Chapter 19
The scent hit her before her eyes even opened.
Chamomile.
Had I fallen asleep? What time was it?
For a moment, Amara thought she was dreaming.
She opened her eyes and sat up slowly. A soft blue light crept through the edges of the curtains.
There, beside the hearth, a silver tray waited. Steam curled from the teapot. Slices of honeyed bannock sat next to a small dish of softened butter.
She rose, wrapping a shawl around her shoulders. It was only then that she noticed the note folded beneath the teacup.
The handwriting was bold and slanted. Busy today. Explore as you wish, lass. See you at supper. – R
Amara read it three times over.
She pressed the edge of the note to her lips, half-smiling. It wasn’t poetic. It wasn’t even particularly warm. But it was, in a way, and it was thoughtful, in a way as well.
He wanted her here. He wanted her to stay.
She bit into the bannock and let the warmth melt across her tongue. Her chest filled with something dangerously close to joy.
And then, a flicker of doubt.
Should I stay?
Could I?
If her faither sent word for her now, she was even more unconvinced that she would obey his wishes and leave. She was unconvinced that her life was leading her back to Murdoch Keep.
Nina arrived shortly after she finished the food and tea that Rhys had brought her. After dressing and discussing different areas for her to explore that day, Nina was pointing her down the corridor and speaking directions at her back as Amara set off.
She found her way to a small library, down to the kitchens, and through the inner bailey before she ventured out into the late morning sun.
The storm that raged through the night had left behind dew on every blade of grass and the scent of wet stone.
She wandered quietly, hands clasped before her, letting the breeze tease at the edge of her gown. She looked over her shoulder to see if she was being followed by Myles or William, not only once, but twice, and found she was truly alone and free to explore as she wished.
Amara smiled to herself.
It felt strange to walk freely. A few O’Donnell clansmen passed her by and nodded, and while it wasn’t quite with warmth, it was with civility. No one scowled. None muttered insults under their breaths.
Progress, mayhap?
She reached the edge of the stables just as a high-pitched giggle tore through the morning air.
Amara smiled instantly.
There, in the field before her, was Daisy. With outstretched arms and trotting next to a red pony in a wide circle.
The stablemaster watched them from a safe distance, arms folded, eyes half-exasperated.
“Faster, Cherry!” the young girl shouted, a hint of impatience lacing the demand.
The pony tossed its mane and broke into a light canter at the girl’s order, and Daisy ran to keep pace for just a moment before she stumbled in the soft grass. She rolled dramatically before bursting into a fit of laughter.
The stablemaster sighed, “Mind yer footin', lassie.”
Amara moved closer, staying near the fence post. “That’s a mighty fine trick, Daisy,” she called.
Daisy turned, spotted her, and beamed. “Lady Amara! Look! I’m training her like Uncle Finn showed me!”
“I can see that,” Amara said with a grin. “And do ye always throw yerself to the ground after ye’ve gotten yer way? Or is it just with ponies?”
Daisy giggled again and trotted over to the fence. Her cheeks were flushed from the wind, hair was wild and tangled, knees grass-stained. “I told Cherry she had to work harder today, but she’s been so lazy!”
Amara leaned on the fence. “Well, perhaps Miss Cherry has just been enjoyin’ her peace and ye have come in with yer demands… overwhelmin' her.”
“Da says peace is important, but so is bein’ ready! So…” Daisy’s eyes fell to the ground before meeting Amara’s gaze once more. “So, how do I stop overwhelmin’ her then, but still get me way?”
“Well, I think yer papa is very wise. I’m a firm believer that carrots will help.”
The stablemaster pointed into the stable and Daisy’s face lit up and she started her run toward the entryway, but not before she skidded to a halt and turned to face Amara once more. “Thank ye! I’ll see ye at supper, Lady Amara!”
“Aye, I’ll be there,” she said softly, and waved at the girl before she turned and disappeared into the dark stables.
Amara nodded at the stablemaster once, and turned away from the field. Her shawl fluttering wildly behind her as the sun climbed higher.
The path behind the stables sloped gently downward, curving past old stone walls and the outer gardens that Nina had pointed her toward when she was giving her directions that morning.
Amara had meant only to follow it a short while, just enough to stretch her legs after speaking with Daisy, but something about the air urged her onward.
The keep loomed behind her now, distant but steady. With each step away from it, the world seemed to widen. The grass was slick beneath her boots, dotted with wild heather and bursts of gorse, and the wind tugged playfully at her shawl.
