Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The garden behind the southern wall of the castle was quiet in the evening light.
The day had been warm, and the last traces of sunlight now lingered softly over the stone paths and low beds of herbs.
Bees drifted lazily from blossom to blossom, and the air carried the gentle scent of rosemary, thyme, and damp soil.
Elaina was kneeling beside one of the narrow beds, her fingers carefully loosening the earth around a young cluster of sage.
It was work she did not truly need to do.
The garden had already been tended earlier that afternoon.
But her hands needed something to occupy them, because her thoughts had grown far too restless.
She brushed the soil aside with slow, deliberate movements, forcing herself to focus on the simple rhythm of the task.
Dig. Turn. Smooth the soil again.
Normally such quiet work soothed her. Today it did not.
Her mind kept returning to the morning ride into the woods and to the moment Duncan had lifted her as though she weighed nothing at all.
Her fingers stilled briefly in the soil.
The memory returned with uncomfortable clarity.
She could still feel the sudden rush of air as the ground disappeared beneath her feet and then, the warmth of his hands at her waist. Her heart had felt as if it were about to jump right out of her chest and into the palms of his hands.
Elaina exhaled slowly. This was not wise. She brushed her hands together and shifted to the next row of herbs, though she barely saw them.
The problem was not merely that Duncan was handsome, for that alone would have been manageable. It was the rest of him. Duncan Grant was stern, but he was also unexpectedly thoughtful, patient and far more complicated than she had prepared herself for.
Her fingers moved absently through the lavender stems she had been trimming, releasing their familiar scent into the evening air. The sky above the garden had deepened into soft shades of blue and violet, and the first lamps in the castle windows had begun to glow faintly.
She tried to steady her thoughts but the quiet of the garden only seemed to make everything clearer.
She was growing closer to him… too close.
The thought came unbidden and unsettling in its simplicity: tell him. Not the careful half-truths or the identity she wore like a borrowed cloak, but everything. Who she was, where she had come from and why she had truly crossed his path.
At that exact moment, the soft crunch of footsteps on the gravel path broke her thoughts.
Elaina looked up. Duncan was standing at the edge of the garden, the fading light casting long shadows across the stone wall behind him.
For a moment he said nothing, as though uncertain whether he had interrupted her.
Which, she thought faintly, was not at all the behavior she would have expected from the laird of this castle.
She rose slowly to her feet, brushing the soil from her hands.
“Me laird.”
He stepped a little closer along the path, his gaze briefly drifting over the small collection of herbs she had gathered beside her.
“I didnae mean tae disturb ye.”
“Ye didnae.”
A short silence settled between them. Duncan rubbed a hand lightly across the back of his neck, which was a gesture she had begun to recognize as a sign that something weighed on his mind.
“I came tae speak with ye,” he divulged.
Elaina waited.
“I believe I owe ye an apology fer this morning,” he began.
She lifted a hand gently.
“Please, there is nay need.”
The words surprised him enough that he stopped at once. Elaina met his gaze steadily.
“Ye dinnae owe me an apology.”
Duncan frowned faintly. “I spoke more freely than I intended.”
“Aye,” she said softly.
“And I—”
She shook her head again. “It must have been painful.”
Duncan fell silent.
“The memory of yer maither,” Elaina continued gently. “Speaking of someone ye loved so much… that is never easy.”
The garden had grown very still around them. For a moment Duncan simply looked at her, as though weighing her words carefully.
“I didnae mean tae burden ye with it,” he offered instead of an apology.
“Ye did nae.” Her voice remained calm and reassuring. “I shared something similar, did I nae?”
He nodded slowly. “Aye.”
“So we both spoke honestly,” she smiled. “There is naething tae apologize fer in that.”
The garden fell quiet again after her words, the evening settling around them like a gentle hush. The last light of day had nearly faded, leaving the herbs bathed in the soft glow from the castle windows.
Elaina watched Duncan carefully. He stood only a few steps away, calm as though he had accepted her reassurance without question. And suddenly, she wondered if she should tell him.
The thought rose so unexpectedly that it startled her.
Tell him everything.
For a fleeting moment, it seemed almost possible. Duncan had trusted her with something deeply personal that morning beneath the hawthorn tree. The memory still lingered between them like an unspoken thread. Honesty deserved honesty in return.
Her heart began to beat a little faster. Elaina lowered her gaze to the lavender stems still resting in her hands, her fingers turning them slowly as she gathered her thoughts.
“Me own maither taught me everything I ken about healing,” she admitted quietly.
Duncan’s attention sharpened at once. “Aye?”
She nodded, still studying the flowers.
“She believed knowledge should be shared freely,” Elaina continued. “Nae guarded or hidden away.”
The words felt strangely heavy on her tongue.
“She would gather herbs in the early mornings,” she continued, despite the pain, “long before the rest of the household woke. I followed her everywhere.”
A faint smile touched her lips as the memory surfaced.
