Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
Eloise’s steps slowed as she followed James into the great hall, her unease rising with every pace. The room felt colder than before, heavier, and her gaze found the lone figure waiting near the center.
“Andrew…” she breathed, her voice barely more than a whisper as recognition struck.
The messenger turned at once, relief washing over his face as he stepped forward. “Miss Eloise,” he said, bowing his head quickly, “I was sent to see ye with me own eyes and deliver a message.”
James moved ahead of her then, placing himself firmly between them, his presence commanding. “State yer business,” he said coolly.
Andrew straightened, glancing between them before answering, “I carry word from Mr. Alastair Whitmore, me Laird.”
James extended his hand without hesitation. “Then give it here,” he said, his tone leaving no room for delay.
Andrew passed over the sealed letter, though his gaze flicked once more to Eloise. “I was also to ensure the lady has nae come to harm,” he added carefully.
James broke the seal with deliberate calm. “As ye can plainly see,” he replied, glancing briefly toward Eloise, “the lady is nae harmed.”
Eloise stepped forward then, her voice steady despite the tension twisting within her. “I am here of me own will, Andrew,” she said, meeting his eyes.
Andrew bowed again, more deeply this time. “Aye, miss, I’m glad to see it so.”
The hall fell quiet as James unfolded the letter, his eyes scanning it once before he began to read aloud. “It has come to me attention that me daughter is being housed at Calibroch Castle,” he said, his voice carrying clearly.
Eloise clasped her hands tightly before her, bracing herself as he continued.
“Rumors of a betrothal to Laird MacAllister has reached us, but nay assurance this is true. I demand that correspondence be made, or return me daughter immediately.”
Eloise let out a quiet breath, her shoulders lowering slightly. “This is me fault,” she said softly, her gaze dropping for a moment.
James folded the letter carefully, his expression unreadable as he looked toward her.
“I should have sent word,” she added, a note of regret slipping through.
He turned his attention back to Andrew. “Ye’ll remain here tonight,” he said, his tone firm and controlled. “Ye’ll be fed and given rest, and on the morrow ye’ll return with a letter from Miss Eloise and one from meself declaring our betrothal to be true.”
Andrew nodded at once, relief evident in his posture. “Thank ye, me Laird, that is most generous.”
Eloise glanced between them, the weight of what must be written settling heavily upon her.
“I’ll write it tonight,” she said quietly, though her voice held resolve beneath the strain.
Andrew stepped back then, allowing space, though his concern lingered in his eyes. “It’s good to see ye safe, miss,” he said gently.
Eloise managed a faint smile in return. “And it’s good to see a familiar face,” she answered, though her thoughts were already turning to the letter she must now write, and the truth she could not fully tell, and the lie she would have to give her family.
Eloise sat at the small table by the window, the candlelight flickering as dusk settled beyond the glass.
The quill felt heavier than it should in her hand, as though each word carried more weight than ink alone.
She hesitated only a moment before pressing it to parchment, her breath steadying as she began.
Dearest Father,
I pray this letter finds ye in good health and spirits.
I must first beg yer forgiveness for the distress I have caused by leaving so suddenly and without word.
It was wrong of me to flee as I did, and I regret the worry I have no doubt placed upon the family.
Yet I wish to assure ye that I am safe, and more than that, I am under the protection of one of the most powerful lairds in all the Highlands.
I am now betrothed to James, Laird MacAllister, and it is by me own will that I remain here at Castle Calibroch.
I ask that ye trust in this decision, though it may come as a surprise.
In time, when the date is set, I shall write again and extend to ye a proper invitation to attend the wedding.
It would bring me comfort to have me family here, and to see that all is as it should be.
Until then, I ask for yer patience and yer understanding, though I ken I have done little to earn it of late.
I remain, as ever, yer daughter, with affection and duty.
Eloise
She stared at the page a moment longer. With careful hands, she folded the parchment and pressed the seal into place, watching as it cooled and hardened.
“There,” she murmured softly, though the word felt hollow. This was what she had chosen, or what she had been forced to choose, and now the world beyond these walls would believe it as truth.
She leaned back slightly, her fingers lingering against the edge of the table. “It feels too real,” she whispered, her voice barely audible in the quiet room.
