Chapter 32
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
The corridor beyond the dining hall was quiet, save for the soft echo of retreating footsteps and the distant murmur of voices now shut away behind closed doors.
Elaina walked beside Catriona, though her thoughts still lingered at the breakfast table, caught upon the tension she had not quite understood but had certainly felt.
Catriona, by contrast, appeared incapable of such solemn reflection for long.
“Well,” she said brightly, clasping her hands together as they slowed near the bend that led to their chambers, “that was most dramatic, was it nae? Me braither dismissing us with such urgency, why one would almost think the fate of the Highlands rests upon whatever it is he refuses tae say aloud.”
Elaina managed a faint smile, though her unease did not entirely lift. “Dae ye ken what it is about?”
Catriona tilted her head thoughtfully, though there was a spark of curiosity rather than concern in her expression. “If I did, I assure ye I should nae be standing here wondering,” she replied. “But I intend tae discover it soon enough.”
Elaina hesitated. She knew that her presence there was still wrapped under a veil of secrecy, and neither Catriona nor Duncan deserved that.
There was something she had long held too closely to share, something that felt at once fragile and defining, and yet, standing there beside Catriona, whose warmth had, in so short a time, become both disarming and comforting, she found herself less inclined to keep it guarded.
“Catriona,” she said more quietly now, “may I ask ye something?”
Catriona turned to her at once, with a bright smile. “Anything.”
Elaina’s gaze dropped briefly, her fingers folding together as though steadying her resolve. “Can I trust ye… as a friend?”
For a single instant, Catriona looked almost scandalized.
She placed a hand lightly against her chest in mock offense. “Me dear Elaina, I am deeply wounded that ye should even think it necessary tae ask.”
Despite herself, Elaina felt the corner of her mouth lift.
“Ye have me confidence entirely,” Catriona continued reassuringly. “I shall guard it with me life, if required, but I hope it willnae come tae such extremes.”
Encouraged, Elaina drew a quiet breath.
“Me maither…” she began, and in that single word, she felt more than love and sorrow alone.
“She taught me everything I ken. Healing, herbs, how tae observe, how tae listen. She used tae say that knowledge was of little use if nae guided by kindness. She wanted…” Elaina paused, as though the words required more care than she had expected.
“She wanted me tae marry a man who was kind and honorable, someone who would nae treat me as…” She trailed off, though the meaning lingered plainly enough.
“She said she would dae anything tae ensure that I didnae live as she had.”
For a moment, neither spoke. Then, with a sudden brightness that seemed to gather the gravity of the moment and gently turn it toward something lighter, Catriona smiled.
“Then I should say,” she declared, “that yer maither has done exceedingly well.”
Elaina blinked. “I beg yer pardon?”
“Why, she has led ye here, of course,” Catriona said, as though it were the most obvious conclusion in the world. “And I cannae imagine a more suitable outcome tae her wishes.”
Elaina stared at her, startled. “Ye cannae mean—”
“Oh, I very much can,” Catriona replied, and her eyes were alight with quiet satisfaction. “Dinnae look so surprised. Confinement, ye see, has made me exceptionally observant. When one is denied the freedom tae go where one pleases, one must instead learn tae see what others miss.”
Elaina’s composure faltered slightly beneath that steady gaze.
“I have watched ye and me braither,” Catriona continued, lowering her voice just enough to lend the words a conspiratorial air.
“The way he looks at ye, though I admit, he daes his best tae disguise it, and the way ye pretend nae tae notice, which, I assure ye, is nae nearly so convincing as ye might hope.”
Elaina felt a faint warmth rise to her cheeks. “Ye… are mistaken.”
“I am rarely mistaken,” Catriona corrected her cheerfully. “And in this instance, I should be delighted tae be proven correct.”
She stepped closer, her tone softening once more.
“I would be very happy tae call ye me sister.”
Elaina’s breath caught, the simplicity of the statement striking her more deeply than she had anticipated.
“While ye are most kind tae say so, that is… a great deal tae assume,” she replied carefully, though there was less certainty in her voice now than she might have wished.
“Is it?” Catriona returned gently. “Or merely a truth nae yet spoken aloud?”
Elaina hesitated, then looked away, her composure giving way just enough for honesty to find its place. After all, she had already started divulging her life story, mentioning her mother. It was so easy to continue along the same path, revealing more.
“I care fer him,” she admitted, quietly. “More than I intended tae, even more than I thought meself capable of.” A small, uncertain breath followed. “But naething has been said of marriage, nae by him and nae by me.”
Catriona regarded her with an expression of fond assurance.
“Me braither,” she said, “has spent the greater part of his life avoiding precisely such sentiments. If he has allowed himself tae feel them at all, ye may be certain they are nae lightly held.”
Elaina said nothing, allowing the words to nestle within the confines of her trembling heart.
“And I ken him,” Catriona added, her voice steady now in its conviction. “Better than anyone. If he loves ye, and I would stake a great deal upon the belief that he does, then he will nae rest until he has made ye his wife.”
