Page 42 of The Highlander's Captured Bride
Her face was shining a rosy red from the backwash of light coming from the tavern’s door. “Nay, ye dinnae, I feared ye were regretting it because we had received some rather troubling news earlier. Sometimes, people act out in different ways during distress, I wasnae sure if ye wanted a distraction or…” she swallowed. “If ye meant it.”
“I meant it.” Ethan made sure to catch her eye to press his point, “I meant all of it.”
Nae to mention that I loved how ye reacted.
If possible, her blush deepened more, and he got a glimpse of her bashful side. It endeared her to him even more, as did the realization that he would have to go slow with her slithered through his mind. She had to be eased into acts of intimacy, not thrown in.
“All in all, I dae ken we should get home,” he said, moving to take the boy from her. “I’ll ride with him. Can ye get on the horse by yerself?”
“I’ll manage.”
The ride home was quiet and uneventful with a cool summer wind blowing in from the loch and the light from the bright stars and crescent moon above shimmering over them. Effortlessly, he helped the now-awake boy down from the horse and took him into the castle. A maid was called on and she took the boy to a room.
Poor boy, nay family and now he’s thrown into this tangled puzzle.
Before he went to father and relayed his finding, she followed Violet to her room and hesitated at the door. “May I come in?”
Nodding, she went in and held it open for him. He did a quick look around the room, noting that it was usual for visitors: standard bed, a chair, a table with a washbasin and a large window look out the backlands. Turning he saw her apprehensive look and smiled, just to ease her worry.
Coming closer, he laid his hand on her shoulder and said, “I may nae ken exactly where this is headed but I will never play with yer heart. I am enthralled by ye, Violet. Ye’re lovely, wise and brave…” his hands slid to frame her neck and his thumbs rested on her face.
Her lips were warm and soft, parting eagerly for him but he kept his kiss soft and tender, suckling on her lips rather than meeting her tongue with his. Pulling away, he smiled. “Never doubt yerself, Violet.”
Her smile was tremulous at first but grew wider, “If ye promise me to be the same.”
Ethan knew what she was referring to, him finding his brother’s killer and him taking over the lairdship in time. He felt it was a fair bargain. “Ye have me word. I’ll send up yer dinner. Good night, Violet.”
With her wishing him the same, he slipped out of the room and down the corridor, trying to put the words together on how to tell his father about the possible undermining from Clan Hofte, and the probability of them having a spy in the castle. He managed to find a servant and instruct her to send up some food to Violet’s room before hurrying to meet his father.
He found the door to his father’s meeting room was cocked half open and with a quick knock went in. A swift look from his father had the Laird’s already tense face going tighter. “Ye dinnae find him.”
“Nay,” he said. “But I have more distressing news. The barkeep at the tavern told me that I’m describing a man from Clan Hofte, as they mostly have tall and slender men. And if this is the case, if the Laird is trying to start some trouble and undermine us, he might have paid off a servant to slip that note into yer rooms.”
His father stared at him. Ethan’s lips pressed tight as he waited for his father’s reply. Instead of the loud, ear-splitting shout he had expected, his father just shook his head and slumped into the seat and rubbed his creased forehead. “Bloody hell.”
“Before we go accusing them though,” Ethan cautioned. “This is worth some looking into. We have peace with them now and I wouldnae like to break it over a suspicion, and a rather weak one at that.”
Nodding, his father said, “Spoken like a true peacekeeper. I’ll approach this with caution.”
“That would be the best,” Ethan breathed. “I wouldnae want to undo all Finley’s good work and all he sacrificed for.”
“Ye willnae,” his father assured him before eyeing him. “Was Miss O’Cain any help today?”
“Very much,” he said. “She kept the boy calm throughout the whole day.” His father’s eyebrows were near his hairline, a clear prod for Ethan to keep going but he had nothing more to offer. He kept silent and eventually earned a low chuckle from his sire.
“So ye expect me to pretend that through all the days ye’ve been riding out, the trip to the loch and how Callum found ye at the stables that morn, that there is nothing more to yer friendship than, well, friendship?” Dark green eyes glimmered. “I was yer age once, son, remember that.”
Backed into a corner, he refrained from cursing in front of his father. “All right…” he raked his hand through his hair, hoping he would not get upbraided for his actions. “We’ve kissed.”
“Once….twice…?”
“Faither, please!” Ethan grumbled. “This is nay the sort of thing I would ever feel comfortable talking to ye about. I’d rather go to Fin—” his mouth clicked shut so quickly he nearly bit his tongue.
The playful air they had between them had vanished like smoke and the harsh reality that his brother—the one he would go to in matters like this—was forever gone, had a lead ball of emotion sinking in his stomach. His face twisted to the window as he swallowed over the hard lump in his throat.
His unwitting words had dropped another brick on top of the load he and his father were already carrying. When the stillness grew stifling, he turned back and shook his head. “Pardon me, that was unwise.”
“Aye,” was his reply. “But one day we’re going to have to accept that he is gone.”
