Page 51 of Trapped with the Vicious Highlander
“I just assumed ye were both…”
“Both what?”
“It is just that from the way ye both look at each other and the way ye defended her at breakfast yesterday, when she said she didnae eat sweets because of?—”
Brodrick glared at her, his eyes spitting all kinds of venom all of a sudden.
“Apologies, M’Laird. I shall nae bring it up again.”
“That would be great,” he bit out.
He reached for Margaret, and soon they both made their way out of the apothecary and were back in the corridor.
“Do ye want to go up the stairs now?” he asked, the implication of Irene’s words hanging over his head like a heavy cloud.
* * *
Ava stepped out of the bath and walked into her room. Her eyes gleamed in anticipation as she reached for one of her dresses. As she slowly put it on, her eyes landed on her mirror. She couldn’t help but wonder if Flora had been right about her needing a dressmaker anyway. What would happen when she ran out of clothes to wear? Would people take notice? Clothes were meant to be worn more than once, weren’t they? So why was she worried about them?
She fixed her hair, still staring at the mirror as she worked. Her eyes flicked to the unfinished letter resting on her table. The one she had promised herself to finish sometime this week and then send to Sarah and Elizabeth. She wondered what they were doing and how things were going at the orphanage.
But soon, the thought drifted back to the recesses of her mind. She finished lacing her dress, and as she adjusted her corset, she couldn’t help but wonder how Margaret was faring.
She smoothed her hair one final time and then headed out, going straight to the courtyard and hoping to find father and daughter still playing around.
She stepped outside, her feet barely touching the grass, the doorknob still clutched in her hand. There was no sign of Brodrick or Margaret. Where had they gone? Did he take her someplace else? Maybe horse riding?
Before she could let herself go down a deep rabbit hole, she heard a distinct voice from inside the castle. Slowly, she followed it, her ears perked up. She tried her best to remain as quiet as possible as she moved. As the voice grew clearer, she finally recognized it.
Brodrick’s voice.
She stopped in a corridor, listening attentively to what he was saying. He seemed to be explaining the history of something to Margaret, but she didn’t know what it was. If only she could move a little closer without being seen.
Her eyes scanned the corridor, and she found a hiding spot closer to where Brodrick stood. It was a passage corner right by the walls, bug enough to keep her hidden and close enough that she could hear the conversation between them, even if it would not be incredibly audible. Slowly, she hiked up her skirts and tiptoed to the hiding spot. The closer she got, the clearer Brodrick’s voice became.
“… yer grandfaither. He was quite the warrior in his days. He loved to fight and to hunt as well. Ye name the animal and there is a big chance he had either seen it or caught it.”
Ava listened with rapt attention. She could sense his pride when he talked about his father.
“…yer maither was quite the brave woman too. She was fierce and stood her ground. And I greatly respected her for it, if anything. I am certain some of that will rub off quite well on ye. Ye have been through a lot, me child, and for some reason, ye have managed to come out on top. That is bravery if I’ve ever seen anything like it.”
Ava smiled. Margaret must be quite proud that she came from a long line of brave men and women. She wished she could say the same about her father, but that thought was for another day. Now, all she could do was continue to listen attentively.
“Here she is. Yer maither.”
At that moment, it dawned on Ava what Brodrick was showing Margaret. She looked up to see portraits of men and women she had never met before lining the walls just a little beyond her hiding spot. This was the gallery.
Ava studied the portraits carefully. There was nothing she could identify properly. She had read up carefully on the Highlands before meeting Brodrick, but she still knew just as much as she did when her mother was alive—little to nothing.
She continued to listen as he explained some Scottish lore to Margaret. She leaned forward, intending to see what portrait Brodrick was pointing to now, but her leg slipped on the stone. She let out a yelp as she tried to stop herself from falling flat on the ground.
Brodrick’s head snapped up. “Who is there?”
Ava swallowed. Maybe if she remained in her hiding spot long enough, he would ignore the noise and make his way out of the corridor with Margaret. She just needed to remain quiet and as still as a mouse standing near a cat.
“I said, who is there? Show yerself,” Brodrick called again.
Ava remained still. She contemplated turning around and running back to her room. Her eyes searched the opposite end of the corridor. If she made a run for it now, would she be able to make it?
