Page 35 of The Highlander's Captured Bride
Mister O’Cain took a seat, and his gaze was absurdly calm. Ethan felt his frustration switching targets from the dead woman to the investigator. How was it possible to be calm in such calamity? There was no visible way for them to solve Finley’s murder now.
“Aye,” Mister O’Cain said, “That can be one reason, but another is that the real perpetrator made sure to silence her. She was the only open lead we had, and her death makes it even clearer that Master MacFerson’s death was more complex than we had expected.”
“Like what?” Ethan asked.
His father shook his head. “Son, I ken ye are very distraught about all this, but I ken this is a discussion Mister O’Cain and I should have alone. Please, go to bed and try to rest.”
Ethan’s jaw nearly dropped in shock. Rest? How could he rest? Nothing was right, everything felt upturned, dark, dreary and hopeless and with the anger, grief, and frustration in his chest, he felt like he was a powder keg just waiting for the right spark to explode. He clenched his jaw and ground his teeth so hard, it was a miracle he was not swallowing dust.
“Fine,” he said stiffly. “I’ll leave ye be.”
He strode out his steps quicken to a run. He felt boxed up, constricted and knotted-up tightly. He got to his room but felt himself pacing. He felt unease fuel his feet, but this room was too small for him to get this frenzy out from him.
Spinning, he yanked his door open and nearly collided with Violet. “Violet? What are ye doing here?”
“I cannae—” she let out a breath, “—rest or even internalize this blow. I kent ye might feel the same.”
Sagging on the doorframe, he sighed, “I cannae either.”
“Can we…” she hesitated, “…work it out together?”
“Where?” he asked. “Now that the woman, the one person who could help us find me brother’s killer is dead, I feel like I’m getting suffocated inside this place. We have nay clues or anything to lead us in the right direction and yer faither says—”
“—That there might be more ways to solve this mystery,” she said. “Well, nae in me words but…?”
“Aye,” he said, “in his words.”
“It's late,” she mused with a wry tilt to her lips. “What can we dae?”
“I daenae ken about ye but I was heading to the stables to saddle me horse and race until all this frenzy inside me is gone,” Ethan said. “It’s nearly midnight but…”
“And it’s a moonless night, it might be dangerous,” she came closer. “What if we just keep each other’s company until dawn, and then ye can go to the stables?”
Her suggestion was tempting, but he could not just stay still. He had to move. Shaking his head, he grimaced, “I cannae dae that, Violet. Please understand. Ye can meet me at the stables at dawn when I’m done. I feel…like I’m about to implode. Riding at such a night might be dangerous, but if I keep to myself like this, I might be worse.”
She stepped away with an understanding look on her face. “I appreciate yer honesty. Go ahead, I’ll find ye at dawn.”
Embracing her, he took a moment to absorb her comfort and softness but then pried away and hurried off. He ran to the stables and managed to feel his way through getting his horse saddled and out to the fields behind it.
His eyes had adjusted to the darkness and the little light from the stars was enough for him to see the way he wanted to ride. Sucking in a deep breath, he spurred the horse into a run, then increased the pace to a full-fledged run. The leap of his heart and the burn of his blood was a welcomed distraction from the acidic mix of fear, frustration, grief, and anger boiling inside him.
The horse canted to a stop, but it was not enough. He spun and went the same way, even faster this time. The icy slap of the breeze on his face slid through his shirt and began to chill his body. The powerful stride of the horse under him and the pounding of his heart began to overpower the emotions inside him, and he began to crave the numbness.
At the end of the run, he paused to suck some air into his burning lungs and after a breath, began once more. He did not know how many tries it would take to get him to a state of full numbness, but he was going to try.
* * *
The gray, ghostly light that came before dawn sifting through the slats in the stables matched his dour mood. He was sitting on the ground, peering blankly at the horse who had valiantly held up through his hours of sprinting.
He did not look up when the door was pushed in, but he knew it was Violet. He kept his eyes down on the floor and his arms braced on his knees. The numbness that he had chased all through the night was slowly petering away from his chest, and the mix of emotions that he had tried to run from was slowly returning.
She sat near him and the soft scent of jasmine oil tickled his nose. Violet did not say a word to him and for that he was thankful. They sat in solemn stillness until she broke the silence. “I brought ye food. Ye must be hungry after all that time.”
Ethan spotted the bag and felt his lips twitch. He reached out for the bag and set it aside without a word. Twisting, he looked at her and tried to understand the calmness he saw resting in her eyes. Her expression was placid, compassionate, and dare he say…loving?
He wanted to ask, but the words would not come out. Instead, he reached over, cupped her face, and kissed her. No thought had gone into it, it had come from a deep need inside him. She felt like safe berth in the storm surrounding him.
Meeting her lips, he felt a craving to taste her that had laid dormant inside him from the first kiss flare up. Their mouths fused, and when she shyly licked his tongue, he felt a need bubble inside him. Changing the angle, he kissed her deeply, tenderly, and she responded. She slid her hand through his hair and a faint whimper escaped her throat.
