Page 17 of The Highlander's Captured Bride
“Ethan—”
“I ken why I’m here, Faither,” Ethan cut in abruptly. “It's about the Lairdship, I ken…but—” he sighed and pressed his lips tight. “—I’m nay ready for it yet, to take up the mantle Finley left to me.”
“To be fair,” Balgair said wryly, “It's I who is going to hand off the mantle, but I ken ye’re nay ready for it, Ethan, and that’s why I called ye in here. Finley left us abruptly, and his space is never going to be filled. Ye willnae dae what he would have done, and I ken that. But what I want ye to develop is the inkling to begin developing how ye would lead. The Lairdship is going to be handed to ye, one day, whether ye’re ready or nay, but I am going to give ye some time to grow into it.”
Sagging into his chair, Ethan rubbed his face and felt the tension turning his body into a rod of rigid iron begin to slip away. He had expected to come in and find his father forced him into a place he was not ready to inhabit. “How long dae ye ken ye can give me?”
“A year,” his father said. “Between then and now, I’ll give ye the same training I gave Finely, except instead of ten years of preparation, it will be one. Can ye accept that?”
“Aye.” Ethan leaned forward, and his eyes drifted to the window where the pink dawn was transforming into a lovely azure sky. “Aye, I can accept that.” He dragged his gaze away and looked squarely at his father. “Finley was seeking to get married, too, but all the matches for him that we found, he turned them away. Are ye going to need me to get married before I take the Lairdship on?”
Balgair sighed heavily and reached for a quill that he twiddled in his fingers. “I won’t force ye, as our time for ye to be trained will be relatively short, but if ye happen to find love or a woman ye ken is fitting, along the way, I willnae object. Speaking of, thank ye for keeping Miss O’Cain away from the investigation. Her faither told me that she tends to get a bit too immersed in all his cases.”
Ethan held back a snicker. Immersed was right considering what he and Violet had done the day before.
“She is… stitched from another cloth than the one most women are made of,” he added with a straight face. “I like her free spirit and good sense.”
“Aye, I agree,” Balgair nodded. “For such a young tender age, she has a maturity I’ve never seen.”
“And can hold onto her innocence despite all she had seen over the years,” Ethan added, and at the father’s questioning look, explained. “She told me that she’s been through brothels, slums, and met with the worst of the worst. She said she has to keep in mind that what she and her faither are doing is for the benefit of those who need them, and that she cannot allow that darkness and horror she’s been through to turn her away from that path.”
“Seems like ye two have made a bond,” the Laird noted. “That’s good; keep her occupied while her faither and I go about solving Finley’s killing.”
“I ken I’ll take her to the village this evening,” Ethan mused. “I dinnae ken if she’s been in many highland towns before this one. She does live in Inverness, but she told me she’s been through the lowlands and the cities all her life on cases. I ken she’d like to see the cliffs where the waterfalls flow over and perhaps a ride through the field.”
“Ye dae that,” Balgair nodded. “Keep her occupied while we do the dirty work.”
“Last night, we came in very late because I took her too far in the hills. Mister O’Cain was getting very anxious about the hour. If we do come in late again tonight, please assure him that she will be very safe with me,” Ethan requested. “I will never let anything happen to her or cause her to be in danger. If ye would let Mister O’Cain ken that, I hope his mind will be on the issue at hand and nay going between it and overly worrying his daughter.”
“He will be worrying,” was his reply. “But I can dae a little to assuage his fear. Ye are a good fighter and defender, Ethan. I’ve seen ye on the training field. Barring Mister O’Cain seeing ye doing the same, I ken ye will protect Miss O’Cain and I’ll make sure he kens it too.”
Standing, Ethan nodded. “I’ll see ye this evening.”
After passing through a few corridors, he paused in the middle of the stairs to survey the hall below, which was filled with people making quick work of the heaped platters of food that had taken the servants hours to prepare. A frisson of unease went up his spine when he did not see Violet amongst them.
He stopped halfway and scanned the room once more before spinning in place and traipsing to Violet’s room. He wanted to check there before going to see if she was in the kitchens. He arrived at the door and knocked before a quiet “enter” was uttered.
Violet was sitting at the edge of her made bed with a peculiar look on her face. An unruly lock of dark hair was curling near her eyes. He had the strangest desire to sweep it away with his finger but kept his hand at his side.
Quietly closing the door behind him, he asked, “Good mornin’, are ye well? Have ye eaten?”
She nodded but the quietness he felt coming from her was not one he would have expected. “May I sit with ye?” With her nod, he sat beside her. “Is something bothering ye?”
“Aye,” she murmured. “Yer brother’s murder is tugging at me. I cannae say that I’ve ever seen anything like this before. It is particularly troubling to me. And I suspect the talk ye had with yer faither, if ye did have it—” he nodded, “—was about ye taking up the position yer brother left. Forgive me if I’m mistaken but ye…ye dinnae feel ready to take it on, are ye?”
“Yer right,” Ethan muttered, trying to stop himself from letting disbelief run through him. He should have at least expected that Violet’s sharp intuition would have picked up on that. “I’m nay because I always expected that I’d be me brother’s right hand, his second-in-command, nay the one who would be…” he sucked in a breath while images of his brother sprung up before his eyes, “…at the front and center.”
Violet slid her hand into his and her grip was tight. Grief was threatening to drown him, but Violet’s touch was like an anchor. He held onto her hand tightly while wrestling his emotions back into place.
“Ye can cry,” she whispered. “I won’t tell.”
He nearly let the collecting tears tip over the dam that rested behind his eyes. Clenching his eyes tightly, he sucked in some deep breaths and held unto her hand. When the burn in his chest began to subside, he felt a soft nest of curls rested under his chin. He turned his nose into Violet’s hair and breathed in rose oil. His arms closed around her slim shoulders and pressed her to his chest.
Not able to speak for a moment, Ethan held unto her as an anchor. Her soft, caring comfort was eclipsing his deep grief and he felt—absurdly— that there was more than comfort to her touch. When he wrestled back into logic, he forced himself to believe that she was just comforting him about his brother’s death and there was nothing more to it.
Soon, she and her father would find the man who killed his brother and then they would leave. He would never see her again. They did live separate lives, after all. Soon after, he would be the Laird and be married to a woman from a neighboring clan. Violet would be off with her father and then down the line, she would be with a man of her choosing.
Clutching her close, he swallowed over his pain. “Thank ye, Violet.”
