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Truthfully, he’d thought about the man periodically over the past few days, knowing that Tobias was probably more than happy with the events that had taken place.

To his credit, however, he’d said nothing about Havilland, or the loss thereof.

He’d kept his conversations civil and on other subjects, but Jamison knew that the man must have been pleased.

Jamison respected him for not showing it.

But the fact remained that there was to be no wedding between Jamison and Havilland, which left the way open for Tobias.

Would Havilland keep her vow to never marry?

With Roald de Llion unable to command the fortress, logic and customs would dictate that a man needed to.

Jamison had once suggested it would be him, but not now.

Now, perhaps, it would be Tobias or even Becket.

Would Havilland be forced into changing her mind out of necessity?

Jamison wondered. But he couldn’t dwell on it.

To do so would surely gut him. To think of Tobias touching her as only he should have… nay, he couldn’t think of that at all.

Quickly, he packed his possessions, which wouldn’t have taken long in any case considering he didn’t have very much.

He changed out of his brecan and into his tunic and mail, looking every inch the serious and powerful English knight, and packed everything away into his saddlebags.

Collecting his broadsword, he left the solar without a hind glance.

Jamison went immediately to the stable yard to make sure his horse was saddled.

The young grooms who worked the stables were happy to bring forth the hairy black steed he’d purchased in Edinburgh.

As he set his saddlebags in the stall, to be added to the horse once he’d been saddled, Jamison thought it best to let Tobias and Thad in on his plans.

He didn’t want to make it seem like he was leaving because of a broken heart but rather because his father had summoned him home, which was true.

He would save his pride and use that as his reason for leaving even though everyone knew otherwise.

Before he sought out the de Lohr knights, however, there was something more he needed to do.

The mist was lifting as the day brightened.

Jamison crossed the bailey and headed towards the gatehouse, ignoring the knots in his stomach as he knew Havilland would be there.

The patrol had just left, both big portcullises lifted to allow them to depart, and as Jamison entered the gatehouse, it was with a purpose in mind.

He was searching for the sergeant in charge and he found the man just inside the guard room, speaking to a pair of sentries.

Jamison quietly requested the keys to the vault, which the man provided without hesitation.

Keys in hand, Jamison headed down to the hole beneath the gatehouse.

Down the dark, slippery stairs he went, rather relieved he hadn’t seen Havilland in his quest to obtain the keys to the vault.

But that relief was dashed when he came down the stairs and saw Havilland standing in front of her sister’s cell.

In fact, she was holding Amaline through the iron grate, clutching the girl as Amaline wept softly. Jamison could hear it.

He paused at the bottom of the steps, hesitantly, but the women had heard him coming.

The chamber was so small that sound carried greatly and Havilland turned to see Jamison standing there.

Their eyes met and Jamison felt that familiar stabbing pain he was coming to associate with her, unable to speak with her, unable to touch her.

So he did what he had done as of late; he simply looked through her and moved to the cell.

But she was standing in front of the lock and he motioned to her to move away.

“Stand away, m’lady,” he said quietly.

Havilland did, standing back and watching him curiously as he opened the cell.

Amaline, too, was standing back, watching as Jamison swung the door open.

She was shivering, red-eyed, but she didn’t try to rush the door to break free.

She simply stood there, waiting. When Jamison made a sweeping motion with his hand, inviting her to leave the cell, she looked at him dumbly.

“Ye are free tae leave, m’lady,” he said, his voice dull.

Astonished, Amaline looked at him like he wasn’t making any sense. Jamison didn’t bother to explain; he’d done all of the speaking he intended to. He was almost back to the stairs when a soft voice stopped him.

“What is the meaning of this, Jamison?” Havilland asked, an expression of earnest surprise on her face. “Are you truly releasing her?”

Jamison paused, but he couldn’t look at her. His guts were in knots and he simply couldn’t bring himself to do it. He didn’t trust himself.

“Aye,” he said. “She’s free tae go. No one really knows what she did, save the knights, so I wouldna tell anyone if I were ye. Not even de Lohr when he comes, although ye’ll have tae explain Madeline’s escape somehow. Tobias and Thad know, but I doubt they’ll tell him if ye ask them not tae.”

He took the first two steps in another attempt to leave but she stopped him again. “Wait,” she said, rushing up to him, standing next to him. “Why would you do this? I thought you said… you said she would have to atone for what she’s done?”

Jamison knew what he said. But all of that seemed so foolish right now. He didn’t even care any longer. Havilland was standing right next to him and it took all of his strength not to look at her. He was afraid of what would happen if he did.

“She’s spent four days in this hellish hole,” he muttered. “That’s enough tae scare her intae never doing anything so foolish again, I’d wager.”

