Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
Kenneth sat at his desk, the flickering candlelight casting long shadows across the pile of correspondence before him.
The Highland Assembly loomed ever closer, and with it, the chance to secure his clan's future through an alliance with Laird MacDean.
Yet instead of focusing on the crucial preparations, his thoughts kept drifting to Sophie.
He rubbed his temples, frustrated by his own distraction.
Since their day in the village, he'd found it harder to keep his heart closed off.
The memory of her laughter, the way her eyes lit up when she spoke with the villagers, the sweet scent of heather that seemed to follow her everywhere – these thoughts plagued him day and night.
"Ye're becoming weak," he muttered to himself, hearing the words in his father's harsh voice.
A soft knock at the door interrupted his dark thoughts. "Enter," he called, his voice gruff.
Sophie stepped into the study, and Kenneth's breath caught. She wore a simple blue dress that brought out the green of her eyes, her hair falling in loose waves around her shoulders. The candlelight caught the golden strands, making them shimmer like threads of fine silk.
"Me laird," she said, a slight tremor in her voice. "I was hopin' ye might have some ink to spare. I've run out, and I need it for me writin'."
Kenneth's eyes narrowed slightly. He'd noticed how she'd taken to avoiding him since their wedding night, and now here she was, seeking him out. "Aye, I've ink to spare," he said, gesturing to the extra pot on his desk.
Sophie approached; her steps hesitant. As she reached for the ink, Kenneth caught the scent of heather that seemed to follow her everywhere, making his head spin with want. "Thank ye," she murmured.
Instead of leaving, she lingered, her fingers tracing the edge of his desk. The simple movement drew his eye to her delicate hands, and he found himself remembering how they had felt in his own. "I've been workin' on me novel," she said softly.
Despite himself, Kenneth felt a spark of interest. "Yer novel?" he asked, setting down his quill. "What sort of tale do ye spin?"
A smile lit up Sophie's face, and Kenneth felt his heart skip a beat. The transformation was remarkable – gone was the hesitant, uncertain woman who had entered his study. In her place stood a passionate storyteller, her eyes bright with enthusiasm.
"It's an adventure story," she said, her earlier nervousness forgotten.
"About a lass who disguises herself as a lad to join a band of Highland warriors.
She's brave and clever, but she's also afraid of being discovered.
And there's this one warrior who suspects something about her isnae quite what it seems.. ."
"And what adventures does this lass find herself in?" Kenneth asked, fighting back a smile at her obvious excitement.
Sophie's eyes sparkled. "That's actually why I'm here. I was hopin'... well, I was hopin' ye might share one of yer own adventures with me. For inspiration, ye ken?"
Kenneth tensed, memories of darker times threatening to surface. "I daenae think me tales would be suitable for yer novel, lass."
"Please?" Sophie stepped closer, and Kenneth caught another whiff of heather. "Ye mentioned trackin' criminals before. Could ye tell me about one of those times?"
Kenneth studied her face, seeing only genuine interest there. With a sigh, he gestured to the chair across from his desk. "Very well. There was one time, about two years ago..."
As he spoke, Kenneth found himself drawn into the telling.
He described tracking a cattle thief through the Highlands, following barely visible signs in the wilderness.
The way broken twigs and disturbed leaves told a story as clear as any book to those who knew how to read them.
How he'd followed the trail for three days, through driving rain that threatened to wash away all trace of his quarry.
Sophie leaned forward, completely engrossed. "But how did ye ken which way to go when the rain washed away the tracks?" she asked, her writer's mind clearly cataloging every detail.
"That's where instinct comes in," Kenneth explained, surprised by how easily the words flowed.
"Ye have to think like yer quarry. This man, he was desperate, running scared.
He'd head for familiar ground, somewhere he felt safe.
So, I studied the lay of the land, thought about where I would go if I were him. "
"And ye were right?"
Kenneth nodded. "Found him holed up in an old shepherd's bothy, nae three miles from his own village. The hardest part," he found himself saying, "was learning to trust those instincts. Me faither... he always said I was too weak, too hesitant. Called me a disappointment to the clan's name."
He stopped, realizing he'd said more than he'd intended. But Sophie didn't look at him with pity, as he'd feared. Instead, her eyes held understanding and something warmer.
"Even after I became the best tracker in the clan," he continued, the words spilling out now, "he never acknowledged it. Nothin' I did was ever good enough for him."
"Yer faither was wrong," Sophie said firmly, reaching across the desk to place her hand over his. "Ye're one of the strongest men I ken, Kenneth Elloway. And one of the wisest. A truly weak man wouldnae care so much for his people, wouldnae work so hard to protect them."
