“You’re learning quickly,” she said. “Relatively.”
“Relatively,” he said.
“For a man who started very far back,” she said.
“Ye’re enjoyin’ this,” he said.
“Enormously,” she said.
He turned his hand over and closed it around hers, and she felt the warmth and certainty of it.
This is the thing I chose. Not because I had to. Not because my father’s debts required it, the Elders arranged it, or circumstance left me no choice. Because I looked at this man and I chose him—difficult and closed, learning to be open—I chose him: and I would choose him again.
“I need you to know that this is a choice I’m making. Not a situation I’m managing.”
He looked at her. “I ken,” he said.
“I want to hear you say you know,” she said.
“I ken,” he said again. “I have ken it since the library.” There was a pause. “Possibly before the library.”
“Definitely before the library,” she said.
“Aye,” he said. “Definitely.” He turned to look at her fully. “I chose ye too. I want that to be understood.”
“Noted,” she said.
“Ye were extremely inconvenient,” he said.
“Thank you,” she said.
He pulled her close, and she let herself be drawn in. They sat by the low fire with his arm around her, her head resting against his shoulder, for a long time.
Outside, the Highlands were dark and wide and cold and entirely theirs.
Epilogue
The tower room was quiet.
The cold night air came through the narrow window carrying the smell of heather and earth and the particular sweetness of the glens. The candles were low, and the hall below had gone still. It was just the two of them.
Alasdair paused at the window, observing the view. She monitored him from the opposite side of the room, noting the position of his shoulders, his relaxed hair, and the characteristic composure he exhibited—a demeanor she recognized as indicative of careful deliberation.
“Come here,” she said.
He turned. She crossed the room and put her hand flat against his chest and felt his heartbeat, steady and present, and looked up at him.
“You’re thinking too hard,” she said.
“Aye,” he said.
“Stop,” she said.
He looked at her for a moment. Then his hands gently moved to her face, both of them slow and completely intentional. He cupped her jaw, tilted her face up, and kissed her.
Not the way he had kissed her before, urgent and breathless and undone. This was different. This was a man who had decided something, was not in a hurry, and knew it. She felt the difference in his movements. She lifted up on her toes and tried to kiss him back the same way.
His fingers traced the line of her jaw slowly, down the side of her throat, and she felt her breath change. Her hands tightened in his shirt. He pressed his lips to the corner of her mouth, her cheek, the place below her ear, and she turned her face toward him. His hands moved through her hair, and she felt the low sound he made against her skin.