Page 77 of Trapped with the Vicious Highlander
Silence. This time thicker and longer.
Brodrick glared at her, as if what she’d just said was the strangest thing in the world. As if she’d just revealed that she murdered someone in her youth.
“When do ye plan to leave?” Flora asked when the silence grew too suffocating.
Ava could tell from her reluctant tone that she wasn’t keen on hearing the answer. Flora only asked the question to break the silence.
“At first light,” Ava responded, her voice steady.
Flora nodded. “I see. I suppose I shall prepare some… food for ye so ye can eat it on the way.”
“Flora—” Ava said gently.
“Maybe some new gloves. Laird McClain was talking the other day about how intense the winds these days can be. Maybe I will even ask Irene to give ye some medicine, in case ye suffer from?—”
“Flora, please!” Ava called, halting the woman’s rambling.
Everyone held their breaths.
Ava studied the faces of the people around the table. Except for tightening his jaw once or twice, Brodrick looked just like usual—stoic, unfazed, and severe. Flora looked like might get sick if she spent one more minute at the table. Margaret had the same look on Brodrick’s face, except she was on the verge of tears.
Ava didn’t know what was worse, seeing the little girl cry or knowing she was the cause.
“Nay. Nay. I cannae do this,” Flora suddenly snapped, rising to her feet.
“Flora—” Ava tried to reach for her, but Flora dodged her hand narrowly.
“I need to go do something—prepare something. Food, something for ye to drink. I just… I just cannae stay here any longer.”
She threw her napkin on the table and stepped away, heading straight out of the dining hall, not looking back even once.
Margaret also rose from her seat, the tears now brimming in her eyes ready to spill over at any second. Ava tried to call for her, but just like Flora, Margaret gave her a silent stare and escaped the dining hall, leaving her venison almost untouched.
Spectacular. As if she did not already feel dreadful.
Ava didn’t think she could take it if Brodrick also walked out on her, so she decided to do it first.
Before he could stop her, she placed her napkin on the table and turned around. She had to start packing anyway, even though it was only breakfast.
She couldn’t breathe until she got to her room and let out a giant exhale. This was hard. Harder than she had thought it would be. She had severely underestimated the effect a place like this would have on her in such a short time.
She hated the fact that she was getting sentimental. This was not the plan. This hadneverbeen the plan. And it greatly irked her that she had to internally berate herself to stick to the plan in the first place.
She walked to the corner of her bed, her eyes flicking to the window for just a few seconds. She could see some of Brodrick’s men, including some of the remaining lairds who had come for the cèilidh, training in the courtyard.
She grabbed her box of clothes from underneath her bed and placed it on the mattress. As she lifted the lid, her door slammed open, and Brodrick walked in, his boots clicking louder than usual on the floor. Ava didn’t need to study his face for long to see it.
He was greatly upset.
“And what the devil do ye think ye’re doin’, lass?” he asked, looking straight at her. Almost like he was daring her to speak.
“This had to come one way or another, Brodrick. I believe it is far better for us—for everyone this way. No one has to get hurt.”
“Is that what ye’re so afraid of? Someone gettin’ hurt in the process?”
Ava dropped the lid of the box on the mattress and stepped closer to him. “What is this process you speak of? All we’ve had are stolen moments either under the moonlight or in your study. Is that what you call ‘the process?’”
“Well, we might be able to figure it out if ye’re nae intent on leavin’ in such haste.”
