Page 42 of Saved By the Highland Beast
The heat rose in her cheeks as the tips of his fingers gently brushed her shoulders. Visions of his hands all over her body made her slightly flustered as she tried her best not to let him see what she was thinking about. The worst part was that she desperately wanted him to touch her again.
“This came for ye,” Dean said, drawing her away from her thoughts. He seemed to be even more caring and attentive to her needs as he walked around the table and retrieved a silver tray with an envelope before handing it to her. “The postmark is from London.”
“Thank you,” she said hesitantly as she reached for the envelope. She hadn’t had time to think of her stalker in the past few days. There was every chance that he had found where she was and had sent her another note. Her hands trembled slightly as she broke the red wax seal and retrieved the letter. “Oh, thank goodness.” She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw her mother’s handwriting.
Dean looked at her with one eyebrow raised.
“It’s from my mother,” she quickly explained and turned the letter over. But her relief faded, and she raised a hand to her mouth.
“I hope it’s nae bad news?” Dean asked as he reached for a bannock.
“My mother is very ill,” she said as tears filled her eyes. “She’s asked that I return to London at once. She would never ask me to come if it wasn’t absolutely necessary.” She began to cry, unable to hold the tears back any longer.
Pushing his chair back with his knees, he quickly stood and made his way to her side. “I’m sure everythin’ is fine,” he said soothingly as he placed a hand on her shoulder. “Yer maither probably just wants to see ye again. Ye should go,” he added reassuringly.
“But what about Cillian’s schooling?” She wiped the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand.
“The lad has more than enough reading to keep him busy while ye are gone. He can also focus a bit more on his sword skills until ye return.”
“Oh, Dean…” She stood and threw her arms around his neck.
He pulled her against his chest, drawing her closer. “Yer family must come first. We will wait for ye to return. Take as much time as ye need.”
Sophia took a deep breath and inhaled the scent of his skin as he held her tight. “I’ll try and be back as soon as I can.”
“Aye,” he said softly. “The castle will be waiting for ye.”
Sophia wondered if he meant thathewould be waiting for her, or if he had only meant that Cillian and her position would still be here. What would time apart mean for them both? They hadn’t even had time to discuss what their evening together meant for the future.
She battled with her feelings for the laird and the fear that was bubbling up in the pit of her stomach. There was a nagging feeling in her heart that said she felt more for him than she was willing to admit.
* * *
Sophia lifted her skirts as she ran up the stairs two at a time, not even bothering to stop and greet the butler or any of the servants as she made her way up to the gallery. Sweat beaded her brow as her heart beat in her ears. Her only concern at present was her mother.
Stopping at the door that led to her mother’s room, she took a deep breath and willed her heartbeats to return to normal. She’d cried and prayed during the arduous ride back to London, begging God to make her mother well again.
“Mama,” she whispered as she pushed open the door and stepped into the dimly lit room.
She was met with a deafening silence that made her heart sink into the pit of her stomach.
The drapes were drawn almost all the way shut, the only sliver of light coming through a tiny gap in the curtains, giving just enough light for her to make out the figure that lay beneath the bed covers.
“Mama,” she whispered again as she neared the bed. Again, she was met with no reply.
Sophia began to cry as she reached the side of the bed. Her mother lay motionless with her head on the pillow, the sheets neatly tucked under her sides as if she hadn’t moved in a while. Her face was pale and drawn.
“Oh, Mama.” Sophia wept as she fell to her knees and buried her head in the crisp white sheets.
I was too late.Why did I run away in the first place? Why didn’t I just stay here and face my problems?
“Sophia?”
Her head snapped up as she heard her mother’s voice calling to her.
“Mama!” she exclaimed in shock and reached for the frail white hand that poked from beneath the blanket. “I thought I was too late!”
Libby smiled at her. “I was just resting, dear. I’m already feeling much better. You know how Anderson is when she tucks me in. A tornado from the East wouldn’t be able to move the sheets,” she said with a gentle smile, her voice still laced with sleep. “No matter how long she’s been my maid, she will still fuss and cluck about like a mother hen.”
