Page 28 of Time of the Druid (Stones of Scotland #7)

Chapter 28

N orah tried to get on with her evening as if nothing had happened, but how could she pretend that everything was fine? Those horrible words still swirled around and around in her head—the words she couldn’t believe she’d said.

I’m starting to wish you’d drunk that damn tea.

How could she have said that to Matthew? How could she have been so cruel? And of course, it wasn’t even remotely true. She’d lost her temper, but she hadn’t lost her love for Matthew. She was relieved that he’d turned down that tea—no, overjoyed.

So why had she said it?

Shaking her head at her own stupid temper, Norah sat hunched on the edge of the long wooden bench, her shoulders tense beneath the thick braid that trailed down her back. The roundhouse was loud with laughter and the clatter of wooden cups and bowls, but none of it touched her. She stared down at the heavy pottery plate in front of her, where barley stew congealed into a cooling lump beside a chunk of brown bread. The food steamed faintly, but even the smell, rich with herbs and roasted meat, turned her stomach.

Matthew hadn’t appeared for dinner—Norah knew that for certain. She’d watched the door so hard she could describe the shape of every hinge. Faces had come and gone, women and warriors alike, but never the one she needed to see. Eventually, under Fion’s gently insistent urging, she had picked up her spoon and stirred half-heartedly at the stew, letting the thick broth slop quietly against the rim. The heat did little to warm her. She felt chilled from the inside out, and no amount of food or fire could change that.

She forced down a mouthful, chewing woodenly. It stuck in her throat like guilt.

Norah, you callous, stupid idiot. You had a chance at something good, and you pushed it away.

Jack had been right after all. Matthew was the good guy and Norah was the bad guy. She’d known that all along, somewhere deep down—after all, good guys didn’t hire assassins, did they? But she’d somehow convinced herself that everything she did was out of necessity, not out of choice. She’d chosen to say those words to Matthew, though. Her choice, for once, and she’d done the wrong thing.

“Is everything alright?” Fion asked softly from the seat beside her. “You’ve barely touched your food.”

“I had a big fight with Matthew,” Norah admitted. “I want to apologise—I need to apologise—but he isn’t here.”

Fion nodded, her face filled with warm understanding.

“I saw him crossing the causeway before I came in here for dinner. Perhaps you’ll find him on the lakeshore.”

Norah surged to her feet so abruptly that her wooden chair scraped back with a screech and toppled over behind her, clattering against the packed earth floor. Every head at the table turned toward the sudden noise, but she barely noticed their stares. Heat flushed her cheeks and her heart pounded against her ribs. She didn’t wait to offer apologies or explanations. The walls of the roundhouse felt suddenly too close, too loud, too full of people. She had to move—had to find him.

“Thank you, Fion! I know exactly where he is.”

Without even giving her new friend time to reply, Norah rushed out of the roundhouse. Perhaps there was still time to fix this. Perhaps she could still choose to be on the right side of this story.

Just as she’d hoped, she found Matthew on their secret beach. The narrow strip of sand was quiet and windswept, the lake lapping at its edges with a sound as soft as breath. Purple twilight cloaked the trees in long shadows, and the air held the scent of damp moss and woodsmoke drifting faintly from the crannog behind them.

Matthew sat hunched on a flat grey rock at the shoreline, his bare feet plunged into the icy water as small waves lapped around his ankles. His hair, still wet from the earlier rain, clung to his neck and temple. His tunic stuck to his back in damp patches. He looked utterly still—too still.

Norah paused when she saw him, struck by the desolate curve of his shoulders. He didn’t turn as she approached, but she saw the telltale shift—the slight stiffening of his posture, the way his fingers curled tighter into his lap. He knew she was there. But he didn’t speak.

“I’m sorry,” Norah said softly. “I’m so sorry for everything I said and did. It’s just that… it’s been a long time since something good happened in my life, and I’m scared.”

Matthew still didn’t acknowledge her presence. Norah walked a little closer until she could make out his profile—that strong nose, the sharp jawline. He was so beautiful it made her heart ache.

“I was scared that trusting you would be a mistake because there are so few people I can trust,” she said, praying that he would hear her out. “And I’m scared that you’ll turn out to be so much better than me, and I won’t deserve you.”

There. That was the truth, laid out in words so bare that they terrified her.

If I’m the bad guy, how can I ever deserve someone good?

Finally, Matthew turned to look at her. His blue eyes were icy cold, but under Norah’s astonished gaze, they softened into warm compassion.

“Norah, I’m sorry too,” he breathed. “I’m sorry for hiding things from you, and I’m sorry for making you believe that you’re the bad person in all of this. You’re Edmondson’s victim just as much as anyone else, and I am going to help you.”

“I don’t really wish you’d died,” Norah offered weakly.

Matthew laughed, the sound filling Norah with the most powerful relief she’d ever felt.

“I know,” he said, opening his arms to her.

She ran across the final few steps of sand that separated them, her boots slipping slightly on the damp pebbles. The wind caught at her braid, snapping it against her back as the scent of lake water and woodsmoke filled her lungs. When she collided with Matthew, he rose to meet her, catching her in his arms with a force that nearly knocked the breath from her lungs. He held her tightly, his tunic damp and cool against her cheek, his chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. Norah pressed herself close, gripping the fabric at his back as she trembled—half from cold, half from the tidal wave of fear and relief crashing through her body.

There. Everything laid out on the table, everything declared. No more secrets.

Well, except those three powerful little words that she was holding deep inside. But they could wait.

For now, she tilted her head back and reached up to kiss Matthew with all the force she could muster. He faltered slightly, apparently taken off guard, then kissed her so hard that she stumbled backward. He came with her, supporting her with every step she took, as she threw her arms around his neck and forgot about everything except his kiss.

He lowered her carefully to the damp sand, his arms cradling her body. Norah sank into the cool softness beneath her and closed her eyes, letting go of everything she no longer needed. Everything that wasn’t Matthew. His scent enveloped her, his body was all around her, his moans and whispered demands were soft in her ears. She let him control her body as her mind let go. Bliss .

They didn’t make it as far as taking off all their clothes, but still their bodies found each other, and Norah screamed out his name. I love you , she almost said, but the last little trace of her rational mind held the words in. Soon.

Afterwards, they helped each other neaten their clothes again. Dusk had fallen, coating the lake in shades of deep purple, and wrapping the beach in the long shadows of the surrounding trees. Norah snuggled against Matthew, leaning her head on his shoulder as they stared out at the distant lights of the crannog, reflected on the sparkling water. Neither of them spoke. What was there to say?

Norah could not remember any time when she had felt so happy, so safe, so right in mind and body. She let herself sink into the bliss.

But one little part of her mind, that last tiny rational corner, whispered a warning.

This is too good to last.