Page 21 of Promised to the Ruthless Laird (Highland Whispers of Love #2)

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

T he dungeon walls pressed in close, the damp air drenched in the scent of blood and moss.

Edin lingered by the door, arms crossed, the burn on her cheek intensifying — not that she paid it any mind. She watched as Finley stepped forward, his breath unsteady. The moment his eyes met Davina’s, something in him shifted. There was something else in his face now — something she had never seen before; something akin to pure love.

Without a word, he pulled Davina into his arms, clutching her as though she might disappear if he let go.

Edin looked away, jaw tight. She had no business feeling the burn in her throat, nor the ache in her chest, yet there it was, a quiet, unwanted thing she couldn’t shake.

Finley held Davina for what felt like an age. His fingers curled into the fabric of her worn out dress, his chin tucked against her hair. “Lass,” he murmured, voice thick, “have they hurt ye?”

Davina pulled back just enough to look up at him, her hands still clutching at his tunic. “Nay, Fin. I swear it. I’m nae hurt.”

His gaze roamed over her, searching. He cupped her face with both hands, tilting it gently, inspecting every angle for even the faintest scratch. Davina smiled slightly but allowed him to continue.

“And how have they treated ye?” His voice was quieter now, but the steel hadn’t left it.

Davina let out a small breath, shaking her head with a tired smile. “Like the most privileged prisoner they’ve ever had,” she said, her shoulders sagging slightly, as though some unseen weight had finally begun to lift. “But a prisoner all the same.”

Davina’s expression wavered, her gaze dipping, and when she spoke again, her voice was softer, fragile. “I’ve been so lonely, Fin.”

That did it. Finley pulled her back into his arms, holding her tighter this time, his chin resting atop her head. “Ye’ll never be lonely again, Davina. I swear it.”

Edin swallowed against the lump in her throat, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. She didn’t belong in that moment, and yet she couldn’t tear herself away. Her own memories stirred, unwelcome and sharp. The cold nights, the empty silences, the times she’d wished someone would hold her the way Finley held Davina now.

It was foolishness to dwell on such things. She pushed the thoughts aside, focusing instead on the two before her. Finley, the ever-loyal protector, and Davina, the sister who’d somehow managed to survive captivity with her spirit intact.

When they finally pulled apart, Finley pressed a hand against Davina’s cheek, his thumb brushing away a tear. “We’ve got ye now,” he said. “Ye’re safe.”

Davina nodded, and for the first time since they’d entered that wretched place, a true, unguarded smile broke across her face.

Edin exhaled slowly, letting herself smile too, just a little.

Then, both of them turned to Edin. “Thank ye, Edin” Finley said, his voice raw with sincerity. “Fer all ye did.”

“Aye,” Davina added, her green eyes shining. “I’d still be rotting in that cell if nae fer ye.”

Edin shifted on her feet, shrugging. “It was naught. I did what needed daein’.”

“Naught?” Davina repeated incredulously. “Ye snuck intae the dungeons alone, took down two guards on yer own, and freed me. If that’s ‘naught,’ then I cannae imagine what ‘somethin’ looks like.”

Finley’s brows shot up. “Truly? Ye took down two guards?”

“Aye, she did,” Davina confirmed. “Like a bloody shadow. They didnae see it coming.”

Edin could feel the heat crawling up her neck. She waved a hand, trying to dismiss it. “They were sloppy.”

Finley smirked, tilting his head. “Och, look at ye, blushin’. It’s becoming a habit o’ yers.”

Edin scoffed, arching a brow. “Watch yerself, Finley, or I’ll be addin’ ye tae the list o’ guards I laid out tonight.”

He laughed, the sound rich with something lighter than she’d heard in a long while. And for the first time in what felt like an eternity, Edin let herself smile, too.

Despite his joy and his laughter, the gravity of the reunion with Davina still settling deep in his chest.

He had expected joy, so that did not come as a surprise. But what he felt was something deeper; something tangled between relief, sorrow, and something else — an awareness he hadn’t anticipated.

