Page 63 of An English Rose for the Highlander
“Thank you for your hospitality, my laird.” A pause, and then in a voice tinged with emotion, she said, “A h-uile là sona dhuibh ‘s gun là idir dona dhuibh.”
The door shut behind Rose, leaving Dominik in the silence of his room alone. Her words echoed in his head, the Gaelic saying he’d heard a thousand times if he had heard it once.
May all yer days be happy ones. She learned it…for me.
Dominik stumbled backward, slumping down onto the surface of his bed with a hollow exhale. He’d been scooped out, emptied of everything vital inside him as if he were simply a bit of meat to be cooked over the fire and served at dinner.
It took him several long moments before he could stand up from the bed, and when he did, Dominik merely went to his door and called out to the servant nearest at the time.
“Whisky.” The younger man’s brows rose as the Laird spoke to him so sharply. “I need at least a bottle. Two would be better.”
“A-Aye, me laird. Of course.”
The servant hurried away, and he shut himself back up in his chambers until his drink was delivered. Dominik had a singular plan for the evening, despite there being a supper later and a request to meet with the council. He would not attend either event. He would sit in this blasted room and drink until the painstopped, until his thoughts were so far away from the reality of today that he could sleep and forget.
Because he could not stand to be in his head in this room—alone—for another second.
Dominik had barely begun drinking when a knock sounded, and he glared at the door without leaving his bed.
“What?”
“Dominik, what’s gotten into ye?” It was Oskar, and nothing in the world would convince the Laird to get up and unlock the door for him. “A servant has said that ye requested two bottles of whisky.”
“Aye! And it matters nae to ye in the slightest.” Dominik took a large swig of the alcohol, his throat burning as he swallowed. “So be off with ye!”
“Dammit, Dominik. Ye cannae stay in yer room and drink yerself silly. Please open up and talk to me.”
The Laird ignored his man-at-arms, drinking long and hard on the first bottle of whisky until his head spun. He could drink himself silly if he did it fast enough, and because he was the Laird of this darned keep, he would. Because he could do nothing more. This was all that was left of him.
31
She had told the Laird that she would be leaving. Now, Rose needed to do the same with the other people in his castle that she had come to befriend. Fiona, even Eilidh—they all needed to know that very soon a carriage would take her and her parents back to England, and that it was very likely she would never see them again.
Very likely that her husband would no longer be her husband.
There was no part of her that delighted in that notion. Rose was truly and thoroughly heartbroken. All the more so for Dominik’s words that she could do whatever she wished. It was so cold, so flippant. Had he indeed never cared for her? After all they had been through together?
It should not matter, she thought to herself. They were parting, and if she was sparing the man she loved a similar heartbreak by not being the object of his affections, all the better. Rose was making the right decision. She was certain of it. But it didnot dull the ache that dogged her chest every moment she was awake.
Going first to the healing chambers, Rose sought out Fiona. She would be the hardest to talk to, so Rose wished to get it over with before she lost her nerve. At the back of the room, Fiona stood mixing herbs in a mortar and pestle as she often did.
“Fiona,” the sound of Rose’s voice cut through the air, pulling the woman around to face her, “I wish to speak with you.”
“Och, of course, me Lady. How can I be of assistance?”
Rose felt moments from sobbing like a child. Fiona was a phenomenal friend, and the knowledge that she would never see the young healer’s apprentice again filled Rose with nothing but sorrow and loneliness.
“There is nothing more to do for me, Fiona. I…I am leaving the keep. I will be returning to England with my family. There…there is much tension surrounding the Crown’s ruling on the killing, and I will be there to hear it.”
“I…I daenae understand. Ye’re leaving?” She shook her head, tears springing to the surface. “Nay! Ye cannae leave! I need ye here!”
Before Rose could speak words of comfort, Fiona launched herself toward her, wrapping Rose in an embrace that wouldnot relent for anything. She squeezed herself against the lady, shaking her head furiously.
Her dear friend was inconsolable.
“Please, Fiona,” Rose sniffled, doing what she could to keep her own tears from spilling over, “you cannot cry. I enjoyed every minute of our time together, I can assure you of that. I wouldn’t leave if I didn’t think it was best for the clan, for its Laird. This is simply the best thing I can do to ensure that Clan MacKay is not threatened because of Lord Egerton’s death.”
“Nay, this cannae be the truth. I willnae let ye leave.” She held on tightly, sobbing into Rose’s shoulder. “I love ye, Rose. Like ye were me sister. Ye are the only true friend I have here.”
