Chapter 31
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Morning light spilled gently through the tall windows of the dining hall, soft and golden, warming the stone walls and the long wooden table where they sat. The air carried the comforting scent of fresh bread and brewed tea, and it was reassuring in a way Elaina had not expected to feel so deeply.
Catriona was already speaking.
“…and if we dry the roots properly this time, they will last through the colder months,” she was saying. Her hands were moving lightly as she spoke, while her enthusiasm was bright and unrestrained. “We could prepare enough tae treat half the village if needed.”
Elaina nodded with her attention on the words. At least, she tried to keep it there.
“Aye,” she replied softly. “But they must be stored carefully. Too much damp, and they will spoil before they can be used.”
Catriona smiled, pleased. “Then we will see tae it ourselves.”
We.
The word settled quietly, as though their plans had always included her.
Elaina’s fingers tightened faintly around her cup before she lifted it, taking a small sip to steady herself. Across from her, Duncan sat in his usual place, composed as ever. His attention was seemingly fixed on the meal before him.
And yet, she felt the weight of his gaze, although she barely looked at him. She couldn’t because his eyes would bring the memory of the night before, how he had held her as though she were something to be protected not out of duty, but with care.
Then, curiosity won over and she dared a glance, just a brief one. Their eyes met. And for a moment, the world around them faded. Elaina looked away first, with the faintest warmth rising to her cheeks.
Catriona continued speaking with a barely noticeable flicker of a smile, unaware or perhaps simply choosing not to notice.
“And when we gather next, we should take more time near the eastern ridge,” she pointed out. “There are plants there I have nae yet seen, and I would very much like tae—”
“Of course,” Elaina said quickly, though her thoughts were elsewhere. “We can go.”
Catriona beamed. “Good.”
Elaina allowed herself a small smile, though her gaze drifted slightly, relishing the quiet steadiness of the morning and the ease that had settled so naturally between them.
It felt… right, because for the first time in longer than she could remember, she was not waiting for the moment she would have to leave. She was there, sitting at a table with them and speaking of plans that stretched beyond the day, beyond necessity and beyond survival.
When she glanced in Duncan’s direction, he was already watching her. It was never in a way that would draw attention, but enough to make her feel it. She did not look away immediately.
There was a question there, a quiet wonder that neither of them dared to give voice to.
Could this last? Could she stay? Could there be a life here, one not defined by fear or flight, but by quiet mornings, shared work, and the steady presence of those who had come to mean more to her than she had ever intended?
This was the first time she had allowed herself to consider it not as a passing thought, but as a possibility and that was, at the same time, both terrifying and beautiful.
The moment lingered, but then, the doors suddenly opened and Iain stepped inside.
“Me laird,” he began, “forgive the intrusion.”
“What is it?” Duncan straightened.
“I must speak with ye, me laird,” Iain replied.
Elaina saw the hesitation in Duncan’s face. He seemed to be weighing whether to send her and Catriona away or to allow them to remain. He didn’t say anything, but Elaina knew that he had to be the laird now. She set her cup down carefully, rising before he could make the decision for them.
“We are finished here,” she said gently, as though nothing had changed at all. “And there is work tae be done in the healer’s chamber.”
Catriona blinked once, then followed her lead without question, standing as well.
“Aye,” she agreed with a smile. “We should get tae it.”
Elaina turned slightly toward Duncan. Their eyes met, and although there was no time for words, it was enough to show his gratitude. It passed between them in a single glance. Then it was gone.
Elaina inclined her head slightly and turned away, moving toward the doors with Catriona beside her, and the warmth of the morning still lingering faintly within her as she stepped away from it.
As she left the hall, she carried the quiet warmth of his look with her, as though it might follow her wherever she went.
Once the door had closed behind them, and the last echo of their departure had faded, Iain wasted no time.
“Ye cannae put this off any longer, me laird,” he urged. “Fraser’s offer still stands, and the Council grows less patient by the hour.”
Duncan did not immediately reply. He reached instead for the cup before him, though he did not drink from it. Instead, he kept his gaze fixed upon the dark surface as if it might yield some clarity.
“I am aware of the Council’s disposition,” he replied.
“Then ye must also be aware,” Iain continued, “that they will soon cease tae regard yer silence as deliberation and begin tae see it as refusal.”
That earned him a sharp glance.
“And if it is?” Duncan asked.
Iain did not hesitate. “Then ye will be expected tae answer fer it.”
A brief silence followed, broken only by the quiet crackle of the hearth. Duncan set his cup aside.
“Like I said once, I will nae decide this without speaking tae her.”
The words were calm, but they carried a finality that did not escape Iain’s notice.
“Aye,” Iain nodded. “Ye’ve already said that. And have ye spoken tae her?”
“Nay,” Duncan admitted, inhaling deeply, then raking his fingers through his hair. “As I’ve also already said, I dinnae ken whether she would accept such a match, nor dae I intend tae assume that she must. She has already been treated as a means tae an end once before. I will nae dae the same.”
The comment was controlled, yet unmistakably personal, and that gave Iain pause.
“Ye would refuse Fraser’s alliance for the sake of her opinion?” he asked, although there was no judgment in his tone. He was merely worried, just like the rest of them. Duncan could understand that.
“I would refuse it if it were nae freely chosen,” Duncan replied. “I will nae bind her tae me for the sake of strategy alone.”
Iain regarded him in silence for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly as he weighed both the man before him and the consequences of such resolve.
“Ye place a great deal upon a single conversation,” he pointed out.
“I place it where it belongs.” The answer came without hesitation.
Iain watched him more closely now. “Ye speak as though this concerns only principle.”
Duncan did not answer at once. He gave it a moment’s thought.
“It concerns what is right.”
A faint, knowing look crossed Iain’s face, though he did not press the point.
“What is right,” he said quietly, “may soon stand in opposition tae what is necessary.”
Duncan met his gaze. “Then we will find another way.”
“Ye may nae have the luxury of time tae find one,” Iain reminded him, as a true friend always would. “MacKenzie is nae longer a distant concern. He is breathing down our necks. Ye ken that.”
“Aye,” Duncan nodded. “I will speak with her today.”
Iain inclined his head, though whether in agreement or acceptance of what could not be changed was not entirely clear.
“See that ye dae,” he urged. “Fer all our sakes.”
Duncan gave a brief nod, his thoughts already elsewhere, no longer upon the Council, nor even upon Fraser’s offer, but upon the woman who had, in so short a time, altered the course of every decision before him.