Page 116 of Of Heather and Thistle
The thought nearly stole the breath from her lungs.
She glanced around, taking in the space—the grand staircase, the sturdy beams, the soft light spilling in through the tall windows. The house didn’t feel heavy anymore. It didn’t feel haunted. It felt like it was at peace. She exhaled slowly, turning back to Flynn.
“And here I thought you’d finally be relieved to be done with this job.”
Flynn let out a low chuckle. “Oh, don’t get me wrong, I was looking forward to the day I didn’t have to patch up another one of this place’s ancient walls.” He tapped a knuckle on the table. “But I guess it wouldn’t have felt right, leaving Glenoran without you in it.”
Her breath hitched. Something in her chest tightened, a slow, sweet ache blooming beneath her ribs.
She searched his face, trying to decide if he meant the house—the project—or something more. But the way he looked at her, quiet and steady, like he knew exactly how much this moment meant, made her think maybe it wasn’t just Glenoran he wanted to stay. “You know,” she mused, “if I’m staying, that means you’re stuck with me.”
Flynn tilted his head slightly, as if considering it. “Think I can handle that.”
Heather arched a brow. “Oh? Even when I keep changing my mind about paint colors?”
His grin was slow, lazy. “Wouldnae be the first time.”
“And when I get in the way while you’re working?”
He stepped closer, just enough that she had to tilt her head to look up at him. “I’ll manage.”
Heather swallowed, the air between them shifting, deepening. “And if I decide I need another project done?”
Flynn reached out, catching a curl between his fingers, rubbing it absently before letting it slip away. “Then I guess I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.” The warmth in his voice, the way his eyes searched hers, like he saw something in her she wasn’t even sure she was ready to believe in, gave her a sense of peace. She finally let herself want this. Not just the house. Not just the history, but Flynn. She didn’t move away. Didn’t want to.
“Good,” she murmured, her breath catching as his hand brushed her face. “Because I think I’d like that.”
Flynn’s smile softened, his thumb skimming lightly along her cheek. “Yeah,” he said, his voice rough, steady. “Me too.”
Glenoran had been lost.
So had she.
But not anymore.
Chapter 35
Heather stood at the massive stone entrance of the Scottish National Museum, the weight of history pressing against her chest. In her hands, she carried a carefully packed case that contained not just a fragile piece of cloth—but a piece of her family’s past. The Jacobite battle flag, the scrap of Mackenzie tartan, and the parchment had already been authenticated. Now, it was time to decide their future.
She inhaled deeply, steadying herself. This was the right thing to do.
The doors swung open, and she stepped into the museum’s grand hall. The air was thick with the scent of aged paper, polished wood, and the faint, metallic tang of preserved artifacts. The vaulted ceiling stretched high above her, and the towering walls were lined with relics of Scotland’s past—armor from the Wars of Independence, faded battle maps, and weapons that had witnessed the rise and fall of kings.
She approached the reception desk, where a young womangreeted her with a polite smile.
“I’m here for Dr. Henderson. She’s expecting me.”
The receptionist nodded and gestured toward an office behind the main exhibit halls. “Of course, right this way.”
Heather followed her through the quiet corridors until they reached a modest but cozy office filled with books, historical sketches, and carefully labeled artifacts. Dr. Flora Henderson, a woman in her mid-fifties with sharp blue eyes and the kind of quiet intensity that made you sit straighter without realizing it.
“You must be Heather Campbell.”
Dr. Henderson stood, offering a warm handshake. “I’ve been eager to meet you in person.”
She returned the handshake, her grip firm despite the nerves swirling in her stomach. “I still can’t believe everything you and your team have uncovered.”
Dr. Henderson smiled. “It’s truly remarkable.” She gestured to the chair across from her desk. “Please, have a seat. Let’s talk about what comes next.”