His heart had swelled as Davina clung to him, their eyes locking in that moment of unspoken understanding; the months of separation fading as quickly as they'd come. She was there, alive, safe. He had been so sure that he would never see her again, so certain that their family would remain broken in ways too painful to mend. But now — now, everything seemed possible.

Yet, even as he embraced her, that blissful rush was tainted by the hollow ache in his chest. His eyes drifted away from his sister, and he saw her, Edin. Standing off to the side, still, like a shadow too long in the sun, her expression distant, unshifting. She was looking at them, but not really at them. Her gaze was unfocused, lost in thought, in something Finley couldn’t reach. Something that felt like a void.

It pierced him. There was a sadness in Edin’s stillness, something profound.

And Finley understood.

His heart tugged, a mixture of sorrow and longing. The mission was over, and that should have been a cause for celebration. They had found Davina, they had brought her back. But it meant the end of something else that crushed him. It meant the end of Edin.

Finley swallowed hard, feeling the impact of the realization settle inside him.

Edin wasn’t a part of his future — not anymore. They had both known it was always temporary; that their bond would only last as long as the war they fought, but Finley hadn’t expected it to hit him so hard. He had thought, foolishly, that once the mission was over, he would feel lighter, more at peace.

Instead, there was nothing but this aching sense of loss. The truth of it was sinking in. The loss of something precious.

Edin had always been someone who understood him in ways no one else did. Someone who had been there for him, a silent presence in the chaos; an anchor. And now that he had to walk away from it all — from her — it felt like the ground beneath him was crumbling.

It was strange, how emotions could be so overwhelming, so impossible to untangle. Finley had always believed in duty, in the importance of family and legacy, in the necessity of continuing what was established. But standing there, with Edin watching him, he felt something else — something so much more real than duty, than tradition. He felt the pull of his heart. The truth of it.

It wasn’t about duty anymore. No. He had been so focused on the legacy, on continuing the line, on fulfilling what was expected of him, that he had ignored what was right in front of him.

His feelings for Edin — his deep, gnawing, overwhelming feelings — were something he could no longer ignore. It wasn’t about politics, for they were fleeting, unstable, and unpredictable. A marriage of convenience would not give him what he needed. It wouldn’t give him the depth of connection, the warmth, the fierce desire for someone who truly understood him. Someone who would go through hell beside him.

His thoughts spiraled inward, and Finley realized with brutal clarity that he couldn’t live with the regrets of never telling Edin how he felt. He couldn’t continue pretending that what they had was just companionship. It was more than that. It had always been more than that. He had ignored it, buried it, told himself it was wrong, that it couldn’t be. But now, standing there, his heart aching, he knew.

It was about love, and he couldn’t keep denying it. He couldn’t just walk away from the most important connection he’d ever known.

There was a fierce resolution rising in him, fighting against all the years of conditioning, all the years of following what was expected. He was going to tell his parents. He was going to tell them that there was no dishonor in following his heart. That the woman he chose to love would be someone who made him whole, someone who brought him peace, not just a political pawn to be married off for legacy’s sake.

But before he could formulate another thought, he noticed the distant look in Edin’s eyes again. That same emptiness. The space between them.

The need to tell her, to make Edin understand, was overwhelming. He had to speak her. He had to say the words.

Finley shook his head, trying to clear the cloud of emotion that had taken over him. He couldn’t get lost at that moment. There were other things, other priorities, that needed his attention. Davina needed him. His family needed him. The mission might have ended, but there was still work to do, still a camp to return to. The soldiers were waiting, and they had to move on.

He turned to the women, his heart heavy.

“We should go,” Finley said, his voice rough, almost unreadable. “The camp is waiting fer us.”

The ride back to camp was a silent one, the heaviness of all that had passed settling over them like a heavy cloak. The night air was cool against Edin’s skin, suffused with the scent of damp earth and pine. The only sounds were the steady rhythm of hooves against the softened ground and the occasional rustle of wind through the trees.

