Chapter 22
Erica woke up with a knot under her ribs. It sat there when she dressed. It sat there when Leah combed her hair. It sat there when she stepped into the passageway and took the long route to the hall. The route that did not pass by Alex’s study or the stairs he used at first light.
She was avoiding him.
She entered late enough that most of the hot trays had cooled. Grandmamma and Lady Bryden sat near the head, their teacups steaming.
Erica sat three seats down, far from the high chair. She kept her eyes on her plate and tore her bread into neat pieces that she did not eat.
Instead, she listened to the older women as they talked. She wasn’t particularly invested in their conversation, but she could hear bits and pieces. Enough to glean the subject.
They spoke of rain and seeds. Grandmamma, especially, talked about the fields that had yielded well across the river and fields that had failed along the north ridge.
Lady Bryden then asked if the barley was good this year, because the reverse was always the case back in Bryden. Grandmamma had nodded, tapping her spoon as if counting.
“Some years favor the low ground,” she said. “Some serve the slopes. We learn it and work with it.”
Lady Bryden’s mouth curved. “Much like men.”
“Much like love,” Grandmamma said lightly, as if discussing the weather. “One season may crown it. Another may test it severely.”
Erica’s hands went still as she felt the words land where she did not want them. She swallowed and reached for her cup, as if tea might mask the heat in her face.
Was that what was happening between her and Alex?
Was their love being tested?
Could she even call it that? Love?
She didn’t have time to respond to the question in her head as the sound of footsteps came from the passageway.
She looked up, and sure enough, it was Alex.
She watched him walk to the chair at the far side and sat as if nothing had broken in him or her the night before.
He greeted Grandmamma and Lady Bryden, then thanked a servant for the bread and said it was better than last week’s batch.
He asked Calum, who had just entered behind him, if the east wall shift was over.
His tone was even all the while, and his face gave away nothing. It might as well have been any morning of any month.
For a brief minute, even Erica began to wonder if the fight between them had truly happened, or if it was a figment of her imagination. She cut her bread again, in smaller bites this time. The knife caught on a hard bit of crust. She set it down.
“Fine morning,” Alex said, glancing toward the high windows. “Good light for the yard.”
“Aye,” Grandmamma agreed. “The wind is kind.”
“Kind now,” Lady Bryden added. “It may turn later.”
Erica bit back a sound she did not trust.
How could he be so casual about this? He didn’t know just how mad he was driving her by refusing to comment on what had happened the previous day.
Really? Nae even a single word?
She lifted her head and found her voice steady. “Well, some seasons do more than turn,” she said. “Some strip what ye thought ye could keep.”
Grandmamma’s spoon paused, and Lady Bryden’s gaze slid to her hands.
Alex’s head turned a fraction. He did not take the bait at first.
“The season is what it is,” he said. “We mind our stores and plan for the unexpected.”
“Stores only help so far,” Erica said. She kept her tone polite and her eyes on her cup. “If a man says he will keep a roof sound, yet leaves a hole in it, the wind slips in anyway.”
The table fell quiet. Erica could hear a servant set down a dish and back away at once. Calum’s eyes shifted from her to Alex and back.
Alex lifted his teacup but did not drink. “If a roof is weak,” he said mildly, “a man supports it. A quick brace may save a house.”
“Maybe the brace shouldnae be offered if the man has nay plan to mend the beam,” Erica said. She looked at him then for the space of a breath. “It spares folks from thinking they are safe when they arenae.”
Silence grew even thicker.
Out of the corner of her eye, Erica could see Grandmamma’s mouth flatten in thought. She felt the heat climb her neck at that moment and hated herself for it. She set her napkin down and rose before the tightness in her chest could show on her face.
“Please excuse me,” she said, voice soft and even.
She did not look at her mother or even at him again. She just left the hall with measured steps, each one counted, each one held steady.
She turned away from the main stairs and took the smaller, older one, which smelled faintly of lye and wool. Leah caught up with her at the landing with a basket on her arm.
“Ye didnae eat much, me Lady,” she remarked.
“‘Tis all right, Leah. I feel full already.”
“Are ye sure, me Lady?”
“Aye. I will take a walk later this afternoon around the garden,” Erica answered. “I would like ye to join me.”
Leah considered that and nodded. “Aye. ‘Tis nay problem at all.”
Later that afternoon, they stepped into the courtyard.
The air was clean and cool, but despite that, the knot in Erica’s chest had not loosened.
She breathed past it and set her pace to the straight paths between beds.
She asked Leah about the lilies along the east wall. Leah answered, quick and sure.
At that moment, Erica was grateful that her maid liked to give detailed answers. It saved her from having to speak and helped her focus on her voice and exactly what she was saying.
Leah spoke about which roots liked shade, which stalks needed stakes. Where a patch had been pulled and replanted because someone had ignored the rot last year.
“Ye saved this bed,” she said, tipping her chin toward the place where Erica had knelt days before. “The garden would have remained disorganized if ye hadnae stepped in.”
“It was nothing,” Erica said.
“It wasnae nothing,” Leah countered. “When ye become the lady here, ye will do even more. Clan MacMillan couldnae ask for better.”
Erica’s teeth caught her tongue. She tasted copper but said nothing. She bent to pinch a browned leaf, as if the small act required her whole attention.
Leah did not seem to notice the tightness in her shoulders. “I have a list for the gardener,” she went on. “If ye wish to add—”
“Later,” Erica said, not unkind, only too quick. “Let us walk a bit more.”
They rounded a clipped hedge, and the yard opened ahead of them, hard-packed earth marked by feet and blades.
The training yard.
Of course. Why didn’t she think before crossing to this part of the castle?
He was there.
Good God.
Men formed a loose square under Alex’s orders. She watched for a brief moment as he moved among them, checking grips and shifting stances by the wrist or shoulder, all while saying very little. When he did speak, men straightened as if a rope had lifted them.
Erica remained frozen where she stood. The knot in her chest pulled tight again. She took in the line of his back, the tilt of his head, the way he favored his left when he stepped in to duel.
Suddenly, the image of his body in the lake at night flashed through her head. She pushed it away immediately before it could go too far.
“We should turn around,” she said.
Leah blinked at her. “Is something amiss?”
“I forgot something,” Erica blurted. “In me room.”
Leah followed her gaze toward the yard. Alex had just shifted a guard’s elbow and said something Erica could not hear. The man nodded once, took a breath, and tried again.
“If ye want me to fetch it,” Leah offered, “I can go and—”
“Nay,” Erica said. “I would like to go back on me own.”
Leah searched her face, then gave a small nod. “As ye wish, me Lady.”
They turned, and Erica kept her eyes on the path. She felt the yard at her back, the hum of voices, and the sharp sound of wood on wood as men drilled.
Daenae turn around. Daenae look.
She looked anyway.
And their eyes met.
Alex had turned, as if the air itself had told him she was there. His gaze found her across the clipped green and the hard ground.
For the briefest breath, nothing moved. Only his eye on hers.
Erica tore her gaze away first. She stepped past the hedge and out of sight, the corner swallowing her like a door closing.
She let the wall hide her and did not look back.
She then kept walking until the yard noise thinned and the knot under her ribs loosened enough that she could breathe without counting.
Only then did she let her shoulders drop a fraction and draw a steadier breath.
Leah did not speak, and Erica was grateful for that. They took the old stairs up and came into the silence of the passageway, where the light fell in narrow bands.
Leah shifted the basket and cleared her throat. “The east bed in the garden,” she said, as if nothing had happened. “I was wondering if ye will want a bit of peat worked in as well. If ye like, we can do it later.”
“Aye,” Erica said. “Later.”
They walked on.