“It’s too late now.”
Sol knows how foolish he looks. How he could’ve avoided all of this.
How hard he would have come down on Julio if the roles had been reversed. But none of this changes anything. Moira is here. And now, she is his.
“She—”
“¡Déjalo!” The more Julio speaks, the more Sol itches to silence him forever. He hadn’t known when he chose him as his right hand that this would be the end result. That he would be questioning this man’s loyalty, even as Julio questions his.
“Ten cuidado,” Julio cautions as he turns his face to see through the window. “If she kills her brother today, perhaps we’ll be having a different conversation.”
“When she does,” Sol counters.
“We’ll see,” Julio says, taking a cigarette from the pack in his pocket and placing it between his lips. He doesn’t offer Sol one and while it shouldn’t bother him, it does.
“Don’t fool yourself into thinking you’re indispensable. Because if I want to kill you, even she won’t stand in my way.”
Julio quirks his brow before stepping out of the room and disappearing down the hallway.
And Sol knows there are calls to Spain to be made.
“Julio has your brother,” Sol announces once Moira walks back in the room, the blood of her virginity long forgotten. “He’s been looking for you. I sent Ella to town a few weeks ago, saying she’d found you.”
“You could’ve sent me,” Moira says, but he shoots her a look, reminding her that he’s already tried that route. “But it’s different now.”
“No need to worry. We’ll see where your loyalty lies today.”
“Do you still not trust me?”
“You are in my home and in my life,” Sol responds.
“A dangerous thing to do with someone you don’t trust.”
“Girasol,” he starts.
“Don’t…don’t try to appease me with sweet words.” She tries to shove him away, but he can’t be moved.
He grabs her by her arm and pushes her on the bed. Before she can push off, he climbs on top of her. “I only give sweet words to you—”
“Empty words,” she interrupts, scowling at his smile.
“That mean—”
“Nothing,” she sneers. “Aye, they mean nothing.”
“And what of my actions? Do those mean nothing as well?” He dips his face into her neck. “You wound me, little sunflower.”
“I have not tortured you,” she reminds him.
He grins down at her, capturing both her wrists in his hands before yanking them above her head. “Those days that you weren’t mine were torture enough. I have to try to torture you. You have to breathe to nearly kill me.”
“I never knew you were a reader,” Moira confides.
“What gave me away?”
“When you called me a ‘fearsome thing to behold’…I knew.” It warms Moira, the thought of the moment they’d shared. And the pleasure that soon followed.
“And what’s reminded you?” Sol questions.
“Your words are entirely too poetic to be of your own mind. I wonder what novel I haven’t read that inspired them,” she quips, unable to keep from smirking.
“If you can appreciate my quote, I hardly think you’d miss any other references,” he jests, picking his head up to stare down at her.
“Will you release me?” Moira asks, attempting to lift her hips to push him off.
“Only once you’ve acknowledged my honesty in this matter.”
“I will not,” she nearly yells, turning her head to avoid the impending kiss.
“Then you will stay here.”
“As I always have,” she huffs.
“Why fight me?” he asks, finally sliding down her body and pulling her hands up until she’s standing again.
“Perhaps I find my greatest joy in it,” she says as she heads toward the bedroom door.
“Mierda. This will be a long life,” he mutters to himself.
“I certainly hope so,” Moira calls out on her way out of the room.
She takes her time, dressing for this occasion. The black dress she pulls over her head hits the floor and the boots on her feet are completely hidden.
Moira typically wears her hair free these days, something she hadn’t been able to do, even as a child.
It seems that in every memory of her image, this wild hair of hers was tamed.
She wouldn’t be so tame anymore.
“Are you ready?” Sol calls from the doorway.
She meets his eyes in the bathroom mirror and nods.
They walk out of the bathroom together, his hand on the small of her back.
Julio meets them at the bottom of the steps, following behind them.
“Where are my bow and arrows?” she asks Sol.
“They’re already there,” Julio answers. “Figured we’d make it easier for you.”
Make it safer for everyone else, she wants to say. But she understands the need for caution. A few of their men have died on the other side of her arrows.
The trek to the shed takes longer than she remembers it being and Scotland’s gotten a great deal colder. Time has escaped her, and she wonders how long she’s been here.
And how long she’ll stay here altogether.
When they reach the uneven door to the shed, she can hear what sounds like a violent tussle inside. Sure enough, as Julio opens the door, she can see her brother attempting to crawl away, just to get elbowed in the back.
He groans and rolls over before getting up quickly.
He’s in the guards’ hold and she gets a good look.
It’s Reynold. The middle triplet. He’d always worn his hair a little shorter than the others.
“Release him,” Moira tells the men.
They all stare at her with confusion in their eyes. Sol, beside her, only offers a nod.
At the sight of her, Reynold’s eyes widen. The men toss him to the ground, and he lifts himself up by his arms.
“I was told ye were alive,” he whispers. “But I did’nay think to believe it.”
She sees her bow and arrows hanging a few meters away and steps forward, away from Sol.
“What are ye doin’ here, sister?”
Reynold’s brown hair sticks up in tufts and it reminds her of when they were babies. When she held them close and thought they were the best parts of her life. She’d been excited to have little brothers.
She’d helped them learn how to talk. She’d laughed and clapped and cheered them on. And then, one day, they were all enemies.
Moira mourns the babies she’d held as she walks toward him.
“Were ye stolen by these monsters?” Reynold glares at the men standing off to the sides.
She doesn’t say a word as she reaches for her bow and an arrow.
The air feels still as she stares back at Sol. He is silent, still, waiting for what comes next.
Moira isn’t foolish enough to believe that he trusts her completely. And the notion that the trust between them hangs in the balance of what happens in this shed has crossed her mind.
She can’t wait to prove herself to him.
It’s easy when their desires are so aligned.