Finley rode ahead, his broad frame straight and unyielding, with Davina seated behind him, her arms loosely wrapped around his waist. She was exhausted, swaying slightly with the movement of the horse, but she said nothing.

Edin followed beside them, her own mount keeping pace. She found herself glancing toward Finley more than once, as if searching for something in the rigid set of his shoulders.

She thought back to what she had just witnessed. She had been lingering at the edge of the chamber, arms folded tightly across her chest, as if bracing against the tide of emotions swelling within her, watching Finley and Davina reunite, their embrace so tight it seemed they might never let go. It had sent a peculiar ache through her chest. It was raw, unfiltered relief, so potent it nearly stole her breath.

She had clenched her jaw, willing herself to remain steady, but there had been no stopping the way her throat had constricted at the sight of them. A strange warmth had pricked behind her eyes, and she had turned her gaze to the floor, pretending to busy herself with brushing dust off her sleeve.

Edin had stood still, her breath caught somewhere between her chest and throat, as she watched the siblings cling to one another like two halves of a soul torn apart and finally stitched back together. It was as if the world had narrowed to just them, a moment so pure that it had had left her feeling like an intruder, a shadow lurking at the edge of something sacred.

She had swallowed hard, her throat tightening against the rush of emotion she had no name for. Love—she had seen it before, knew of it in the abstract, in the way people spoke of it with wistful sighs or in the way some fought for it as though their lives depended on it. But to witness it like that, raw and unguarded, had been something else entirely. It had settled in her chest like a weight she hadn’t expected, pressing against something long buried, something she thought she had hardened herself against.

Family.

She had long since abandoned any notion of belonging to one. The Triad had taken her in, yes, but there had never been warmth in it, never the kind of connection she had seen between Finley and his sister. The Triad was built on necessity, on survival, on the cold, unyielding logic that bonds were liabilities, and emotions were weaknesses. And for the longest time, she had believed it.

But there, in the dim torchlight of the dungeon, with Finley’s voice thick with relief and Davina’s eyes shining with something she could only describe as unshaken trust, Edin had felt something inside her crack.

What would it be like, she had wondered, to have someone look at her like that? To be wanted—loved—not for her skills, not for what she could do, but simply for who she was?

For years, she had convinced herself that it did not matter, that she did not need it. And yet, the ache in her chest told a different story. If her family—her real family—still existed somewhere out there, what would they say if they saw her now? Would they recognize her? Would they even want her??

A lifetime of fighting, of running, of doing what she had to do to survive—had it made her someone they could no longer love?

It was foolish to think of such things. And yet, the thought would not leave her.

Maybe it was time to leave, to try and find the people she had lost. She had spent so much of her life telling herself she didn’t need anyone, but now she wasn’t sure if that had ever been true.

Her gaze flickered to Finley.

If there was anyone she had ever felt this way toward, it was him. Not in the same way he loved his sister, but in something just as unshakable. He was the only person who had ever made her feel seen, like she was more than just a weapon, more than just a name on the lips of those who feared the Triad. He made her feel?—

She cut off the thought before it could settle, before it could make her weak. But deep down, she knew the truth.

She had spent years thinking love was nothing more than a pretty illusion, a fragile thing that would break under the weight of the world. But now, as she watched Finley, she wondered if maybe, just maybe, she had been wrong all along.

When they finally reached camp, the dim glow of firelight stretched long shadows against the canvas of the tents. The usual sounds of quiet conversation and shifting movement were softer tonight, subdued, as if the entire camp had felt the tremors of what had unfolded.

Finley was the first to dismount, reaching back to steady Davina as she slid from the saddle.

He turned to look at her then, his voice gruff but gentler than Edin had ever heard it. “Ye should rest.”

Davina hesitated for only a moment, glancing between them before nodding. “Aye,” she murmured, her voice raw. “Thank ye, Finley.”

He gave a short nod, but his jaw tightened as if there was more he wished to say..

