Page 73 of Promised to the Forbidden Laird

“The marriage.”

“I didnae refuse the marriage,” he corrected her.

“Ye refused tae claim it.”

His jaw tightened. Donaldina stepped closer.

“Ye could insist upon the decree. Nae one within Dun Ard could lawfully prevent ye. The King has denied me petition, Lachlan’s seal is upon the agreement, and the council would gladly have us before Father Maol as soon as tomorrow.”

The mist had begun to settle upon Roy’s hair. Tiny drops caught the fading light along the dark strands. Donaldina had the absurd desire to brush them away. She folded her hands beneath her cloak instead.

“Ye said ye would wait as long as required,” she continued. “Even if I never choose ye.”

He finally spoke then. “Aye.”

“Why?”

Roy looked toward the sea. His profile became severe in the gray light, all scar, shadow and discipline.

“Because something still holds ye back.”

Donaldina’s breath caught. He spoke without accusation. That made the truth more difficult to deny.

“And ye believe freedom will alter that?”

“I believe force willnae.”

“The marriage might secure both clans,” she reminded him. “It would weaken Cormac’s claims and satisfy the Crown. Ye are willing tae risk all of that merely because I hesitate?”

Roy turned toward her fully. “I am willing tae risk a great deal rather than place vows in yer mouth and call them consent.”

His voice was quiet, yet it carried the controlled force she had heard when he gave orders in battle or stood between her and danger. Donaldina felt it pass through her.

“Most men wouldnae trouble themselves with the distinction.”

“I am nae most men.”

“Nae,” she whispered. “Ye arenae.”

Something shifted in his eyes. Donaldina ought to have retreated. Instead, she moved another step nearer. They stood close enough now that she could see the faint exhaustion beneath his eyes. He had not slept well since the war. Perhaps he had not slept well long before it ended.

Roy lowered his voice. “I have seen what becomes of promises made by those who already dream of escape. I willnae force ye intae vows only tae watch ye leave afterward.”

The words were offered without explanation, but Donaldina felt the wound beneath them. It was not merely fear of insult or failed alliance. Something older lived there, some departure he had witnessed, some trust broken beyond repair. She remembered the cliff path and the question she asked him beneath the darkening sky.

Had he ever loved someone enough to miss them every day? Once.

Roy still carried that answer within him. She could see it now in the stillness of his body and the care with which he refused to look directly at her. Donaldina’s heart ached with a tenderness so sudden that it frightened her more than desire.

She stepped into the narrow space between them. “What if I wouldnae leave?”

Roy looked at her. For the first time since she had known him, he appeared entirely unguarded. Surprise opened his expression before hope entered it, cautious, disbelieving and so deeply felt that Donaldina’s breath faltered. His hands remained at his sides, but his body inclined toward hers as though some hidden cord had drawn him forward.

“Donaldina,” he whispered.

Her name had never sounded so intimate. The wind lifted the edge of her cloak. Roy reached out and caught the wool near her shoulder. His fingers remained there, scarcely touching her, yet she felt the warmth of them through every layer.

Donaldina lifted her face. His gaze lowered to her mouth. The garden contracted around them. The sea, the castle and the King’s troublesome decree all withdrew until nothing remained but Roy’s breath mingling with hers and the unbearable distance of inches.