Page 67 of The Highlander Steals a Virgin
The keep loomed behind her now, distant but steady. With each step away from it, the world seemed to widen. The grass was slick beneath her boots, dotted with wild heather and bursts of gorse, and the wind tugged playfully at her shawl.
A wooden gate stood open at the end of the track, revealing a narrow trail pressed into the hill beyond.
She hesitated.
Is this the boundary of the perimeter? Should I go… or…Amara looked back toward the keep, only the upper arrow windows could be seen now.
Then she faced the gate, pausing for only a few more moments.
And then she ducked through it.
The trail wove through a small thicket of pine, branches whispering above her, needles scattered across the soil like confetti from a forgotten celebration.
When she emerged again, blinking against the sun, her breath caught in her throat.
There, just beyond a low rise, the land dropped off into a staggering cliff face. Below, not the sea, but a massive loch shimmered. It was a deep and dark and endless blue, and carved between towering bluffs like a secret basin only the O’Donnells knew of.
The wind whooshed upward from the water, carrying the scent of stone and rain and something almost metallic.
It was wild. Untamed. Unapologetically beautiful.
And it made her feel freer than she had in years.
She stood there for a long moment, arms folded across her chest, eyes sweeping the vast horizon. For the first time since her mother’s death, she felt the absence of eyes on her. The absence of judgment. The absence of expectation.
It was just her breath and the breeze and silence.
I could stay…
I should stay.
I want to stay.
The breeze whipped around her as she neared the edge of the cliffside, and she let her hair tumble around her. Blind her.
A bell rang in the distance or perhaps she was mistaken.
It rang again, faint at first, then stronger as the wind shifted.
The supper bell.
Amara exhaled and turned back toward the keep, heart lighter than it had been in days.
By the time she arrived back at the keep, her cheeks were pink from wind and her hair smelled faintly of horses and heather.
She hadn’t meant to stay out so long, and as she crossed the threshold of the grand front entrance, something about the keep’s weathered stone and thrum of life tucked into each corner felt strangely hers. Like a memory she hadn’t lived yet.
Nina found her just inside the main corridor, breathless and fussing with a clean ribbon.
“Come, come, ye’re late. The laird will be down soon, and ye’ll nae be lettin’ him sit waitin’, with an empty seat beside him.”
Amara allowed herself to be whisked upstairs and into a fresh dress and let Nina fuss over her hair without protest.
She wanted to look nice.
She wanted him to see her andfeelsomething.
By the time she reached the private dining hall, her heart was thudding.
