Mairead's POV
I arrive at the cottage with something close to hope in my chest. Foolish, maybe, after Bridei's warnings.
But what Domnall and I have is real, it has to be real. The way he looks at me, the way he touches me, the desperation in his voice when he says my name—that can't be a performance.
Tonight, I need clarity, need to know if this relationship has a future or if I've been building castles on sand.
He's already there when I push open the door. Pacing, tension radiating from every line of his body. When he sees me, something in his expression shifts—relief mixed with hunger mixed with something I can't quite name.
"Mairead." He crosses to me in three strides. "I wasn't sure you'd come."
"Why wouldn’t I?” A sense of foreboding that something bad was coming settled in my chest. “Did something happened?"
"No, no, it’s just… After the wedding planning yesterday, and my mother…" He stops himself, shakes his head. "It doesn't matter. You're here now."
The tension between us is immediate, electric. He reaches for me and I go willingly, letting him pull me close.
His mouth finds mine with desperate urgency, and for a moment I let myself get lost in it. In the heat of him, the want, the way his hands grip my waist like I'm something precious he's afraid of losing.
We kiss like people who know time is running out. Because it is. Eight weeks until the wedding. Eight weeks until everything ends.
He presses me against the wall, his mouth moving from my lips to my jaw, down to the sensitive spot below my ear that makes my knees weak. His hands slide beneath my clothes, palms warm against bare skin.
"God, I've missed you." His voice is rough against my throat. "Two days felt like weeks."
I'm breathless, wanting him, but Bridei's question won't leave my mind. Has he mentioned breaking the engagement specifically?
"Domnall." I try to speak carefully, to ask without demanding. "We need to talk about…"
"Later." He kisses me again, deeper. "We can talk later. Right now I just need—"
"No." I pull back slightly, just enough to meet his eyes. "Now. We need to talk now."
Something flickers across his face—wariness, maybe, or resignation. But he nods, stepping back to give me space.
"Where is this going?" The question comes out quieter than I intended. "Us. This. What we're doing here."
His eyes weiden. "Mairead…"
"I need to know what you're planning. What happens after the wedding? What happens to us?"
He's quiet for a long moment. Then he moves closer again, his hands framing my face. "I want you, you know that. I need you. I can't imagine my life without you in it."
The words are beautiful and make me feel like the most special woman on planet Earth. But despite that they're not the answer I’m looking for.
"That's… not what I asked." I keep my voice steady. "What happens after you marry Elspeth? Do we keep meeting in secret? Do we pretend we don't know each other? Do we…"
"Yes, right, sorry." He kisses my forehead, my temple, speaking between each touch. "I've been thinking about this, about how to make this work. There's a way, Mairead. A way we can be together."
Hope flares in my chest. "You're going to break the engagement?"
He goes very still. "The engagement can't be broken, not without political catastrophe. My mother has allies, connections, promises made on both sides. Elspeth's family would…" He stops. "It's complicated."
The hope dies. "Then what way? What solution?"
He takes a breath. His hands slide down to my shoulders, then to my waist, pulling me close again.
"I'll marry Elspeth. I have to. But you," His mouth finds my neck, lips tracing patterns that make it hard to think. "You'll be the woman I actually choose. The one who matters."
"I-I’m not sure I understand..." My voice is barely above a whisper.
"I'll provide everything."
Still kissing my neck, his hands moving over my body like he thinks the physical intimacy will make this easier to hear.
"A house in town. Somewhere comfortable, private. Complete security. The best education for the children. Protection from my mother's reach. You'll want for nothing."
The words sink in slowly, their meaning crystallizing with horrible clarity. Did he just ask me to be his mistress?..
I freeze, go utterly still in his arms. Domnall notices immediately, pulls back to look at my face. What he sees there makes him go pale.
"Mairead?"
"Domnall." My voice is quiet, deadly quiet. "Are you asking me to be your mistress? To hide in some house you pay for while another woman wears your ring and bears your name and sleeps in your bed?"
"It's not like that."
"Then what is it like?" The fury is building now, volcanic and unstoppable. "Explain to me how being your kept secret is different from being your mistress."
"You'd be the one I love, the one I choose. Elspeth would just be…"
"Your wife." The word comes out sharp. "Your legal wife. The woman recognized by society, by your family, by everyone who matters. While I'm what? The woman you fuck in a cottage when your actual wife isn't watching?"
He flinches. "Mairead, wait—"
"Wait?" I laugh, and the sound is bitter. "You want me to teach my children that love means settling for scraps, Domnall. That their mother accepted being someone's secret because she was too weak or too desperate to demand better."
"The children would be provided for—"
"With your money, your charity, living in a house everyone knows belongs to Lord Morvaine's mistress." I push away from him, putting distance between us. "Do you have any idea what that would do to them, what people would say? Do you have any idea how they'd be treated?"
"I'd protect them."
"How?" The question cuts through his protests. "How exactly do you protect bastard children from a society that defines them by their illegitimacy? How do you protect them from whispers and cruelty and being forever known as the offspring of a nobleman's whore?"
"Don't call yourself that, Miaread."
"That's what I'd be!" My voice cracks. "That's what everyone would call me. And you'd go home every night to your respectable wife while I sat in a house you bought, waiting for whatever time you could spare between your actual life and your secret one."
He's staring at me like I've slapped him. "I thought you'd understand. I thought you wanted to be together."
"I did." The admission costs me. "I do. But not like this. Not as your kept woman, hidden away like something shameful. Not while you perform the loving husband with someone else and visit me when it's convenient."
"Mairead, please…" He reaches for me.
I step back. "No. Don't touch me."
"Can we just talk about this?"
"We're done talking." I'm shaking now, but my voice is steady. "I won't do it. I refuse to model that kind of surrender for Tavish, Lachlan, and Fenella. They deserve to see a mother who knows her worth, who doesn't accept being someone's secret."
"So what are you saying?" His voice has gone flat.
"I'm saying any relationship between us beyond teacher and parent is finished." I straighten my dress with trembling hands. "You're not to touch me, you're not to seek me out for these meetings, you're not to make promises you have no intention of keeping."
"That's not fair."
"So does your proposition." I move toward the door. "Here's what's fair: you get to marry your suitable bride, keep your mother happy, maintain your position and your reputation. And I get to keep my dignity and teach my children that they're worth more than being someone's shameful secret."
"Mairead, wait—"
"Goodbye, Domnall."
I walk out with my head high. The evening air is cold against my flushed face. Behind me, I hear him call my name, but I don't stop. Don't look back.
Because if I look back, I'll see him standing there in that cottage, and some weak part of me might consider his proposal. Might think that having him as a secret is better than not having him at all.
But I have three children who are watching, learning, absorbing lessons about love and worth and what it means to value yourself.
And I won't teach them that settling for scraps is the same as being chosen.