Without another word, Davina stepped past them, disappearing into one of the empty tents, leaving the two of them alone. The air between them shifted — still charged, but different now. Edin felt the heat of Finley’s presence beside her.

Then, without a word, he reached for her hand.

She blinked, startled by the quiet assurance of it, the warmth of his calloused palm against hers. He didn’t look at her, not yet, just turned and started walking, tugging her along with him.

Edin hesitated but let him lead.

He didn’t let go. He walked in silence, his grip firm but gentle around Edin’s hand.

The firelight flickered in the distance as they stepped beyond the edge of the camp, the sounds of weary warriors settling into rest fading behind them.

Edin let herself be led, her mind tangled in a thousand unspoken thoughts. She did not often feel uncertainty, but something about the solemnity of his silence, the intent in his step, sent a shiver down her spine.

When he stopped at last, turning to face her, the world around them had quieted, save for the wind whispering through the trees. Moonlight streamed between the branches, casting silver along his sharp features. Edin swallowed, suddenly aware of how fiercely her heart was pounding against her ribs.

“Finley—”

“Dinnae speak, lass,” he cut in, his voice low, steady. “Just listen.”

She closed her mouth, watching him with wary eyes. He held her hands between his own now, warm against her skin.

“I ken ye think ye belong only tae the Triad,” he began, his gaze unwavering, voice hoarse with something raw, something near breaking. “That ye've fashioned yerself in their ways, that they’re yer home, yer place. An’ maybe they are. Maybe they always will be.”

Edin felt her breath hitch, the words settling heavy in her chest.

“But if ye ever find yerself wantin' somethin’ more — someone more — then ken this, Edin.” His fingers tightened ever so slightly around hers. “Ye've a place wi' me. Nae just in me clan, nae just as a warrior by me side — but in me heart, as me wife.”

Her lips parted, but he pressed on, giving her no room to protest, no room to run from the truth laid bare between them.

“I love ye,” he said, the words stark, unyielding, and achingly certain. “An’ I’ll nae wed another. There will be nay other woman in me bed, nay other name upon me lips; nay other face I’ll turn tae in the dark o’ night. It will be ye, or it will be naebody. An’ if ye cannae say the same, then I will wait. I will always be waitin’, Edin. Fer as long as it takes.”

The world spun beneath her feet, the strength of his devotion knocking the breath from her lungs.

No man had ever spoken to her like that or had ever offered her a love unshaken by doubt or duty. She had spent her life learning that love was a weakness, a shackle, a fool’s hope. But standing before him now, with the fire of his confession burning between them, she felt none of those things. She felt light. She finally felt free.

Her fingers trembled as they reached for him, as they touched the sharp angle of his jaw. He leaned into her touch, just a little, just enough. She drew a slow breath, steadying herself.

“Ye daft, stubborn man,” she whispered, the words catching on the tears thick in her throat. “Ye mean tae wait on me, then?”

He nodded once, the corner of his mouth tilting, soft and sure. “Fer as long as it takes.”

A breath of laughter, unbidden and bright, slipped past her lips. “Foolish thing.”

“Aye.”

And then she kissed him.

Finley kissed her as if he had been starving for it, as if he had been waiting his whole life for this one moment. His hands cradled her face, his breath mingling with hers, and she melted against him, pressing herself into the certainty of his arms.

When they parted, she rested her forehead against his, her fingers tangled in the hair at his nape. “Aye,” she breathed, a smile breaking free, unguarded, unafraid. “Aye, Finley. I’ll be yer wife.”

His laughter, deep and rich, rumbled against her chest as he swept her off her feet, spinning her once before setting her gently back upon the earth. His hands framed her face, his thumbs tracing the edges of her smile.

“Ye’ll nae regret it, lass.”

“I ken,” she murmured, holding him close. “An’ if I dae, I’ll make certain ye regret it more.”

He barked a laugh, pressing another kiss to her lips, this one lingering, this one speaking of a promise sealed beneath the moonlight.

And for the first time in her life, Edin was not afraid of forever.