Page 23 of Married to the Scarred Highlander (Unwanted Highland Wives #4)

23

C iaran’s heart pounded against his ribs like war drums, his sword still stained with the blood of men who had been caught in Henry’s deception. The scent of gunpowder and steel stuck to his wedding attire.

It was nothing compared to the scene he walked into.

In the Bairns’ Keep, Henry stood near the large arched window, his grip tight around Fraser, the bairn’s small body pressed against his chest. Ersie’s nose was bleeding but she was about to attack for what Ciaran assumed would be the second time, her expression unreadable but her stance poised and deadly.

Laura, still in her wedding dress, looked ready to tear the man apart with her bare hands. Her breathing was ragged, and her knuckles were white around a dagger in her skirts.

And Freya stood at her sister’s side, ready to strike the moment the opportunity presented itself.

The room felt too still. The air was thick with tension, the weight of it pressing on his chest as the sounds of Adam, Neil, and Doughall’s rushed footsteps echoed in the stairwell. His eyes snapped to Ersie then, and in that single moment, something unspoken passed between them.

She understood.

In the blink of an eye, she flicked her wrist, slicing clean through Henry’s ear.

He let out a sharp cry, jerking to the side as blood spurted against the wall.

That was all his sister needed. She ducked and wrenched Fraser free from his arms, twisting away, her back to Henry as Ciaran raised sword and got to him.

“Ye dared touch what’s mine, Henry?” he said ominously.

“Ye dinnae deserve what ye call yers!” Henry spat, bringing his hand to his ear. “Nae monster can ever care for anything but himself.”

“Och, ye think me a monster? I shouldnae disappoint ye then.”

With one swift movement, Ciaran brought his sword to Henry’s throat. And sliced. “Ye should have stayed away from me wife and son.”

Blood gushed from Henry’s throat, and his body crumbled to the ground, motionless.

The room fell into silence, save for the distant clash of steel, and the labored breaths of the men who entered the room.

No one moved.

The weight of death settled over them, thick and suffocating.

It was Ersie who moved first, lowering a still-sleeping Fraser into Laura’s arms as she wiped Henry’s blood from her blade. She didn’t even flinch.

Laura dropped her dagger and focused solely on her son. She sang sweet lullabies and kissed his chubby cheeks, but when she lifted her gaze to Ciaran, the intensity took his breath away.

“Doughall and I will go downstairs and take care of the rest,” Ersie said simply, drawing his attention away from his wife, as if that was possible.

Ciaran nodded once, his throat tight with pride. He had always known his sister was strong, but seeing her now, as fearless as any soldier he had ever commanded, made something deep in his chest swell.

Adam stepped forward, pulling his sisters close as if to reassure himself that they were both safe and that Fraser was unharmed.

“Ye’ll need a guard to get this filth out of here once the battle outside dies down.” Neil nudged Henry’s lifeless body with his boot. “I’ll handle it.”

“Thank ye.” Ciaran replied, but his eyes had found Laura again.

His wife finally found her voice, the exact moment Gordon came running through the door, taking in the scene before him. “Kenna?”

“She’s fine, Me Lady,” Gordon reassured her as he went to help Neil with Henry’s body. “Knocked in the head, but she will recover.”

Laura exhaled deeply, nodding.

After Gordon and Neil left with Henry in their arms, there was a shift in the air. As if sensing it, her family slowly began moving to the door, murmuring soft goodbyes as they left the room. Adam lingered, giving her one last look, before nodding in silent understanding.

Then, it was just the two of them.

Laura stood rigid, her expression unreadable as she stared at the door, then back at Ciaran.

Something deep inside of him twisted at the look in her eyes.

What is she thinkin’?

As if reading his thoughts, she said, “Thank ye for coming for us. He said ye would kill us…”

Sorrow filled her voice until finally, tears dropped from her eyes.

He wanted to wipe them, wanted to take her in his arms and reassure her, but he knew better than to try to comfort her—it would only push her further away. And in this small room, she was already miles away.

“Ye dinnae believe him, do ye?” His voice was calm, but the thought of her fearing him made his blood boil.

Why is she only now afraid? Why now?

She didn’t answer at first. Then, finally, she shook her head. “Nay, but… what Henry said?—”

Ciaran’s jaw clenched.

The man’s words linger around her like a curse, and I wasnae even here to hear them.

She lifted her chin, her blue eyes sharp despite her tears. “I want a real husband, Ciaran. I want ye body and soul for the rest of me life. I want to be one wit’ ye. I want a real life. I’m done livin’ in the past. I’m done runnin’. I’m done lettin’ me past dictate me present and me future. Will ye change yer mind about havin’ children?”

