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“ B ut we waited for a year and three months, and only after then did he return—or at least his body. He was killed by one of the men he was fighting in the middle of the rainy battlefield.”

Keira shook her head, watching Shona’s eyes slowly fill with tears. She reached for a clean napkin on the table and handed it to her.

“Oh, ye ken how it is, do ye nae?” Shona asked. “Losing a husband.”

Keira nodded, watching the poor woman dab her eyes with the napkin.

Not once had Keira ever felt like a widow, despite being one.

Perhaps it was because her husband died way too early in their marriage, or because she had never loved him in the first place and everything she did was out of duty.

But she felt it was an insult to other widows to regard herself as one.

However, instead of making these grievances known, she only nodded and gave Shona a reassuring smile.

“And Evander has been the Laird ever since,” Shona continued. “He loves Tommy like his very own. The day our castle was set on fire, me boy was inside. The fire was at its peak, rising to the afternoon sky, but Evander disregarded the danger and ran into the castle to save him.”

Keira felt her stomach twist.

Evander. Brave.

“’Tis why I have this burn mark,” Tommy whispered, raising his arm to show Keira the raw red spot on it.

“’Tis a rather prestigious mark,” she commented, studying it intently. “I’d carry that as a badge of honor for the rest of me life if I were ye.”

“Aye,” Tommy agreed, his voice high-pitched with excitement.

“Whenever his friends ask about the mark, he never hesitates to tell them that he got it from surviving a fire. He tells people every day, the wee rascal.” Shona gave a fond smile, and Keira nodded.

Another moment of silence passed between them. The loss of a husband, Keira could understand to some extent. The loss of a child, on the other hand, might be a little harder for her to comprehend.

“I cannae imagine how scared ye must have been when ye found out that Tommy was still in the castle while it burned.”

Shona laughed. “Me whole body was on fire, as if I were trapped in the castle and nae him. I remember screaming so loud that me voice almost gave out. Dinnae worry. Ye’ll get there someday.”

Keira cocked her head, her brow furrowed in confusion. Shona caught it almost immediately and broke into a quiet laugh.

“Nay, nae the burning part. The part where ye always have to worry about yer bairn. ‘Tis a rite of passage every maither must go through.”

Keira laughed. “I dinnae ken if I’ll remarry or have children, to be honest.”

The words fell out of her lips before she could stop them. Why was she being so tragically honest with a stranger? Was it because of the story she shared? Did she have some kind of bond with Evander’s sister-in-law now?

“Ye’re jesting, are ye nae? Have ye seen yerself?”

Keira laughed.

“When Evander told me that he overtook this castle from a lady, the first thing I thought was that she must be an old crone. Ye were the last thing I imagined. Ye’re a goddess. Men would fail at being men if they didnae run after ye.”

“Ye’re too kind.”

“I am quite certain that during the cèilidh, ye shall find the man of yer dreams. A lot of them will be here, and if the night goes well, ye shall have yer pick of the litter.”

“Aye,” Keira muttered.

She felt the words rest on the tip of her tongue, the response she wanted to give. That she would not be at the cèilidh. That the last thing she wanted was to be in the way. But for some reason, and no matter how hard she tried, the words simply refused to come out.

She returned to her food instead and continued to eat, chewing as silently as she could. With where she currently stood with Evander and his people, it would be a disservice to her to attend the cèilidh.

Shona must have noticed her worry and probably even read the thoughts racing through her mind.

“Tommy would have died if Evander wasnae there. I owe him quite a lot. He’s a good man, and I dinnae ken anyone who is as good apart from his braither.”

“Yer husband,” Keira commented.

Shona nodded slowly. “Aye. Losing a husband is quite terrible, as I said. I am certain ye can understand.”

Oh, can I?

“The point is that I ken the man might seem a bit difficult and—like most men—unable to communicate his feelings, but underneath all of that, he is a good man. Ye can trust me on that.”

