“I did,” Lily said, folding her arms. “But then he convinced me that the people here needed help, and that is why I came.”
Brigid arched an eyebrow. “Lord kens he deserves much more than that.”
Lily gave a small huff. “If ye ask him, he’ll spin a different tale, one where he looks noble and selfless. Nay doubt he’ll tell ye he ran after me and would’ve caught me despite the wound in his thigh.”
Brigid smirked. “Still, it’s well, is it nae? And I’ll say this—he’s even more handsome than he was ten years ago.”
Lily made a face, though her ears reddened. “Ye think so?”
“Aye. I never thought the lad would grow into those eyebrows, but somehow he managed it. Miraculous, really.”
Lily let out a laugh. “That much is true. Surprising, but true.” Her voice softened, her mind drifting elsewhere. “He’s covered in scars now. Marks that werenae there before.”
Brigid’s eyes narrowed, but then her lips curled into a teasing grin. “And how do ye ken that, hm? Ye’ve seen his body?”
Heat rushed into Lily’s cheeks. “What? Nay. That is nae what I mean.”
Brigid’s grin widened. “Of course. Whatever ye say, Sister.”
Silence followed for a beat, not heavy but lingering.
Brigid leaned back on her hands. “Well, ye can deny it all ye like, but ye cannae pretend he hasnae grown more handsome.”
Lily exhaled slowly, her shoulders dropping. “Aye. He has changed.”
“Good,” Brigid said with triumph. “Now, was that so hard to admit?”
“Aye,” Lily muttered, pressing her lips together. “Because it doesnae change the truth. I’m still uncertain about staying here.”
Brigid’s head snapped up. “Uncertain? For heaven’s sake, what are ye waiting for? Look around ye, Lily. This place has everything we could have dreamed of. The view alone makes me jealous. We never had all of this growing up. And these people—they care for ye, Sister. God kens we deserve loving homes after the way everyone treated us when Faither died. And ye’d be able to help so many more if ye were in a position that allows ye to do so.”
“‘Tis nae about riches or the view,” Lily said firmly, fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve. “‘Tis about him. Alasdair. What’s to stop him from leaving again? Or worse, sending me away? He’s done it before.”
“That was ten years ago,” Brigid argued. “Ye were practically bairns. He’s nae the same man now, and it is plain enough to see.” She reached across the bed, her voice softening. “I saw the look in his eyes at the table, Lily. That man cares for ye, and he can barely hide it. Ye’re the only one who pretends nae to see.”
Lily lowered her gaze. “‘Tis easier said than done, and I am only trying to be careful. The last thing Ma told me was nae to let oneman’s betrayal define what love should be. And what if I let him in, only for him to betray me again?”
Brigid’s expression hardened, and she leaned forward until their foreheads almost touched. “Then I’ll kill him meself,” she said flatly. “And I’ll feed his guts to the fish.”
Lily’s mouth fell open before she burst into laughter. She clutched her stomach, shaking her head. “God, Brigid. Ye’re joking, but a part of me believes ye’d do it.”
“Of course I would,” Brigid said with a shrug. “He doesnae get to hurt me sister twice and walk away breathing—nay. He doesnae get to hurt Captain Blackwood’s daughter twice, nae while I’m here.”
Lily wiped her eyes, still laughing, though her chest tightened with something close to relief. “Ye’re mad.”
“Mad enough to defend ye,” Brigid shot back with a grin. “And I’d wager Conall is saying something similar to him at this very moment.”
Lily’s smile softened, and she imagined Conall’s steady voice and firm demeanor. Like Alasdair, his sister’s husband was also a no-nonsense man. If anyone could talk sense into Alasdair, it would be him.
Brigid reached out, taking Lily’s hand in her own. “Ye’ve carried enough alone, Lily. Let someone care for ye properly this time.”
Lily held on tighter than she meant to, her throat clogged with words that wouldn’t come out, no matter how hard she tried.
Alasdair pushed open the door to his study and motioned toward the chair opposite his desk. “Please, have a seat, Laird MacKane,” he said.
Conall walked to the chair, a small smile on his lips, and lowered himself into the seat.
“Valerie’s husband, Laird MacFinn, sends his regards,” he began. “He wished he could come and speak with ye himself, but I decided I’d do it instead.”
