Page 129 of The Highlander Steals a Virgin
If there is room for it, I would speak with you. Not to mend what’s broken. Perhaps only to say aloud what this letter fails to do.
— Callan Murdoch
When he reached the end, Rhys’s eyes connected with Amara’s.
She floated toward him, her joy plain on her face, and Rhys suddenly felt a strong urge to protect her from this letter. Protect her peace. But he knew she had a right to know. It was addressed to her.
Amara picked up the parchment and then began to read, but she didn’t finish it.
Not past the first line, surely, she stopped, eyes rolled to the back of her head. Her face slowly emptied of emotion.
“Lass?” Rhys asked softly.
She nodded once. Twice. And then a third time as she exhaled slowly. The entire study had fallen silent. Then she set the page down with care, as if touching it any longer might poison her.
“I daenae want to read it,” she said.
“He claims he regrets —”
“I daenae care, Rhys. It’s done.”
Her voice was calm. Final.
Rhys stepped forward. “Ye daenae have to decide right now.”
“But I have.” Her fingers curled slightly on the edge of the table. “He made his choice. And now, he can live with it until his dyin’ breath.”
Rhys reached for her hand, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. “I’m proud of ye, lass.”
She looked up, those green eyes meeting his with something softer than defiance, and stronger than pain. “Ye always say that.”
“Because it’s always true.”
He leaned in and kissed her forehead, and she leaned into it like it was home.
That might’ve been the moment they kissed properly again, until a suddenBANGshook the door.
“Do yereallyneed more than five minutes, Rhys?” came Myles’s dramatic whine from the other side of the study door. “Some of us are witherin’ away out here!”
Snickering followed. William’s unmistakable cackle. Even Mabel’s sigh carried amusement.
Amara chuckled into Rhys’s shoulder. “Should we let them in?”
“I’m tempted to lock the door and move the war table in front of it,” Rhys muttered.
More knocking. Then Daisy’s small voice, “Papa?”
He sighed. “Well, we cannae say nay to that one.”
He opened the door and in tumbled Billy and Myles like overgrown children, with Daisy darting between them and climbing onto a bench at the table.
Mabel passed through next, “Alright, all of ye. If I’m to finish this hem before sundown, someone needs to pour me another cup of tea.”
“I’ll do it!” Daisy squeaked, already running for the kettle.
Myles plopped beside her, elbowing William. “Told ye this would happen. Weddin' madness. Should’ve fled while we had the chance.”
“Ye love it,” William grunted, snatching the last candied apple from the table.
