Molly had made a hasty agreement with Dougal, and less than 24 hours later, she found herself facing Laird MacKenzie. The hour-long discussion revolved around how to handle the situation. Colum-seemingly more interested in fulfilling a document, pushed for a marriage arrangement, which surprised Molly on two counts. She had no idea this was even a practice among the clans, and she had expected Colum to be more sympathetic. But could she blame him? He needed to protect his clan. Dougal argued against it and supported her wish to choose her partner. Eventually, Colum relented, but with conditions. The Laird would permit her to select her own Scotsman for marriage. However, if she failed to uphold her end of the agreement, Molly would lose her right to any protection under Clan MacKenzie, and Colum would have her expelled from the grounds and handed over to the English.

The meeting was a complete disaster for Molly, leaving her in a stressful and precarious situation. Faced with limited choices, she was determined to avoid being handed over to the English by Dougal, which explains his sudden push for her to find a husband. Feeling desperate and anxious about making a fool of herself, Molly carefully weighed her options. Murtagh came to mind – they had always gotten along, and she felt a strong sense of security around him. However, Molly hesitated, fearing that proposing marriage under these circumstances might convey the wrong message and potentially trap him in a marriage tainted by shame. She loved him beyond their friendship, and Molly could not do that to such a sweet man.

Molly felt the weight of her thoughts pressing down on her, urging her to find a way to broach the topic with Murtagh. Determined to clear her mind, Molly set out for a leisurely walk, letting her feet guide her without a specific destination. As she strolled, she noticed the sound of lively chatter and laughter drew her attention to a nearby field, where a small cluster of women had gathered. Intrigued, Molly made her way over and soon realized that the conversation was animated and spirited. She immediately recognized a familiar face, who flashed a mischievous smirk and beckoned her to join the gathering.

As a group of men engaged in a game of Shinty, it offered a delightful diversion. Amidst the players, she couldn't help but notice Jamie commanding attention, drawing the admiring gazes of young women. A sudden racing of her heart caught her off guard, her eyes irresistibly drawn to Murtagh's disheveled yet undeniably captivating figure. His tousled hair and untucked shirt lent him a more approachable air, and she found his rugged appearance incredibly appealing. She wondered if he had even noticed her until his gaze turned towards her. A sly smile graced his lips as their eyes met, and in that instant, a shared smile seemed to convey a sense of an unspoken secret between them. For a fleeting moment, Molly dared to believe that perhaps everything would turn out just fine.

Molly was surprised when Murtagh abruptly paused his game to engage in conversation with her, yet he did. The Scotsman's casual approach left Molly with a sense of unease. Perhaps it was due to the romantic feelings she harbored for her friend. Or the impending conversation that loomed over her like a swinging pendulum, creating a sense of dread.

"You did not need to quit playing on my account."

Murtagh drew closer to Molly, gazing down at her as he softened his expression. "I only do what I want to do." Even though he never spoke about it, he found himself constantly distracted by thoughts of her. Seeing her during the day provided the fix he craved, if only for a short time until their next meeting. "There is something I need to discuss with ye anyway."

"Funny enough I have to talk to you too," Molly added, trying to play off her unease.

Once Murtagh gathered his belongings the two strolled away from the others and hid themselves under the canopy of a lone tree—the feeling of overwhelming dread washed over Molly, wondering who would speak first. Her eyes studied her friend as he raked his fingers through his hair slicking it back into his usual ponytail, until he casually glanced up at her.

"What did ye want to say?"

Molly gazed at him, her eyes filled with uncertainty, and then she hesitated. The idea of withholding the information flitted through her mind, but she couldn't bring herself to treat him with such disrespect. The air hung heavy with her silence, and Murtagh's anxiety mounted as he waited for her to speak. Finally, she broke the silence.

"You won't like to hear what I need to say."

Suddenly she had his full attention. "Molly,"

Molly refused to meet his gaze, but as she steeled herself, she finally locked eyes with him and spoke with unwavering resolve.

"I made an arrangement with Laird MacKenzie and Dougal allowing me to stay here permanently."

"What sort of arrangement are ye talking about?" inquired Murtagh, striving to maintain his composure. Nonchalantly, the Scotsman started to tuck his shirt into his kilt, using the task as a distraction.

Her heart pounded in her chest, anticipating his response before he said a word: "A marriage proposal."

"What?!" Murtagh bellowed. With a sense of urgency, he realized they needed to relocate the conversation and signaled for Molly to follow. "We're not discussing this here."

The pair swiftly sought refuge in the seclusion of the healer's chambers. As they entered, the door closed with a resounding echo against the rugged cobblestone walls. Molly glanced over her shoulder, observing Murtagh perching himself on the edge of a table. His gaze never wavered as she ignited several candles, casting a warm and much-needed glow throughout the room.

"How did this happen?" Murtagh started.

