Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Duncan entered the Great Hall a little later than usual. Servants were already moving between the benches with practiced ease, placing bread and steaming platters of meat before the gathered members of the household.
Rain had begun to strike the high windows in steady sheets, while the wind rattled faintly against the shutters as the storm strengthened outside.
He paused just inside the doorway, allowing his gaze to move instinctively across the room. It took him only a moment to realize what was wrong.
Elaina was not there.
Catriona was seated near the center of the table speaking animatedly to one of the older council members. Iain leaned back in his chair nearby, and his attention was divided between the conversation and the mug in his hand. But Elaina’s place remained empty.
Duncan frowned faintly.
Perhaps she was simply late.
He crossed the hall and took his seat at the head of the table. Catriona looked up immediately.
“Duncan,” she said brightly. “Ye’re finally—”
She stopped. Her eyes moved past him. Then back again.
“Where is Elaina?”
Duncan blinked. “Ye havenae seen her?”
Catriona shook her head slowly. “I thought she would be with ye.”
Across the table, Iain lifted his gaze.
“Aye,” he said. “I assumed the same.”
“Perhaps she simply was nae hungry,” Duncan kept his voice steady. “Or she has some… urgent healer business.”
He tore a piece of bread, though he had no intention of eating it. The movement gave his hands something to do, something that might disguise the faint tension settling into his shoulders.
Across the table, Catriona watched him for a moment, then she sighed. It was not done loudly, but with the unmistakable patience of someone who had endured this sort of behavior many times before.
“Och, for heaven’s sake, Duncan.”
He glanced up. “What?”
She leaned back in her chair, folding her arms.
“Pretending ye have nay feelings willnae make them go away.”
Duncan froze. The piece of bread remained halfway between the table and his plate.
“I have nae idea what ye are talking about.”
Catriona gave him a long, unimpressed look. “Aye, ye dae.”
Iain, sitting nearby, lifted his mug slightly but said nothing. The faint curve at the corner of his mouth suggested he had no intention of interfering. Duncan set the bread down.
“Ye are imagining things.”
“Am I?” Catriona asked calmly.
“Aye.”
She leaned forward slightly now, lowering her voice so the rest of the table would not overhear. “It has been obvious fer quite some time that ye care about her.”
Duncan felt his jaw tighten. “That is nae—”
“And pretending otherwise is nae helping anyone,” she continued firmly.
“I am nae pretending anything.”
“Ye absolutely are.”
Duncan glanced toward Iain as though expecting support. The captain merely shrugged.
“She has a point,” he said mildly.
Duncan stared at him. “Ye as well?”
Iain took another slow drink from his mug before setting it down with deliberate calm.
“I suspected it the moment ye brought her here.”
Duncan frowned. “Suspected what?”
Iain leaned back in his chair, watching him with that infuriatingly knowing expression. “That there was something more than her healing.”
Catriona made a small triumphant sound. “Exactly.”
Duncan’s patience thinned. He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, thunder cracked loudly outside.
The sound rolled across the hall like a cannon shot, rattling faintly through the stone walls.
Duncan’s head snapped toward the tall windows.
Rain lashed against the glass now, the storm fully broken across the hills.
For a single moment he stood perfectly still, then he was on his feet. The chair behind him scraped sharply across the floor as he pushed it aside.
“Duncan—” Catriona began.
But he was already moving. He did not explain, nor did he wait. He crossed the hall in long strides, barely aware of the startled looks from the council members as he passed. The heavy doors groaned as he shoved them open, the roar of wind and rain rushing instantly into the hall.
“Where are ye going tae look for her?” Iain called after him.
Duncan did not answer. He did not know. He only knew that she was not there, and that the storm outside was growing worse by the moment.
Before anyone could rise to follow him, he had already disappeared into the rain.
The rain had grown mercilessly colder. It fell steadily through the branches of the oak, dripping in relentless drops that found their way through the shelter of the leaves.
Elaina stood with her shoulder against the rough bark, with her arms wrapped tightly around herself and her breath coming in small clouds of mist in the chilled air.
Her skirts were soaked through. The damp fabric clung uncomfortably to her legs, and the mud that trapped her boot had grown heavier with every passing minute.
She had tried several more times to free herself. Each attempt had ended the same way, with the stubborn root refusing to yield and the mud tightening its hold around her foot.
Now she had stopped struggling. It wasted too much energy. Instead, she waited, shivering as the wind swept through the clearing and the rain slid down the back of her neck.
She wondered if she would remain there all night. The thought was not entirely impossible. The castle lights were hidden behind the curtain of rain now, and the storm had swallowed most of the familiar sounds of the grounds.
No one would think to look for her there.
Another shiver ran through her. She shifted slightly, trying to ease the pressure of the root against her ankle. Then, she saw something move in the distance. At first, she thought it was only the shifting of the branches in the wind, but then she saw it again.
A figure.
Someone was moving quickly through the rain toward the clearing.
Elaina straightened instinctively. The man was little more than a dark shape at first, cutting through the storm with determined strides.
The rain poured off him in sheets. As he came closer, the faint light from the sky caught the outline of his shoulders.
Duncan.