Keira nodded, part of her grateful to have heard that—for some reason. Perhaps she had judged Evander a little too quickly. She had perceived him one way all this time, but her conversation with Shona seemed to have challenged that.

Perhaps what she needed wasn’t borders or a way to try to avoid him.

Perhaps what she truly needed was to talk to him and see where it could go from there.

Part of why he was the way he was made sense to her now, and instead of frustration and anger, all she truly felt was nothing short of compassion and pity.

Perhaps she needed to?—

A loud crash outside the dining hall jolted her out of her thoughts, making her grow more conscious of her surroundings. Then, the sounds of heavy and distant footsteps followed. A mild frown creased her face.

What was happening?

She could hear the footsteps stop at some point, and then a ripping sound, as if someone was tearing something into pieces, pierced the air. She rose to her feet and waited, exchanging glances with some of the concerned maids who had also made their way to the dining hall.

“What is happening?” she called, staring at her maids and waiting for them to give her a concrete explanation.

“’Tis the Laird, M’Lady,” one of them responded, her voice sharp and laced with the same worry she had on her face.

“The Laird? What is he doing?”

“He’s with his man-at-arms,” the maid elaborated.

Keira shot Shona a shocked look as the footsteps picked up again, and only after the mention of the man-at-arms was she able to deduce that there were two pairs of footsteps.

“What are they doing?” she pressed, feeling her heart pound in her chest.

The tearing sound continued to echo through the castle, almost loud, wrong , and with practically no regard for anything.

“They’re—” The maid broke off as another rip pierced the air. “They’re pulling down the tapestries, M’Lady. The two of them. They’re both tearing them apart.”

Keira swallowed, listening to the sound grow even louder and closer. Soon, she saw him by the doorway, sword in hand and the most tense expression she’d ever seen on his face.

He walked in, his dark brown eyes fixed on her, unflinching and unyielding. He pulled out his sword again, not bothering to look at Shona or Tommy even once. Keira, fear trapped in her throat, gathered every ounce of her will to resist the urge to take a step back.

He moved closer to her, the handle of his sword gripped tightly in his hand.

Then, he turned away from her, his eyes settling on the large tapestry that hung in the middle of the dining hall and dropped down just a few inches away from the table.

He raised his sword and, in one fell swoop, slashed at the tapestry.

It tore into two, and the other part fell slowly and rather dramatically on the table, right between the lettuce and the cheese.

Keira stared at it, and then back at him, as if he’d just done the unthinkable.

“Nay more of this,” he declared, his voice rough and dangerous.

He then moved even closer to her, and she could smell his sweat and feel the heat that radiated from his body. His forearms glistened in the overhead sunlight, and it took every ounce of her self-control not to reach out and touch them or even linger too much on them.

His eyes locked onto hers again, and she swallowed because he did the same. She could see the brown flecks in his eyes, and it was almost like they came to life when he spoke.

“Nay more borders.” The words came out slowly, as if they’d been waiting on the tip of his tongue for what must have been the longest time.

Keira swallowed and watched him turn around. Just as he had come, he left almost immediately, his man-at-arms hot on his heels.

She was left alone one more time with Shona and the few maids who stood around to watch, some out of loyalty and others out of curiosity. She could hear his footsteps grow distant and more tearing sounds as he moved. He was pulling down the other tapestries as well.

She finally exhaled and pulled out her chair one more time before lowering herself into it. She had seen it in his eyes—the pure determination. The fact that she might have gone too far with the tapestries and he’d had enough of it.

She wanted to speak, wanted to tell him something—anything—but words had failed her at that very moment, and she was absolutely certain that she knew why.

But he was right. He had truly said it, and now she knew she had no choice but to completely stand by it. She had thought about pulling down the tapestries anyway, but he did it because he’d had enough.

And frankly, she was beginning to grow tired of this back and forth as well. One thing was certain, though, and he had said it in no ambiguous terms.

Nay more borders.