Page 7 of The Highlander's Captured Bride
“Mayhap…we’ll postpone that discussion,” Ethan hedged. “I ken its nae fair as I was the one who asked ye. Those are, well… a bit difficult for me to speak on now.”
“We can speak about yer brother,” Violet proposed. “If it’s nay too troubling.”
He sat back on the bench and clenched his eyes clenched tightly. “Finley was a smart man. A few years ago, a neighboring clan was at war with us, and he decided to be the bearer of peace. He went to the clan, unarmed, and met with the Laird there. He suggested that instead of fighting with each other, we should learn from each other. So, he proposed that we exchange a squadron of thirty of our soldiers with one of theirs, and to foster more camaraderie, hold tournaments every year before harvest. It worked, and to this day, Clan Hofte is our best ally.”
She could hear the pain in his voice, but he uttered a soft, humorless chuckle. “He always won the archery section. The man could kill a bird between its eyes from a hundred feet away, but was hopeless in jousting. He made sure to take care of others before himself… he was even slated to get married before me faither stepped down and handed him the lairdship. Now, I’m slated to take the lairdship up and I wonder…I wonder if I can follow in his footsteps.”
Hesitantly, Violet rested her hand on his shoulder. “I’m sure ye’ll do fine. Ye have yer faither and the memory of yer brother to rely on.”
“I dae,” he acknowledged, “but I just wish I had paid more attention to them when they were working. I was happy to be me brother’s support when he took on the post, but for me to jump into that role… distresses me. What distresses me, even more, is that we might nae find the man who killed me brother or the woman who lured him off.”
“What dae ye ken happened with her?” Violet asked.
“I cannae say, but her sudden disappearance tells me that a conspiracy was afoot.” Ethan’s words were tight and sounded as if they were forced through his teeth. “She took him out to someone who killed him.”
The shadows were deepening and the night was getting colder, but Violet did not want to part ways with Ethan. She felt deeply touched by his ability to love and his admission of care, and she felt drawn to him. It was late and she should find her room, but she wanted to linger.
“I agree,” she replied, trying—and failing—to not let a shiver from a cold breeze show.
Sadly, Ethan noticed and stood. “Let's get ye inside, it is getting cold out here.”
Reluctantly, she joined him as he offered his arm and she took it. They walked back to the castle and, once inside, Ethan took her upstairs to the line of rooms left empty for guests. “How do ye ken which one it is?”
“Faither would give ye and Mister O’Cain the last rooms at the end, with doors facing each other,” Ethan nodded to the end of the hall. “Those over there.”
She grasped the door’s latch and pushed it in to see her sack resting on a tiny bed. “Yer right, these are me rooms. I’ll…” She spun to see him lingering at the doorway, a small tic in his jaw. “Ethan? What’s wrong?”
His hand lifted toward her face and his fingertips rested on her cheek. She blinked at him, cheeks flushed and eyes flushed of expectation. If he did kiss her—and she wanted him to—he would be the first one to claim that title. Having him so close and so warm, were so very distracting and affecting her ability to think. She heard her heartbeat in her ears. “Ethan?”
Dropping his hand, his smile was deeply apologetic. “Good night, Violet, sleep well.”
Lingering at the doorway, she made to speak but no words came from her. She watched, dumbly, as he went to the end of the corridor and disappeared around it without a look back.
Her fingertips danced over where he had touched, and her heart sank within her.Serves me right to ken he would be attracted to me. How much of a fool am I? He’ll never see me the way I want him to…
“Good night…Ethan,” she whispered to the thin air.
4
Resolutely ignoring the urge to sink into guilt the moment he left the hallway from Violet's room, Ethan made it to his room before it hit him in his face like a cannonball.
This nay the time nor the place to have… these feelings. Finley just died.
Rubbing his face in tired frustration, he tugged his shirt off and sank to the edge of his bed, caging his face in his hands. His chest felt tight, as if he was bound with rawhide rope. While he grappled with this unexpected yearning, he doubted Violet was affected by their encounter.
She had looked at him with pure innocent confusion when he had touched her face. How would she have reacted if he had kissed her? Less than a day knowing her, he was nearly possessed by the strong, primal urge to kiss her, stronger than he had felt in years. Violet was a contradiction— a puzzle he wanted to solve.
She had seen the worst of the worst, but still held onto such innocence. She was so young but had the wisdom of a sage. She was brightness in such a dark world and that drew him in. But he could not, in good conscience, take advantage of her. It did not make any sense to form a connection with her, as in a few days she might be gone anyway.
Though he wanted to think about Violet, there were so many more important things to consider. He had to find who had killed his brother, who had given him the sleeping draught, and who was the woman that lured Finley out from the oversight of his fellow soldiers. Those were the most critical things that he should be focused on. Ethan slid his hand behind his neck and began to rub the tension those thoughts brought away.
At daylight, I wish I could join the soldiers in searching for that tavern lass again.
Tomorrow was going to be his brother’s burial, and he needed all his strength for that. If his mother opted to be a part of it, he was the one who would stick to her side through it all.
He knew his father would not have the patience or the heart to allow his son to go through the traditional wake period, and for his mother to wash her son's body was out of the question. If Lady Annabelle went within ten feet of her son’s body, they would have two funerals on their hands.
His sleep was frail, and he woke before dawn. Unable to sleep further, he washed, dressed quickly, and slipped out of the room to find the place where his brother’s body was laid out. The room was dim but not so dark that he could not see the body of Finley rested on a wooden table.
