*Cait*
The fire crackles softly in the hearth, casting flickering shadows across the stone walls of my chamber. Rory sits across from me, a mug of whiskey cradled in his hands.
It’s not proper for a woman of my standing to have a man in her private chamber, but tonight, with the threat of battle looming over us, I set tradition aside.
We’ve faced death side by side on the run, and shared cold nights pressed close for warmth. Now my room, with its heavy tapestries and the faint scent of lavender, suddenly feels less like a place for solitude and more like a sanctuary when he’s near.
Rory doesn’t look at me like some prize to be won or even a prize to be protected. He sees me, all of me. He sees my strength, my doubts, my stubbornness. That’s something no man here has done before. I’m n