By the time he reached the tree, he was completely drenched. Rain had soaked through his shirt entirely, and the dark fabric was clinging tightly to his chest and arms. The wet cloth traced every line of muscle beneath it. The water was running in thin streams down his sleeves.
Elaina stared. She had never seen him look so…
She caught herself. Duncan stopped abruptly when he saw her standing beneath the oak.
Neither of them spoke. Rain drummed heavily against the leaves above them, the wind tugging at the loose strands of her hair.
Then Duncan ran a hand roughly through his rain-soaked hair, pushing it back from his face.
“What are ye daein’ here?” he shouted through the onslaught of rain. “I’ve been looking fer ye!”
The words came out breathless, half relief and half frustration.
Elaina blinked. “Ye… what?”
He stepped closer beneath the shelter of the branches, with water still dripping steadily from his sleeves.
“Ye werenae at dinner.”
The concern in his voice surprised her more than the rain.
“And then the storm got even worse.”
Elaina couldn’t tear her gaze away from him, feeling the rainwater sliding slowly down her temple as she tried to process the fact that Duncan Grant had apparently come out into a storm simply to look for her.
He stepped closer beneath the branches, his presence filling the small shelter the oak provided.
Up close she could see just how thoroughly drenched he was.
His dark shirt clung tightly to his chest and shoulders, outlining the strength of him in a way that made it difficult for her to look anywhere else.
“Ye must be freezing,” he said.
Elaina could not help the small smile that touched her lips.
“That, too,” she admitted softly.
Another gust of wind swept through the clearing, scattering rain through the leaves above them. She shivered involuntarily, and she could feel the wet fabric of her gown clinging unpleasantly to her skin.
“But that is nae me only difficulty,” she added. “I am stuck.”
For a moment he simply stared. Then he crouched immediately, the rain-soaked fabric of his sleeve brushing the mud as he examined the root and the heavy soil gripping her boot.
Duncan reached carefully toward the root, pushing aside the wet earth with his hand to see how deeply her foot was caught. The contact of his fingers against the mud was firm and deliberate, while his movements were patient as he worked to loosen the soil.
“Ye should have called for help,” he murmured.
Elaina smiled faintly, though she felt overwhelmed and on the verge of bursting into tears, both happy and frightened.
“In the middle of a storm?” she asked.
He glanced up at her then, with rainwater dripping from his hair across his forehead.
“I was worried,” he admitted quietly.
The words caught her off guard. For a moment she forgot entirely about the rain.
“Ye were?”
“Aye.”
He returned his attention to the root, prying the fabric of her skirt free where it had snagged beneath the twisted wood.
“When ye didnae appear at dinner,” he continued, “and the storm began…”
He shook his head slightly, as though dismissing the thought.
“Hold still,” he said.
Elaina obeyed. Duncan braced one hand against the trunk of the oak and used the other to pull gently at the root, shifting it just enough to loosen the grip of the mud. The ground squelched loudly. Then suddenly, her boot slid free.
Elaina gasped softly as she stumbled forward, her balance momentarily lost. Duncan caught her immediately. His hands closed around her arms, steadying her before she could fall.
“Easy,” he murmured.
Elaina nodded faintly, though she was not certain whether he spoke of the fall or of the strange, sudden rush of emotion rising inside her chest.
He released her slowly. Then, without a word, his hand moved gently to the small of her back. The touch was light and almost hesitant, but steady as he guided her away from the tree.
“Come,” he said quietly.
The path back toward the castle was already slick with mud, the rain turning the grass into dark patches of shining earth. Duncan stayed close beside her as they walked, his hand resting protectively at her back each time the ground grew uneven.
Neither of them spoke as they crossed the open stretch of ground toward the castle walls. The storm battered the towers now, and the wind was howling through the courtyard as they reached the gate.
By the time they stepped inside, Elaina was shivering badly. Duncan noticed at once.
“Ye’re freezing,” he said.
“It is only the rain,” she replied faintly.
But her teeth had begun to chatter. He did not argue. Instead he led her straight through the corridors of the castle, ignoring the curious looks from the few servants still moving about as he guided her toward her chamber.
When they reached her door, he opened it without hesitation.
“Inside,” he said.
Elaina stepped into the room, the sudden warmth of the hearth striking her like a wave after the cold storm outside.
Duncan turned immediately toward the corridor again.
“Annie,” he called to a passing servant.
The young girl stopped abruptly. “Aye, me laird?”
“Bring hot tea. And warm towels.”
“At once.”
Duncan nodded once, then stepped back into the chamber. Elaina stood near the hearth, with rainwater dripping quietly onto the floor beneath her cloak. She watched him move with calm efficiency, closing the door behind them and pulling a chair closer to the fire.
Duncan knelt beside the hearth, adding another log to the flames before glancing back toward her. The firelight caught the damp strands of his hair and the water still clinging to his clothes. He had not even noticed his own discomfort.
The realization struck her suddenly.
“Ye are just as wet as I am,” she said softly.
Duncan shrugged. “I’ll live.”
But the gentleness in his voice and the quiet care in every movement he had made since finding her beneath the oak pressed unexpectedly against her heart.
It was too much. He was too kind. He was too careful. And she had been lying to him all this time.
Elaina suddenly burst into tears.