He started to move again and Havilland reached out, putting a hand on his arm. “Thank you,” she said softly, sincerely. “Thank you for your mercy, Jamison. I shall not forget it.”

Her hand on his arm was like a brand, searing through his mail and causing him more pain than he ever thought possible.

It was like torture. He couldn’t even manage to speak.

Without another word, he turned to continue up into the gatehouse beyond but came to a halt. There was one last thing he had to say.

“I wish ye would,” he said, not looking at her. “I wish ye would forget everything. I’m leavin’ this morning and that should make it easier for ye.”

She didn’t move her hand. In fact, she clutched him. “Truly?” she whispered. “You are leaving today?”

“Aye.”

“Will you not look at me when you speak.”

“Nay.”

“Why not?”

He was struggling not to become agitated. “Because I canna,” he whispered harshly. “This is yer choice, Havilland, not mine. Ye will allow me tae deal with this in me own way.”

Havilland didn’t release him. “You know it was not an easy choice,” she whispered tightly. “If you think this situation is not killing me, also, then you would be wrong.”

He did what he swore he wouldn’t do; he looked at her, just in time to see her big eyes flooded with tears. It was too much for him and he yanked his arm away from her.

“I must go,” he muttered.

With that, he was gone, moving out into the deepening morning, feeling as if he’d just left a major portion of his soul behind in that vault.

He tossed the keys to the nearest soldier and continued on, making his way back to the stables and feeling almost a panic to leave.

He couldn’t stand the sight of the castle any longer, reminding of a life he’d hoped for but could never have.

He had to get out of there, so much so that he was already mounted by the time Kendrick returned with Beaux and Caspian.

Seeing that Jamison was ready to leave, and anxiously so, they hurried to saddle their horses and collect their belongings.

They didn’t want to keep him waiting.

But in truth, there was a short wait while they collected their possessions and the entire time, Jamison was terrified that Havilland was going to come into the stable yard and try to turn his departure into a some kind of horrific farewell.

That wasn’t something he could adequately deal with, knowing that his resolve to go home was hanging on by a thread.

Havilland had the power to cut that thread and then he’d be lost, unable to make a decision as pain overwhelmed him.

He’d said all he needed to say in the vault and he found himself praying that she wouldn’t come.

Praying that she would.

He was shattered when she didn’t.

As Jamison agonized over his departure, Tobias and Thad came to the stable yard to bid their farewells.

Having been alerted by Beaux about the imminent departure and knowing what Jamison was going home to face, they were heartfelt in their farewells.

Thad was far more sorrowful to see Jamison leave while Tobias stood back, watching the four Scotsmen load their horses without much emotion at all.

He did promise to tell his father what had happened with George the Younger and explain why Jamison had to return home.

He assured Jamison that the earl would understand.

Not a word was spoken between Jamison and Tobias about Havilland.

There was no need, to be truthful, and Jamison was relieved when Beaux and Kendrick and Caspian were finally ready to depart.

He wanted to get the hell out of there. Bidding Tobias and Thad farewell, the four Scotsmen proceeded through the bailey and passed through the gatehouse as the soldiers on duty watched them with varied degrees of curiosity.

No one really seemed to know why Jamison was leaving with the men who had arrived four days earlier, but it was clear that Tobias and Thad knew.

They followed the riders out of the gatehouse, coming to a stop at the threshold and allowing them to continue on.

Thad waved, Tobias didn’t, but Jamison didn’t see any of it.

He was riding at the head of the group, keeping his focus straight ahead and slowly dying inside.

This is all for the best , he kept telling himself.

The time had come to put Four Crosses behind him and turn his focus to where it belonged– far to the north at Foulis Castle.

As the new heir to Clan Munro, Jamison was an important man now.

And the MacKenzies were waiting for him.

The horses plodded along the road and the mist was burning off rapidly. Patches of blue sky could be seen overhead. It was a bright, new day and Jamison tried to look at it as such. A new day, a new life ahead.

A life without Havilland.

Against his better judgement, he turned to catch one last glimpse of the castle.

He wasn’t sure why; perhaps, he really had no reason at all other than he simply wanted to remember the look of it.

But as his gaze moved over the battlements, he caught sight of a lone woman with a dark braid standing alone on the section towards the north.

It was Havilland.

His heart took a hit. Jamison’s gaze lingered on her a moment, knowing that this was her way of saying goodbye.

They wouldn’t speak to one another, for it was too painful.

But her appearance on the wall was her way of making sure he knew she was seeing him off in her own way.

Perhaps, in the only way either of them could handle at the moment.

All he knew was that he missed her more than words could express.

Looking at her on the battlements, she looked so lost and lonely, much the way he felt. Lost and lonely. When she lifted her hand to wave, he couldn’t help but lift his hand in return.

Godspeed, my love.

It was a moment that Jamison would remember for the rest of his life.