"Dougal cornered me last night. I assure you I did not have a choice." She started.

"Don't act dobber." Murtagh huffed. "We all have choices, lass."

For a fleeting instant, Molly fell silent, her expression hardening as she asserted with unwavering conviction, "You have choices." She grasped the implications of her new societal role while Murtagh's disingenuous innocence grated on her. "Laird MacKenzie made it abundantly clear: I must comply, leave the compound, or face being handed over to the English by Dougal."

Murtagh was struggling to find the right words. His frustration was not at her; he was grappling with the situation's complexity. Murtagh made promises to protect her. Now, he feared he couldn't keep those promises. As he watched Molly approach him, his eyes moved from the floor to her. Then, he hesitantly spoke, "I don't know what to do."

Molly finally saw the opportunity she had been hoping for. Murtagh looked away, his expression filled with self-reproach. He was struggling with something. Stepping closer to him, Molly gently took Murtagh's hand in hers and said, "I think I have an idea." She smiled warmly, hoping to offer some comfort.

"Maybe you could marry me?"

Murtagh raised his head, gazing into Molly's gentle eyes and innocent expression. Despite the emotion hidden behind his stoic visage, she had brought joy to his heart. As he ran his fingers through her hair, Murtagh drew her near, their foreheads touching. He had often pondered the taste of her lips during lonely nights. Their eyes locked, and Murtagh felt her warm breath against his skin before reluctantly pulling away. "You cannot marry me, Molly," he murmured.

When he pulled away, Molly could only stand frozen in disbelief. That was not what she thought would happen, but she was probably delusional to think otherwise. They had been through so much together and had such a profound bond. She was confused and hurt, but after the initial shock wore off, she cleared her throat and forced a smile. "It was a silly idea," she said, trying to laugh it off, though it felt like her heart was about to give out.

"Molly," Murtagh quickly added. He knew Molly too well; her facade was not going to work. Cupping her chin in his hand, Murtagh softly tilted her head so she could look at him. "I'm leaving tomorrow," he admitted.

"Leaving?" She questioned. "But we just came home." her voice cracking as she spoke.

"Aye, but I have obligations to Laird MacKenzie." But it wasn't the entire reason.

"That's okay, we can elope right now," she suggested, hoping to persuade him. But from the look on his face, it had to be something else. "Is it me?" she finally questioned. Perhaps she had been mistaken, and his affection had been friendship. The tears she had been holding now welled in her eyes.

"Yer the best thing to happen to me in a long time." He tried to reassure her the best he could. The heaviness Murtagh felt in his chest, knowing he was the one to cause her this kind of pain, felt unbearable, but he was only doing what he thought was best.

No. Murtagh didn't have the right to try to comfort her while he was breaking her heart. With a furrowed brow, she pushed his hand away and demanded, "What are you not telling me?"

Suddenly Murtagh's pride took over and instead of responding, he turned his back on her.

"You are the most honest man I have ever met, but for some reason, you are lying." All she got was silence from him. "After everything we have been -" she couldn't finish her sentence before he cut her off.

"I'm afraid!" He cried as he turned to face her. "I'm afraid I won't return this time." That was the truth. The English were lining the countryside with the drums of war following close behind, and with what they had just experienced, he could feel death lurking in the shadows. "Please, don't make me burden ye with that." his voice softened.

"Don't go," Molly pleaded.

"I have responsibilities." Murtagh retorted.

"Murtagh, I'm begging you, please do not leave."

"What kind of man would that make me?!" Murtagh shouted as his internal struggle finally erupted.

"A happy one!" Molly yelled.

"Be reasonable!" He hesitated to admit it, but she was not wrong. How he had been living his life was starting to run its course. The constant coming and going, lustful women, the nightly drinking - he gave little thought to it all when he was younger. But now, settling down and creating a homestead with a loving wife offered a strong appeal. However, old habits die hard.

"Murtagh, I love you. Please do not leave the safety of those gates and stay with me," she said. Molly risked making a fool of herself to protect the man she loved from himself. "Don't you think we can be happy together?" she asked in her final plea.

She loved him. God, he had spent a lifetime waiting and hoping to hear those beautiful words, and Molly, his Molly, spoke them. Murtagh felt his body wanting to run to her, kiss her as he should, hold her as he should, and tell her all he wanted to say since their meeting in the courtyard. But Murtagh stopped himself; he could not get close because he felt he didn't deserve her. After what felt like a lifetime, the Scotsman spoke.

"Perhaps in another lifetime."

No, she didn't expect him to say anything back; she only hoped to knock some sense into him, but even after all that, he was as stubborn as ever. Molly couldn't look at him anymore; her heart couldn't take it. With a weary sigh, she headed toward the door, the weight of the situation bearing on her. "Blow those candles out before you leave." She softly requested, her voice reflecting the mix of frustration and resignation she felt.

She told him that she loved him, there was nothing more to say.