return here, Esmerelda, ever, for the greeting ye receive will be an escort to my dungeon where ye will stay until I call yer son to fetch ye once more."

"Alasdair!" she gasped. "I simply tried to fill the emptiness Mariot left."

"Mayhap ye did in yer own twisted way, but ye kinnae fill Mariot's void. Nae anyone can. I need a fresh start with someone who will nae try to make me forget her but will understand she is in my heart, and that there is more than enough space for them as well." When she opened her mouth to say more, he held up a hand to silence her. "Someone like Sorcha," he said.

"I'm nae much older than that wench!" she exclaimed.

He recoiled at the revealing truth of her dark words. "Ye are Mariot's mama. Ye are the grandmama to my children, and that is all ye will ever be to me."

"I brought yer heart back to life!" she nearly shrieked.

He stood up, came around his desk, and took her by the elbow. "Nay," he said. "Ye nearly aided me in freezing it solid. Sorcha melted it." And then she'd left him. Inhaling a breath, he guided Esmerelda toward the door that was already open. Calan stood there with his dagger drawn. "Laird?" he said, looking between them.

"'Tis fine. Esmerelda is just departing," he finished, handing her over to Geoffrey. "Ye ken what to do."

"Aye, Laird," Geoffrey answered and tugged Esmerelda away as she began to wail.

Alasdair was four steps into the solar once more when Calan spoke. "How could ye just let her go?"

Frowning, Alasdair turned to Calan. "Ye dunnae ken what Esmerelda had been up to."

"What?" Calan waved a dismissive hand. "I'm nae speaking of Esmerelda. I've been telling ye for an age that she needed to return home, but ye refused to see it because to see it meant ye had to face how ye felt and all that needed to change. How could ye let Sorcha go? It was obvious to me by the way ye watched her that ye care for her, and ye foolishly offered nae to take the coin for her."

"I would have gladly given up the coin had she wanted to stay with me."

"I think she did. She looked to ye several times, and ye would nae meet her gaze."

"I did nae want her to feel she had to stay."

"Ye lie to yerself," Calan rebutted. "Ye were scairt to show her how much ye wanted her to stay. Ye are scairt because if ye truly acknowledge how much ye want her, ye will have to face how much losing her might hurt."

"Ye spout nonsense!" Alasdair thundered, even as Calan's words hit targets he hadn't known were there. "She kissed her betrothed. She made her choice!"

"Da!" came Hew's and Beatie's voices as they scrambled from around the door where he suspected they'd been eavesdropping.

"Sorcha did nae kiss the bad man!" Hew blurted.

"He kissed her," Beatie offered, "and then she slapped him."

"She slapped him?" he asked, astounded.

"Aye!" they said in unison.

A black realization descended on him. Calan was right. He'd been afraid, even though he knew he loved her. Or perhaps because of the depth of his feelings, he'd let her go for fear of one day losing her. He had not outrun his grief. It had led his every action up until this very moment. No more. "I need to go get Sorcha."

"Aye," Calan agreed, "if she'll have ye."

Her sadness was so heavy, Sorcha thought it a wonder she was still upright on her horse. She was glad to be left alone to ride, so when her brother turned back to her from the front of the line, she was still struggling to push her dark mood away when he reached her and fell in line beside her.

"What ails ye?" he asked, his tone gentle and his gaze kind.

"Ye will nae like what I say," she said, thinking how her da used to smack her when she spoke her mind, and she feared Laird Campbell would prove much the same as her da.

"I am so glad to be reunited with ye, Sorcha, and I ken ye dunnae ken me yet, so I will tell ye a truth I hope ye come to believe. I will nae ever fault ye for speaking the truth to me or harm ye in anger."

She nodded, believing his words. "I dunnae... I dunnae wish to wed Laird Campbell."

"Ah," her brother said, nodding. "Because ye dunnae ken him."

"That is a small part of it. I would have been willing to ken him, given Alasdair let me leave."

Her brother blinked at her in surprise. "Ye like Laird MacLachlan?"

"I love him," she said without hesitation. "But he does nae love me, or he would nae have let me go."

Suddenly, a thundering filled the air and rumbled the ground. Sorcha's heart leaped in fear as her brother called the riders to a halt, and they circled around her, drawing their weapons to protect her. She noted Laird Campbell was not at the front circle but the second one, proving to her he was indeed of little worth. She could just see between the men encircling her, so that when Alasdair came into view, she cried out in surprise.

"Weapons down," her brother called.

Laird Campbell broke from his place in line and rode toward her brother. "What do ye mean weapons down? The man has clearly come to claim yer sister!"

"I certainly hope so," her brother said, winking at her to her shock. "She loves him."

"Well, I'll nae let her go," Laird Campbell growled. "We've a betrothal, and I want the union."

"Ye want the warriors and land that come with her, Campbell, nae her, and besides that, Sorcha does nae want ye. And whether MacLachlan is here to ask for her or nae, I'll nae force my sister to wed a man she does nae wish to wed."

Laird Campbell withdrew his sword and pointed it at her brother, even as her brother did the same, and all around them, her brother's men, as well as Campbell's, drew their swords upon one another.

"What have we here?" Alasdair asked as he rode up with a dozen warriors.

"Here, we have a disagreement," her brother said in a nonchalant tone, as if a sword were not pointed at his heart. "Laird Campbell wants my sister, but my sister wants ye," Ross said with such shocking bluntness that Sorcha gasped at how close his nature matched hers. "The question is, do ye want my sister? Is that why ye are here?"

"Aye," Alasdair said, looking to her, and that's when she saw the overflowing love in his gaze. "I want ye, Sorcha. I want ye more than I'm scairt of wanting ye. It just took me a spell to get here."

Her heart felt as if it would explode with happiness.

"If ye'll have me, I'll spend my lifetime showing ye how much I love ye."

"She'll have ye," her brother pronounced, and then with the swiftest move she'd ever seen, he had Laird Campbell off his horse and on his back with his sword pointed at the man's chest. "Campbell, I see two choices for ye: walk away from the betrothal to my sister or engage in a clan war with me. I'll win. Ye ken it as well as I do. Nae only do I have more warriors than ye, I'll have my new brother-in-law's warriors to aid me."

Laird Campbell looked mad enough to spit steel. "I'll walk away, but ye've made an enemy for life. Both of ye."

"As ye wish," her brother said.

"For Sorcha," Alasdair replied, "I would gladly fight a hundred wars."

Ross removed his sword, and Laird Campbell scrambled up and onto his horse once more. With a whistle to his men, they rode off to the left and, Sorcha assumed, toward his home.

Alasdair rode to her and dismounted, then came to stand by her side. "Sorcha, will ye have me as yer husband to love ye with all I am from now until my last breath?"

"Aye," she said, sliding off her horse and into his arms, which he wrapped around her to hug her tight. She pressed her lips to his. "I will have ye this day, and the gods willing, this night," she added wickedly because she simply could not resist.

"I heard that!" her brother bellowed. "I'll be seeing ye to yer new home, but I'll nae be leaving until I see ye wed." He eyed them both, and they all burst out laughing. This, she thought, standing there, was more than she had ever dreamed. Here was a man she loved and a brother she suspected she would come to love. Alasdair hugged her again, and then he and Ross were gripping forearms and laughing. This, she thought on a contented sigh, was the dream she'd long ago quieted, brought back to roaring life.