Page 60 of A Sinful Night with a Scot
“She doesnae have long, me laird.”
Hamilton had hurried to the bed, wrapping his arms around his wife. But Keane had stayed back, looking at the woman who lay there. She did not look like his mother. Her eyes were near black and sunken, her face was white as snow, and her lips were dry and cracked.
Not once did she open her eyes. Not once did she move as his father broke down in tears by her side. Her chest lifted and fell several times, a small movement that could barely be seen. And then, it stopped. Just like that.
On that day, the castle mourned greatly, for both mother and child were lost.
And thus, Keane struggled with a dilemma. As customary as it might be to produce an heir, that memory had haunted him for life. Having never been married before, it had not been something he had concerned himself with. Now, however, he was.
Four days had passed. Four days where Keane felt he and Elsie growing ever closer. Without even realizing it, she had toppled the barriers he had spent so long constructing. And she had to make no extra effort to do so. His beloved wife was just her beautiful, kind, open and caring self. The difference between them and how they now interacted with each other since returning, was like night and day. And it was not going unnoticed in the castle.
Alisdair and Keane took a walk around the castle grounds that morning. The day was fresh and warm, and Keane felt good. Alisdair, too, seemed more than pleased.
“I cannae remember the last time I saw ye this settled. This happy,” Alisdair said. “Perhaps Elsie is a sorceress, for she certainly seems tae have cast a spell upon ye.”
Keane smirked at his friend, who smiled broadly as he spoke.
“A spell I am happy tae remain under, me friend. She has brought a new perspective tae me life, fer she is like a breath o’ fresh air. I feel alive again.”
“Ye look it,” Alisdair replied. “I’m happy fer ye. Truly, I am.”
“Thank ye.” Keane paused a beat, and then said, “And I am sorry fer me conduct over this last year, Alisdair. I ken I cannae have been easy tae be around.”
“Nay. Ye’ve been a bloody pain in me arse,” Alisdair quipped.
The two men burst into laughter. But when the laughter died down, Keane continued.
“Me soul, consumed with hatred, and anger and revenge, slipped into a dark place. I could think o’ naething else but smiting the man who had taken something so precious from me life. Now, though, those things hardly enter me mind.”
“That is what love does tae a man, Keane. It takes yer heart and wraps it up, making yer experience a sensation nay other emotion can match. Every day is a perfect day, and every moment is one tae be savored.”
The laird’s heart skipped at the idea that he might be in love. That he might actually love Elsie.What else could it be?Yet, he had not admitted that to himself, let alone anyone else. Thus, he remained quiet about his own feelings, and instead, turned the conversation to his companion.
“Ye talk like ye have experienced it,” Keane said. He was confused though, for he knew well that Alisdair had never had a serious love affair.
Alisdair shook his head. “That privilege hasnae been bestowed upon me.”
“Yet,” Keane added.
“Aye. Yet. I kent o’ it only from what I have seen and read. And believe me, me friend, I can see it in ye, fer ye are practically glowing.”
Then the subject moved on.
“There has been nay more word from Laird Gunn,” Alisdair said, reporting the news. “Nor have the scouts spotted his men since the attack.”
But Keane was no fool. Defeating six men would not have put Gunn off. He was holding back. Perhaps waiting for something. What he was waiting for, Keane did not know.
“The guards are still doubled on the wall and the men prepared, though?” Keane said, asking the question he already knew the answer to.
“Naething has changed,” Alisdair confirmed.
“Good.”
Later that morning, Keane found Elsie in the drawing room. But he did not receive the usual bright, warm greeting he had become accustomed to. Instead, she looked utterly distraught. Holding a letter, she sat on a chaise lounge with her head in her hands.
“Little one,” Keane said, kneeling in front of her. “What troubles ye?”
Without lifting her head, Elsie held the letter aloft. “Me faither has sent me a missive,” she replied.
