Finlay stood expressionless, staring at the ruin of the last remains of his life.
Smoke still curled from the black, blank windows of the castle. Embers glowed in the faint glimmer of dawn. The gray stone of the castle had turned black at all the edges.
Kenna’s hand squeezed his. “Do you think Gray and Mrs. McDermott were gone?”
He’d ordered them gone, but Gray was stubborn. He shook his head. “I canna be sure.”
“Let’s look around.”
Nodding, he let Kenna pull him toward the stables, which still stood whole and undamaged. When they were ten yards from the door, Gray stepped out.
“Gray!” he shouted, and her solemn eyes rose to meet his.
“Laird MacLain.”
“You left as I ordered?” He couldn’t keep the doubt from his voice.
Gray shrugged. “I sent Mrs. McDermott and her boy on to the cottage. I hid in the stable loft while the others were here. They didn’t notice.”
“Well, it’s a relief to see you.”
Gray shrugged again and went about her business, taking the reins of the horse and leading it into the stables.
Finlay simply stood and stared, unsure what to do.
“I think you should build a new castle, Finlay.”
He glanced down to the woman at his side. Dark shadows marred the skin beneath her cheeks. “Why?”
“This one was full of ghosts. You need a new home.” Her jaw edged out. Finlay almost smiled.
“I don’t think we should stay here, Kenna. Let us go somewhere else.”
She bit her lip, uncertain for a moment. “We will do what you like. But you are the leader of the clan, and there are MacLains out there still. You can call them home and start again.”
He shook his head. “I don’t know.” But the idea lodged beneath his breastbone and he knew it could find purchase there.
“Whatever you decide, Finlay,” Kenna said. “But not today. Today we will sleep.”
“Aye. But just to be clear, Kenna, you’re about to bed down with me in a stable.”
“Aye?”
“In a plaid stained with my blood.”
“And?”
“And you still think me a good enough man for you?”
“Ha,” she huffed, her mouth curving up into a grin. Her hands reached for him, brushing his chin before she found his jaw and pulled him down to her. “You’re my man, Finlay MacLain, and you shan’t get rid of me so easily. Hay and blood and burned out castles willna scare me off. I’m yours.”
His heart swelled so large that it pushed against his ribs. “Aye, Kenna, you’re mine. My old life is done. And you’re still mine.”
“Take me to your stables, Laird MacLain.” She laughed.
And so he did.