The question was completely unexpected. It wasn’t at all about Henry, or the battle, or putting her in danger. It wasn’t at all about her safety or even Fraser’s safety. It was about having bairns.

He stiffened, his instincts warring against reason. The thought of passing on his father’s cowardice had been his greatest fear since he’d killed the man.

His silence stretched on for too long.

Laura nodded to herself as if she had already expected his answer.

“Thank ye, Ciaran,” she said again, her voice quiet. “For everything ye’ve done for me and Fraser.”

A dull ache settled in his chest as her next words left her perfect, quivering lips.

“I’ll stay tonight to heal the wounded, but after that… I’ll leave with me sister. I need time.”

The air turned to ice.

Ciaran stood there, frozen, watching as she turned to the door without another word, to the life she had already chosen without him.

She didnae look back.

As he stood at the top of the battlements, arms crossed over his chest, staring down at the garden below, his body ached. Exhaustion crept into his bones, but none of it compared to the ache in his chest.

Laura had walked away from him with Fraser in her arms, chin lifted, pride unshaken. And yet, even now, as he watched her move through the wounded below, he couldn’t bring himself to look away.

She was softer like this, gentler. The woman was deliberate and steady with her movements as he watched her clean a man’s leg wound.

She worked with purpose, moving between the injured with practiced calm and ease. She barely rested, barely lifted her head, and each time she bent over a patient, tucking a damp cloth beneath their head or stitching a wound, he could see the slightest furrow in her brow.

She belongs there, and I ripped her away from it…

Laura didn’t belong in a keep, she didn’t need a man, and she wasn’t bound to a life she hadn’t chosen for herself.

And yet… she had chosen him. For a moment.

Ciaran let out a slow breath, gripping the stone railing before him. He had never cared before—not when people whispered about him, not when they recoiled from him—but she had never looked away from him. She was never afraid of him. She challenged him.

His hands tightened into fists at his sides as he watched her reach for a wounded boy no older than ten, his ankle twisted unnaturally. The boy’s face contorted in pain, but the moment Laura crouched beside him, he relaxed and even let out a chuckle. Her laugh drifted in the breeze and floated to Ciaran’s ears.

She checked the injury, speaking to the lad with full transparency and gentle care. The boy let out a sob, then nodded, allowing her to wrap the bandage around his ankle tightly.

Ciaran swallowed hard, a strange lump forming in his throat.

Healer and maither…

The woman was more than capable of carving out a life for herself despite everything that had been ripped away from her, and he had let her go.

He had just let her walk out the door without a fight, without saying the words hanging on the tip of his tongue.

Something inside him burned with frustration.

She is supposed to be mine.

As if she could hear the battle raging inside of him, Laura suddenly lifted her head, scanning the area around her. Her expression flickered as if she had felt something, but after a moment, she shook it off and turned back to the boy.

She hadn’t seen him.

Maybe it’s for the best…

Still, he watched.

He watched as the moonlight kissed her skin, watched as she laughed softly at something one of the injured men said, watched as she wiped the sweat from her brow, exhaustion finally creeping in.

She is stretchin’ herself thin.

He shouldn’t care. He had lost people before. Hell, he had lost everything before. But the thought of losing her made something snap inside him.

She would be gone soon, but she wasn’t gone yet. Turning on his heel, Ciaran strode down the stone steps, his mind made up.

If this is all the time I have left, I’m nae goin’ to waste it on watchin’ her from the shadows.

His boots shuffled through the gravel in the courtyard, hoping to reach her in time. The sun had already started to chase the night sky, and he hastened his steps until he saw her walking toward him, patting her skirts dry and wiping her brow.

“Laura?” he managed to say, closing the distance between them.

Her spine stiffened at his voice, her blue eyes rising and piercing through him, sharper than any blade he’d come across. She stayed silent.

“I—” He started to say everything that was eating away at him, but Freya’s voice cut him off.

“Good mornin’, are ye ready? Emily is already in the carriage” she said as she made her way towards them with Fraser bundled in her arms. “Och! Sorry for interruptin’.”

“Nay, ye didnae interrupt anythin’. All is well,” Laura said, walking up to them, her eyes never leaving Ciaran’s as he stood there in silence.

He cleared his throat and stepped aside, letting his sister-in-law pass with ease. She walked to a waiting carriage, climbing inside with Fraser. Ciaran took what he knew would be his final look at the bairn. Those chubby cheeks and red hair would surely haunt his dreams.

His gaze shifted to Laura. She didn’t say anything, only offered him a bitter smile. He watched her follow her sister into the carriage, close the door behind her, and then the carriage started to move.

She was truly gone now.