A wooden gate stood open at the end of the track, revealing a narrow trail pressed into the hill beyond.
She hesitated.
Is this the boundary of the perimeter? Should I go… or… Amara looked back toward the keep, only the upper arrow windows could be seen now.
Then she faced the gate, pausing for only a few more moments.
And then she ducked through it.
The trail wove through a small thicket of pine, branches whispering above her, needles scattered across the soil like confetti from a forgotten celebration.
When she emerged again, blinking against the sun, her breath caught in her throat.
There, just beyond a low rise, the land dropped off into a staggering cliff face. Below, not the sea, but a massive loch shimmered. It was a deep and dark and endless blue, and carved between towering bluffs like a secret basin only the O’Donnells knew of.
The wind whooshed upward from the water, carrying the scent of stone and rain and something almost metallic.
It was wild. Untamed. Unapologetically beautiful.
And it made her feel freer than she had in years.
She stood there for a long moment, arms folded across her chest, eyes sweeping the vast horizon. For the first time since her mother’s death, she felt the absence of eyes on her. The absence of judgment. The absence of expectation.
It was just her breath and the breeze and silence.
I could stay…
I should stay.
I want to stay.
The breeze whipped around her as she neared the edge of the cliffside, and she let her hair tumble around her. Blind her.
A bell rang in the distance or perhaps she was mistaken.
It rang again, faint at first, then stronger as the wind shifted.
The supper bell.
Amara exhaled and turned back toward the keep, heart lighter than it had been in days.
By the time she arrived back at the keep, her cheeks were pink from wind and her hair smelled faintly of horses and heather.
She hadn’t meant to stay out so long, and as she crossed the threshold of the grand front entrance, something about the keep’s weathered stone and thrum of life tucked into each corner felt strangely hers. Like a memory she hadn’t lived yet.
Nina found her just inside the main corridor, breathless and fussing with a clean ribbon.
“Come, come, ye’re late. The laird will be down soon, and ye’ll nae be lettin’ him sit waitin’, with an empty seat beside him.”
Amara allowed herself to be whisked upstairs and into a fresh dress and let Nina fuss over her hair without protest.
She wanted to look nice.
She wanted him to see her and feel something.
By the time she reached the private dining hall, her heart was thudding.
The door was open.
Inside, a fire crackled in the hearth and Rhys stood near the head of the table, a hand resting on the back of a chair. He turned when she entered, and she didn’t miss the flicker of heat in his eyes.
“Ye found me,” he said, voice low.
“I think I was meant to,” she replied, smoothing her skirts.
His lips twitched, and then he nodded toward the others already seated.
Daisy was bouncing in her chair. Her cheeks were still flushed with joy, and she looked eager to share her progress with Cherry.
Next to her sat a man Amara didn’t recognize. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and the picturesque Adams smile with dimples to match. One of his arms was in a sling and bandages were visible at the collar.
This must be Finn.
Across from him, sat a slender woman with a kind face and sleeves rolled to the elbow.
The town healer… what was her name again?
“Lady Amara,” Rhys said, “this is Finn. Me cousin. And Mabel, who kept him alive long enough to insult everyone again.”
Finn grinned, teeth flashing. “I’d rise to greet ye, but I’ve been forbidden to jostle off me stitches.”
Amara smiled. “It’s an honor to meet ye, truly.”
“And a pleasure for me,” Finn said. “Rhys dinnae tell us that ye were such a bonny one.”
“I feel at a disadvantage then, Rhys warned me that ye would be a flatterer,” Amara replied, arching a brow.
Mabel snorted into her wine. “Daenae encourage him. He’ll write sonnets next.”
Finn waggled his brows and Daisy erupted into giggles.
The meal passed in waves of laughter, small talk, and teasing. Mabel passed dishes down the table with brisk affection, and Finn told outrageous tales of his escape.
All half-truths, she suspected, but delivered with such charm that no one cared.
Daisy could hardly sit still. She clung to every word, eyes wide, peppering Finn with questions.
And Rhys didn’t say much. But he watched it all. And every so often, when Amara caught his eye, he’d look at her as if she were part of it all. Almost like she belonged there.
It was terrifying how much those looks meant to her.
After supper, the group lingered until Daisy yawned mid-sentence.
“That’s our cue,” Rhys said, standing. “Come, little fox.”
Daisy pouted but slid from her chair and grabbed her father’s hand.
“I’ll see ye tomorrow,” she told Finn solemnly.