“I must have been very small at the time, yet she insisted I learn the names of every plant we found. Lavender, yarrow, hawthorn… she treated them as if they were old friends.”
Duncan watched her closely.
“She sounds like a remarkable teacher.”
“She was.”
Elaina drew in a slow breath.
This is the moment. Now.
The lavender trembled slightly between her fingers as she lifted her gaze to Duncan again. He stood patiently a few paces away. The fading light softened the sharp lines of his face, leaving only the steady attentiveness in his eyes.
He was waiting.
Elaina could feel the words gathering behind her lips, fragile and dangerous all at once. If she spoke them, if she told him who she truly was, why she had gone there, what she had left behind… there would be no taking them back.
Her heart was beating in her throat now, making it difficult to breathe.
“Duncan…” she began, using his first name.
And then, the moment shattered. A distant bell rang sharply from the castle tower.
Once. Twice. Three times.
The sound carried across the courtyard and over the garden walls. Elaina closed her eyes for the briefest moment.
Of course.
Footsteps followed the bell a moment later.
“Laird Grant?”
A young servant appeared at the entrance to the garden, slightly breathless from running.
“Me laird, ye are expected in the hall. The Council has gathered already.”
The interruption lingered awkwardly in the air. Elaina lowered her eyes to the lavender still resting in her hand, carefully brushing the soil from the stems. The words she had been about to speak slipped quietly back into silence.
“Go,” she smiled at him. “I should return these tae the healer’s room,” she said, feeling composed again.
Duncan watched her as though he sensed something unfinished between them, but he did not press.
“Aye,” he said quietly. “We should both go.”
The servant waited politely near the gate as Duncan stepped aside, allowing Elaina to pass ahead of him along the path. They walked back toward the castle in silence.
Behind them, the garden grew still once more, and the truth she had nearly spoken remained unsaid.
The armory smelled of iron, oil, and old leather.
Duncan found himself standing near the long wooden table in the center of the room, with his sleeves rolled back as he worked a cloth slowly along the edge of a broadsword.
The blade caught the pale light streaming through the narrow windows, reflecting it in thin flashes as he turned it carefully in his hands.
Along with his study, the armory had always been one of the few places in the castle where his thoughts could settle.
Steel required attention. Neglect a blade and it dulled. Ignore rust and it crept slowly across the metal until the weapon weakened. A sword demanded care, patience, and a steady hand. Unlike people, it was honest work.
Duncan ran the cloth once more along the length of the blade before inspecting the edge with a critical eye.
Beside him, several other weapons lay arranged neatly across the table: daggers, short swords, and a pair of pistols recently brought in for repair.
A small pot of oil sat nearby, its sharp scent mingling with the heavier smell of iron that filled the chamber.
Duncan had just finished checking the edge of a dagger when the armory door opened again. He glanced up and to his surprise, it was not another guard. Elaina stepped into the room.
The armory was hardly the place he expected to see her.
She paused just inside the doorway, her gaze finding him immediately.
“I have been looking fer ye,” she said instead of a morning greeting.
Duncan straightened slightly, setting the dagger aside. What he momentarily felt was quiet relief, because she was smiling. After the unfinished conversation in the garden the night before, he had half expected distance, perhaps even awkwardness. Instead, she looked entirely composed.
“Is everything alright?” he asked.
“Aye,” she answered quickly. “Everything is quite well.”
She stepped closer to the table, glancing briefly at the spread of weapons with mild curiosity before returning her attention to him.
“It is only that me materials seem tae be disappearing rather more quickly than I realized.”
Duncan raised a brow. “Yer herbs?”
“Some of them, aye. But also jars, linen, and certain supplies I use fer preparing remedies.” She shrugged lightly. “I suspect the castle is discovering the usefulness of a healer.”
“That sounds likely.”
Elaina smiled faintly.
“I was hoping ye might allow one of the guards tae accompany me tae the market.”
Duncan’s expression remained calm, though Iain’s words from earlier that morning surfaced immediately in his mind.
Strangers asking questions. Money changing hands.
He picked up the cloth again, though his attention remained firmly on her.
“What dae ye need?”
“Several things,” she said. “Dried chamomile, clean linen, a few glass jars. The merchant in town should have them.”
He wiped the blade carefully before setting it aside.
“I will come with ye.”
Elaina blinked. “If ye’re busy, as I ken ye are, ye dinnae need tae dae that.”
“Perhaps nae.” He met her gaze without hesitation. “But I will.”
She watched him, clearly weighing whether to argue. He could recognize that look now. Then, she gave a small nod.
“Very well.”
“We could go tomorrow or the day after tomorrow,” he suggested.
“Of course,” she smiled in return. “Thank ye.”
Before he could respond, she had already started down the corridor, her steps light and confident as she headed toward the courtyard. Duncan watched her for a moment.
If Elaina walked unguarded through a castle full of soldiers, he was going to make certain she did not attempt the same thing in town.