Page 20 of Forge of the Highlander’s Destiny
“I willnae tell ye, yet. Just think on it. Yer faither says we have five days to decide. I would never wish to rush ye, Lass. It is an important decision, and if ye choose ‘nay’, then I will give ye whatever ye need to run away and leave this place forever. I would even go to war against yer faither if ye wish, if ye want to stay but willnae marry me. The choice is yers. Ye are a free woman.”
He moved forward just a little, as if he was going to kiss her. Arya’s heart fluttered with excitement, hoping to feel his mouth against hers again, as a seal upon the agreement, but he paused and thought better of it.
“Two hours,” he said again, and then with a wink, he left the room, and Arya slowly sank back into her chair.
She spotted the letter at Cohen’s place at the table. She didn’t read it and instead stood, walked over to the fire and tossed the letter in, listening to the satisfied crackle as her father’s words burned into ash.
Two hours later, she ascended the steps to the battlements with the tartan belted tight around her thin waist. It was not snowing any longer, but the day had looked blustery from the window, and she wanted to be comfortable.
Especially since she was marching to some mysterious fate. Why had Cohen asked to meet her there?
She took a breath on the other side of the door leading to the battlements. What had she decided in the last two hours? She’d spent much of it pacing her chamber, sweating since she’d stoked the fire quite high in her agitation.
It was true. She was in love with him, desperately so, and it only grew with each moment that passed, but in the end, what did that matter? Was she willing to sacrifice her independence to fulfill that love?
However, her heart could not be silenced. Even as her mind made arguments against falling into another man’s trap, her heart knew the truth. Cohen Kirk was a good man. He was not her father, and he had proved that time and time again.
Her hand was on the knob, but she hesitated. She had never seen a marriage before. Her mother had died so early, and it was just her father on his own, doing as he pleased. Arya had no concept of what it was like to give herself to another person, mind, body, and soul.
She turned the knob, holding her breath.
When she opened the door, a gust of cool wind passed over her skin, and she shuddered, pulling the door closed behind her.
She saw Cohen standing a little farther away.
Pulling her tartan tighter, she walked to him, still thinking about what she’d say if he asked again.
Finally, she stood before him, and he smiled, reaching out for her hand. “Come and sit with me,” he said, pointing to the fur blanket he had laid down on the floor.
She took it, following his lead. “We might have sat in the meadow, but the snow is still upon the ground, and this is far more comfortable, especially with the walls, cutting off the wind.” She agreed.
As soon as she sat, she felt warmer. The gusts of winter wind were no longer cutting through her clothing, chilling her bones.
It was just the warmth of the sun she felt on her skin now.
He stared at her for a few seconds, and then he turned to pick up a bottle. “Drink with me, Lass.” He spoke it as a statement, but his eyes made it seem as if it was a question.
“Aye, I will have one.” Warm wine was poured into a thick metal cup and passed into her hands. She took it gratefully and sipped at it, hoping to calm her nerves. Was she to forever be nervous in the man’s presence? Now that she knew just how…wonderful it could be?
They both drank for a few moments until Cohen set his cup down, and he turned his lovely, soft brown eyes to her. In the light of day, they almost looked golden. He took her cup out of her hands, pausing a moment as if to ask permission, and she nodded.
Once both cups were set aside, Cohen sat up on his knees, and he took her hands in his.
For a few seconds, he looked at them, rubbing his hands over them to warm them, and then he stopped.
“Arya, I asked ye here so that I could ask ye to marry me properly. Ye have had some time to think about it, and perhaps ye need even more. But I didnae want a proposal to come right after readin’ that disgustin’ letter from yer faither. ”
He paused, and then rising to his feet, he lifted her as well. The cold wind whipped around them, but Arya didn’t feel it. She only heard the cold whistle of it as it sang between them. Slowly, he lowered to his knee.
“Arya Donaldson. I ken ye have had a difficult time. That ye daenae trust men, and I understand ye completely. I would never want ye to feel ever again what ye have felt in the time with yer faither. But I dae think that ye could find happiness with me. That we could find happiness with each other. Will ye marry me, Lass?” he asked with his usual, cheeky smile.
“Be Lady Sinclair, and I will spend the rest of me life makin’ ye happy. ”
He dug in his pocket and then lifted out a ring, holding it up to her.
It was silver, twisted so that it looked like the branches of a tree wrapped around a band.
It was beautiful, the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.
And Cohen’s eyes were perfect, staring at her as if she was the best thing he’d ever seen.
“Aye,” she said, feeling her heart scream with happiness. Deep down, she knew it was right, and all clouds of doubt suddenly left her mind. He hadn’t said I love you, and she hadn’t either, but perhaps that could come with time. “I will marry ye, Cohen Kirk, Laird of Sinclair.”
He grinned, and as he stood, he pushed the ring onto her finger where it fit perfectly. Then, in a surprising act of tenderness, he took her face into his hands and kissed her.