The words felt like a warm and certain embrace.
Elaina did not immediately reply. They had only taken a few steps further along the corridor when the light from a narrow window caught her attention.
It spilled across the stone floor in a pale wash, drawing her gaze outward and there, in the courtyard below, she saw him.
Duncan was crossing the open space with a pace that was far from his usual measured stride.
There was something hurried in it, something urgent.
His shoulders were set too tightly and his head was slightly bowed as though weighed by thought, and even from that distance she could see the strain in him.
He did not look like a laird in command. He looked like a man under siege. It made Elaina’s breath catch.
“I must…” she began, turning toward Catriona, already searching for some suitable excuse.
But Catriona was already watching her with unmistakable understanding, her lips curving in a knowing smile.
“Go tae him,” she said at once, with gentle insistence. “Go now.”
Elaina hesitated only a moment longer before a small smile broke through her concern. She reached out, pressing her hand briefly to Catriona’s shoulder in silent gratitude.
“Thank ye,” she murmured.
Then she turned and hurried away. Not even a whole minute later, she was outside, feeling the sharp, cool air against her skin. Elaina gathered her skirts as she crossed the courtyard, feeling her heart beating faster than the pace alone could account for.
She had seen the direction he had taken.
The chapel.
By the time she reached it, her breath had grown uneven, though she scarcely noticed. The heavy wooden door stood slightly ajar, and she slipped inside without pause.
At once, the world seemed to still. The chapel was dim, lit only by the soft glow of candles that flickered along the stone walls. The scent of wax and aged wood lingered in the air, and the hush within pressed gently around her, as though demanding reverence.
And there, near the front, stood Duncan.
He had not yet turned. His head was bowed, and he had one hand braced against the back of a pew.
“Duncan…” she called out softly, his name lingering on her lips like a prayer in that holy place.
He looked up, as though he had sensed her before he had heard her. She moved closer, but was still cautious, as if approaching a wounded animal.
“What happened?” she asked softly.
She expected him to deflect, to dismiss her concern with some measured reply, or to retreat behind the same controlled silence he wore before others.
But he did neither. For a moment, he did not speak at all, then he turned. There was no mask in his expression now, and none of that careful restraint.
“MacKenzie,” he revealed.
The name alone was enough to send a chill through her.
“He has men in the town and every day, they are getting closer,” Duncan continued.
Elaina felt her fingers tighten slightly at her sides.
“He will nae stop,” Duncan told her. “Nae until he has what he wants.”
There was a pause, heavier than the last.
“I have seen what he daes,” he went on more quietly now. “What he is capable of.” His gaze shifted, though not away from her, rather, as though he were looking through time itself. “He… slaughtered me parents… without mercy… without cause beyond his own ambition.”
The words settled heavily in the stillness of the chapel, like droplets of blood on a pristine, white sheet. She could see the pain in his eyes. She could hear the anguish in his voice. And she knew that she was the cause of it.
“I cannot allow him to harm anyone else I…” He stopped, his jaw tightening briefly before he forced the words through. “Anyone I care about.”
Elaina’s heart stilled. She stepped closer, and her trembling fingers lifted to his face. Gently, she caressed his cheek.
“Am I…” she whispered, “the person ye speak of?”
Duncan’s gaze was on her. She could still see the pain in his eyes, but there was so much more.
“Dae ye still doubt it?” he asked quietly.
The question lingered between them. Elaina held his gaze.
“I care fer ye,” she said, the words coming more easily than she had expected. “More than I ever meant tae.” A breath followed, steady but full. “And I think… I have fer some time.”
She hesitated only a fraction of a moment before continuing, feeling more certain, for it seemed that that day was the day for confessions.
“I… have fallen in love with ye, Duncan.”
The words lingered between them, soft yet undeniable, as though the very air had stilled to hold them in place. Every unspoken thought, every restrained glance, every quiet moment they had shared seemed to gather there, waiting no longer to be denied.
Duncan did not look away. He lifted his hand to hers where it rested against his cheek, pressing it there more firmly, as though he could anchor himself in her touch.
“I love ye, too, Elaina,” he replied in a voice that was filled with a depth he had never before allowed himself to show.
“Ye are the only woman I have ever wished tae marry… and the only one I ever shall.” His thumb brushed faintly against her wrist in a small, reverent motion.
“If ye will have me,” he added more softly.
Elaina did not hesitate.
“Aye,” she said almost breathlessly, feeling the answer rising from somewhere deep and certain within her. “Aye, of course I will.”
He reached for her, his hand finding hers before drawing her closer. For a moment, they simply stood there, the weight of all that had been unspoken settling at last into something real.
Then he kissed her. The warmth of his lips was grounded in all that had led them here, in every glance, every hesitation, every moment of restraint that had finally given way.
Elaina felt the world narrow to that single point of contact, with the quiet of the chapel wrapping around them as though bearing witness. And for the first time since she had fled her past, she did not feel as though she were running.
She felt as though she had arrived.