Page 77 of The Highlander's Temporary Bride
Grant did not speak, for her words stirred all that yearning and hope inside him, but his instinct was to crush it down.
“I confess I am surprised by ye,” Brenda added, dropping his hand. “Will ye nae fight for her? Aye, she might be scared?—”
“Do ye think I’m nae scared either?” Grant blurted out. “After everythin’ that happened here and at Briorn? I heard about what happened to MacLarsen and his wife—Grierson’s schemes.” He shook his head. “I’m terrified of something worse happenin’, of everything that I…feel.”
His mother seemed to suppress a laugh, her eyes filling with joy, and she shook her head. “Oh, Grant,” she murmured and reached up to pat his cheek. “Ye ken what to do, there’s a good lad.”
And with that, she swept out of the room, leaving him staring at Emma’s letter.
“A letter for you, My Lady,” said a stiff-backed maid, her accent flawless and crisp, her hair neat, and her expression serene.
Emma had been sitting in the parlor, listless and unsure of what to do with the day ahead of her. She’d arrived a week ago, and yet, every day, she expected to wake up in Banrose Castle. The ache in her heart grew worse every day, too. How she missed that old, fine castle and its staff. The breathtaking views from the windows, the gardens, and the endless sense of freedom.
She had not realized how hemmed she’d been until she returned. Everything felt so unnecessarily stiff here. The servants were so meticulous, the halls were so quiet, and the house was so flawless that she could not shake the feeling that she was a rakish forest spirit who’d wandered in by mistake.
Even their accents sounded odd to her.
The maid cleared her throat delicately, and Emma realized she’d been staring at the letter, rather than taking it. Hastily, she offered her warm thanks and a tremulous smile, before accepting the thick paper.
The maid curtseyed, her expression as serene as ever, though Emma suspected the girl thought her quite mad.
Perhaps she was, for it was on the tip of her tongue to tell the maid to dispense with such formalities. But she suppressed that urge.
Scotland had changed her.
Is that what I was truly afraid of?
She sighed as she saw her aunt’s bold script. The letter said that they would be there within the week and that much needed to be done. In fact, Emma should start packing for London now, which made her heart sink to her stomach.
I know not what you were up to, my darling, but it will not hold. Her Majesty does not like it when her will is defied, even by the most strong-headed of girls.
Yet, she is also merciful and understanding. I think an accord can be reached.
All I ask is that you do not do anything reckless until we arrive.
Matthew is quite upset. I say this to warn you—though your mother seems serene. We shall figure this out, my dear, take heart.
Emma set the letter aside, her heart beating strangely. Her father was coming from London, and her mother was coming from Scotland. Lavinia had been with Agnes all this time, closer to Banrose than Emma had realized.
Tears fell on the letter, and Emma hastily wiped her cheeks. It seemed that she’d done nothing besides weep since she’d left Banrose. And yet she found herself flinging the letter aside, hating that her family was coming to take her. That she could not be trusted with the next steps.
Meanwhile, she’d also received a letter from her mother, telling her about Agnes and Laird MacLarsen. Her brother-in-law was indeed smitten with her sister, and they were living a happy life, though there had been some strife.
Rising from her seat, Emma strode to her aunt’s desk and sat down. She had never responded to Agnes’s letter, and it was high time that she did. Her sister had been desperate to hear from her, and even though Agnes had chided her for apologizing, Emma found herself writing another apology.
From what I’ve heard, you are happy, and I hope that is true—especially after what I did. I see now how foolish and reckless I was, how selfish. And I am sorry.
Emma bit the end of her quill and picked up another piece of paper.
This she addressed to Laird Ronson, and at first, she merely offered greetings and happy felicitations. He had to be married to Helena by now, no? She had not heard from her friend again.
Before she knew it, Emma had poured her heart out, page after page, about Banrose and their time together. Her tears fell, and as she finished, she knew that she should burn it. But instead, she tied it with a ribbon and tucked it in her pocket. She would hold on to it, as a memory of her time with Grant.
I can at least have that, can I not?
Rising, Emma sealed her sister’s letter and hurried out of the room, seeking a maid to post the letter. But she found no one and sighed. The staff was a mere skeleton of what it usually was, as her aunt was not in residence.
Finally, she heard the front door swing open, and she hurried forward, finding the same maid from earlier.