The touch of her hand sent sparks through Kenneth's body. He stared at their joined hands, marveling at how small and delicate hers looked against his larger one. When he lifted his gaze to her face, he found her watching him with an intensity that made his breath catch.
"Sophie," he breathed, his voice hoarse. She was so close now, having risen slightly from her chair. He could see the golden flecks in her green eyes, the slight part of her lips. The scent of heather enveloped him, making his head spin. Without conscious thought, he began to lean forward.
The door burst open with a bang, making them both jump. Sophie snatched her hand back as if burned, a bright blush staining her cheeks.
"Ken!" Arabella's voice rang out. "Ye'll never believe what—oh!"
Lachlan appeared behind her, slightly out of breath. "I tried to stop her, me laird," he said, shooting an exasperated look at Arabella. "But ye ken how she is when she's got somethin' in her head."
Kenneth scowled at the interruption, even as Sophie stepped back, putting proper distance between them. "What is it, Arabella?" he growled, his voice rougher than usual.
His sister, however, was looking between him and Sophie with a knowing smile. "Did I interrupt somethin'?" she asked innocently, though her eyes sparkled with mischief.
"Nay," Kenneth said firmly, ignoring the pang in his chest at the hurt that flashed across Sophie's face. "Yer timin' is perfect. Lady Sophie was just leavin'."
Sophie straightened her spine, lifting her chin in that proud way that never failed to captivate him. "Aye, I was," she said, her voice carefully controlled. "Thank ye for the ink, me laird."
Kenneth watched her leave, fighting the urge to call her back. Her scent lingered in the air, a sweet torment that made his fingers itch to pull her close again.
Once she was gone, he turned his glare on his sister. "What was so urgent it couldnae wait for a proper summons?"
But Arabella wasn't cowed by his dark mood. She dropped into the chair Sophie had vacated, arranging her skirts with deliberate care. "Nothin' that cannae wait until ye tell me what I just interrupted," she said, grinning. "I havenae seen ye look at anyone like that since... well, ever."
"Ye interrupted nothin'," Kenneth insisted, though the lingering warmth of Sophie's hand on his said otherwise.
"Och, is that so?" Arabella leaned forward, her expression turning serious. "Then why do ye look like ye want to murder me right now? Face it, brother. Ye're fallin' for her."
"I'm doin' nay such thing," Kenneth growled, shuffling papers on his desk to avoid his sister's knowing gaze. "Now, unless ye have actual business to discuss..."
"Fine, keep yer secrets," Arabella said, rising with a dramatic sigh. "But ye cannae fool me, Kenneth. I saw the way ye were lookin' at her – like she's the sun and ye've been too long in darkness."
He refused to respond, merely giving her a warning look.
"Now, about why I really came," she continued, ignoring his glare and smoothing her skirts. "Ye cannae keep treatin' me like a child, brother. I want to help with the Highland Assembly celebrations."
Kenneth's jaw tightened. "We discussed this at dinner last night—"
"Nay, ye dismissed me at dinner last night," Arabella corrected, her chin lifting in a way that reminded him remarkably of Sophie.
"I'm nae askin' to lead the negotiations.
I just want to help organize the festivities.
The other clans will be bringin' their daughters – it would look strange if yer own sister wasnae involved. "
"Arabella—"
"She has a point," Lachlan interjected from the doorway. "The lass has a good head for these things. And it would show the other clans that the MacAdams women are respected members of the household."
Kenneth ran a hand through his hair, recognizing the political wisdom in their words. "Very well," he conceded. "Ye can help with the preparations. But—"
"Thank ye!" Arabella beamed, cutting off his conditions as she rushed forward to kiss his cheek. "Ye willnae regret this, brother."
After Arabella flounced out, Lachlan lingered in the doorway. "She's nae wrong, ye ken," he said quietly. "Lady Sophie... she's good for ye."
Kenneth didn't respond, and after a moment, Lachlan followed Arabella, closing the door softly behind him.
Alone again, Kenneth turned back to his correspondence, trying to ignore both his sister's words and the memory of how close he'd come to kissing his wife.
He had duties to attend to, a clan to protect.
He couldn't afford to let Sophie breach the walls around his heart, no matter how tempting she might be.
But as he stared at the letters before him, the words blurred together, and all he could think about was the warmth in Sophie's eyes when she'd called him strong. Perhaps, a treacherous voice whispered in his mind, letting her in wouldn't make him weak after all.
Perhaps it would make me stronger.