Page 101 of The Highlander Steals a Virgin
She stared at the trail ahead a moment longer, then forced herself to say it.
“I’m afraid.”
That stopped him. His horse slowed, falling into pace with hers again. “Of what?”
“Of seein’ me faither again. Of what I’ll feel when I do.” Her lips parted, and the words spilled out more easily now. “He wasnae always like this, ye ken. Cruel and angry, like.”
Rhys said nothing, so she kept talking. If she stopped, she might lose the courage to start again.
“When I was little, he used to lift me onto his shoulders and march through the halls like I was a princess. He’d let me pull his beard and call him ‘the bear king.’ He was… warm. Loud. He loved me maither like the sun would never set on her face.”
Rhys’s brow furrowed, but he kept his silence.
“The day she died,” Amara whispered, “he changed.”
The world felt heavy, and as if it was threatening to crash down upon her.
“He wasnae even there when it happened,” she went on. “I guess I wasnae either.”
Rhys let out a quiet breath. His hand twitched against his reins like he wanted to reach for her.
“He dinnae cry. Nae once… When I asked where she was, he was so cold. He went outside that night after supper, and burned every dress she ever wore. Told the servants nae to speak her name again.”
Rhys’s jaw tightened. “And ye?”
“He looked at me like I was the ghost of her… as ifIkilled her.” Her voice cracked. “After that, he sent me to live in the west wing. I barely saw him. He was always in the war room, or drinkin’, or shoutin’ at someone.”
Amara’s voice dropped to a whisper. “It was as if he hated me for survivin’.”
They rode for a long while without speaking. The wind moved gently through the leaves.
Then Rhys said, “Ye dinnae deserve that.”
Amara looked over at him. His expression was unreadable, his dark brows drawn, mouth set hard. But his voice was calm. Grounded. Steady.
“None of that was yer fault,” he added.
“I was with her last,” she said, “And I kept tryin’ to earn his love back, like it had been a thing I dropped and lost in the woods. It was pathetic.”
Rhys made a low sound in his throat, something close to a growl. “There’s nothin’ a lassie should do toearna faither’s love. It should be freely given.”
Amara blinked fast. Her chest hurt in a way that surprised her. The kind of pain that comes from being seen too clearly.
They continued riding, and after a time, she asked, “Did ye ken yer parents long?”
Rhys’s features shifted. The grief that flickered across his face was raw and real, but he didn’t shy away.
“Me maither died when I was young. Three or four, maybe. I daenae remember anythin’ about her, unfortunately.”
Amara smiled faintly. “And yer faither… before…?”
His jaw worked for a moment. “Me faither raised me alone. He was… hard. But fair. And he loved her so much, and he never married again. I miss him.”
“Is that why ye’ve never —?” she stopped herself.
Rhys looked over at her. “Married?”
She nodded.
