Page 71 of Fallen
The moment drew out, and, reaching up, Craeg stroked Coira’s cheek. “I’ve been thinking,” he said eventually, “about what the abbess said tonight.”
Coira cocked her head. “About ye taking MacKinnon’s place?”
“Aye.” His gaze shadowed as the outside world intruded once more. “The abbess was right. I’m not going to pretend that I’ve never entertained the thought … that those who follow me haven’t mentioned it before.”
“So why the reticence?”
Craeg’s mouth twisted. “I don’t rightly know … maybe the fear I have tainted blood?”
“What?”
He gave a bitter laugh. “I’m not proud of the man who sired me … nor of my half-brother. What if I end up like them?”
Coira stared at him, surprise filtering through her. He was serious. “Ye are as different to Duncan MacKinnon as the sun is to the moon,” she said, vehement now. “The fact that ye even worry about such a thing shows just how different ye are. Ye would make a wonderful clan-chief. Ye would rule these lands justly, and ye would treat those who live here with the same respect ye show those who already follow ye.”
Craeg’s eyes widened. Her intensity had taken him aback, she realized. Yet she couldn’t let him think for a moment that he was like MacKinnon.
“So ye think I should go to Dunan and take his seat in the Great Hall?” he asked finally.
Coira’s breathing slowed. Not trusting herself to answer without betraying her sudden nervousness, she nodded.
“But what if I don’t want to rule alone?” Craeg’s mouth lifted at the corners, and his hand cupped her cheek. “It’s not power I crave, Coira. None of it matters without ye.”
Coira stilled. What was he saying?
“I’ll go to Dunan tomorrow,” he continued softly, his gaze never straying from hers. “But only if ye agree to come with me.”
29
Together
“COME WITH YE?” Coira breathed, her pulse accelerating.
“Aye,” he replied, his expression growing serious. “And when we get there … will ye become my wife?”
Coira’s mouth fell open. She knew it wasn’t an attractive look, yet his words had completely taken her by surprise. Her mind spun at the enormity of what he was asking.
“Life is short, mo ghràdh,” Craeg murmured, his mouth curving into a half-smile that made something twist deep within Coira’s chest. “We must take it by the horns while we have it.”
“This is so sudden,” Coira replied, finally finding her tongue. Her voice was higher than usual, brittle. “Are ye sure?”
“Surer than I’ve been about anything in my life.” Doubt shadowed his green eyes then. “I love ye, Coira … but do ye feel the same way about me?”
The sudden vulnerability on his face, the fear that he’d just exposed himself only to risk being pushed away, made a lump rise in Coira’s throat.
“Aye,” she whispered, her vision blurring. The realization barreled into her with such force that she struggled to draw breath. “I love ye so much that it frightens me.”
Indeed it did. She’d learned years earlier what it was to lose those she loved. After her parents had died, she’d been utterly alone in the world. She’d missed them so much that a permanent ache had lodged itself in her chest for many years afterward. She wasn’t sure she could bear such heartbreak again.
“It scares me too,” he admitted. There was a rough edge to Craeg’s voice, and his eyes now gleamed. He reached down to where her hand still lay upon his chest, his fingers wrapping around hers. “But isn’t it time we both faced our fears?”
“Good morn, fair Coira,” Farlan greeted Coira with a cocky smile. She’d just ducked under the awning, where he and three other badly injured men were laid up. Coira was pleased to see that all of them looked better than they had the night before. Farlan was sitting up, eating a wedge of bannock.
“Morning.” Coira stopped before him and raised an eyebrow. “How’s the leg?”
“Burns like the devil.”
“Let’s take a look at it then.”
