Page 64 of An English Rose for the Highlander
Pulling back, Rose held Fiona’s cheeks in her hands. “And I love you like a sister. My dearest friend in ScotlandandEngland. I will write to you often. I will tell you of all the latest gossip in theton.”
Fiona sniffled, a tiny smile crawling to the surface as a mournful laugh left her.
“I’ll say I am nae as much interested in it now. But I would have ye write me of yerself. I will know that me friend is well.”
Tears. So many shed between them, and Rose’s chest felt as if it would crack in two, letting her bleed out onto the floor. After alength of time Rose couldn’t guess, she pulled back from Fiona’s arms, sniffling as her friend did.
“I wish to say my farewells to Eilidh as well. I…I will see ye at dinner. We will make it a lovely meal to remember.”
Fiona’s eyes flared. “You’d have supper in the hall once more? Are ye sure?”
Rose considered what her dear friend was saying. The young healer knew that Rose did not genuinely wish to go. It was likely written all over her face. And in truth, the Lady of the Castle had been wondering how she would be able to bring herself to have a meal with the man she was leaving, the one who held her heart but would not give her his.
“Yes. It is only right to take my leave with respect and civil custom.”
You will not be his, not a day more after this one. But perhaps you can at least cling to the memory of this night.
“Very well, me Lady. Make yer way to Eilidh. I’m sure she’ll have a word or two for you about all this.”
Chuckling, Rose nodded, giving Fiona one last embrace before turning and leaving the healing chambers to make her way to the kitchen.
The room smelled like sage and rosemary, the potent scent of fresh meat behind it. Dinner was well into being prepared, and the kitchen was bustling with activity. Eilidh stood at the long wooden table in the center of the rear portion. She had her face down, concentrating on the slicing of several long carrots and a handful of potatoes.
As she walked up, Rose was absently aware of the tension in her chest, that pinch that had been with her since her decision, not letting up for even a single second. Normally, the fragrance of supper cooking would have her stomach growling, a hastily acquired love of everything Eilidh cooked.
But it didn’t. No part of Rose did more than simply exist.
“Good morning, Eilidh.” The woman looked up, jerking as a bit of surprise took her. “If you have a moment?—”
“Lass! Ye nearly had me knife slipping into me own hand. Be careful when ye might startle a person with a blade in their hand!”
“My apologies, Eilidh. I only wished to speak with you about something.”
The background humor of Eilidh’s expression—something that was always there if you knew to look for it—dropped. The womanstared at Rose intently, cocking her head as her brow dipped low over her eyes.
“Ye daenae bring happy news, I think.” Eilidh’s voice was low, and she circled the table, coming to stand in front of Rose.
“No.” Rose forced herself to swallow. “I fear not. I…I will be taking my leave, returning with my parents to England. The Crown will soon pass judgment over the death of the Viscount, and…I would be of most service were I in London when that verdict is delivered.”
Silence between them in the hustle and bustle of the kitchen, servants crisscrossing this way and that as food was hauled about the room. For minutes, Eilidh took in everything Rose could not say out loud, reading her expression and the silent confession that was etched into her face.
Rose did not want to go, but she would protect Dominik as best she could from the Crown’s wrath. Even…even if he did not love her.
A small smile stretched over Eilidh’s face, and she held out an arm, ushering Rose into her embrace.
“Och, lass.” As Rose dropped her head to Eilidh’s shoulder, the woman patted her cheek. “I see. I see. A…a fine dinner will be prepared. A proper send-off.”
She pulled Rose’s face up to hers, her palms flat against either cheek now.
“For the Lady of the Castle.”
A sob tore free of Rose, ragged and quick. Eilidh did see. She understood. And that somehow made the pain of it that much worse. After months of working to gain the woman’s respect, it appeared that Rose had indeed done just that, along with her friendship.
“I thank you, Eilidh. I will bring everything you taught me with me to England.”
“I have nae doubt, lass.”
A commotion at the door behind her drew Rose’s attention away from Eilidh and to the two loud figures coming into the kitchen. Peggy and Oskar strode in, her maid hot on the heels of the man-at-arms, who headed directly toward Rose with his brows up.