Her gaze drifted toward the window, the darkening sky pressing in, and unease crept sharp and sudden into her thoughts.
If word has reached me father, then it would reach him as well.
“Drummond…” she breathed, her stomach dropping at the name. The reality struck her all at once, cold and unyielding.
“God help me,” she whispered. “Will he come for me?”
The thought alone was enough to set her moving, her pulse quickening as she gathered her cloak and slipped from the chamber.
James’s study door stood closed, but she did not hesitate, knocking once before pushing it open. He looked up at once, surprise flickering briefly across his face before it settled into something more controlled.
“Entering without waitin'?” he said.
Eloise stepped inside, her expression tight with urgency. “I’ve written the letter,” she said quickly, holding it up slightly. “But that’s nae why I’m here.”
He straightened slightly, his gaze sharpening. “Then speak,” he said.
“Laird Drummond,” she said, the name falling heavy between them. “If word has reached me father, then it will reach him, will it nae?”
James studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable. “Aye,” he said at last, his voice calm. “It likely will.”
Eloise’s breath caught slightly. “Then what happens when he learns I’m here?” she pressed, stepping closer. “Will he come to claim me?”
James rose slowly from his chair, his presence steady and unshaken.
“Drummond kens well enough that me guard is stronger than his, and me numbers greater,” he said, his tone firm with quiet authority. “He’ll nay risk conflict over a betrothal that’s already been announced.”
Eloise searched his face, uncertainty flickering in her eyes. “Ye’re certain?” she asked softly.
He held her gaze. “Aye,” he said. “He’ll accept it and move on to another.”
The words settled something within her, easing the panic that had gripped her chest.
She let out a breath she had not realized she held. “Then I am safe,” she said, more to herself than to him.
“Safer than ye were,” James replied, his voice quieter now.
She glanced up at that, something shifting in her expression. “Ye speak as though I’ve traded one danger for another,” she said, her tone sharpening slightly.
“Ye’ve traded danger for uncertainty. And for me control,” he said. “There’s a difference.”
She stepped closer, her eyes flashing. “Control?” she echoed. “Is that what ye call it, then, this arrangement?”
“It’s what keeps ye alive,” he replied, his voice firm.
She shook her head, frustration rising. “And what if I daenae wish to be managed like one of yer soldiers?” she shot back.
“Ye’re nae a soldier,” he said, stepping closer in turn, his gaze locking with hers. “But ye’ll follow me lead if ye wish this to work.” The space between them narrowed, tension building with each breath.
“And if I daenae?” she challenged softly.
“Then ye risk everythin’ we’ve built,” he said.
She held his gaze, her breath quickening, though she did not step back. “And what exactly have we built, James?”
He did not answer. He stepped closer, just enough that the space between them nearly vanished. “Ye shouldnae look at me like that,” he murmured, though his voice held no true warning.
“Like what?” she whispered.
His hand lifted slightly, hesitating as though unsure whether to bridge the final distance. She felt a shiver as his eyes locked on hers, his hand moving closer to her cheek.
“James?” she whispered, still waiting for an answer.
But he did not respond with words, instead his gaze moved to her lips. Her mouth parted slightly, though she did not intend it to. It was as though she had no control over her body’s own response to him.
Then he leaned in, his mouth coming within inches of hers.
A sharp knock at the door shattered the moment.
“James,” came Callum’s voice from the other side, brisk and unaware, “we’ve need of ye.”
The spell broke at once. Eloise stepped back quickly, her face flushing with sudden heat as she turned away.
“I… I should go,” she said, her voice unsteady. Without waiting for a reply, she moved past him and out the door, leaving the air behind her thick with what had almost happened.
The forest lay quiet beneath a pale morning sky as Eloise walked beside Fiona. Yet Eloise’s thoughts were anything but steady, drifting again and again to the moment in James’s study.
The way he had looked at her, the way the space between them had nearly vanished, it returned unbidden, vivid and unsettling. She felt the warmth rise to her cheeks once more and turned her face slightly away, as though the trees themselves might notice.
“Och, this is foolishness,” she muttered under her breath, though it did little to quiet the memory.
Fiona glanced at her curiously but said nothing at first. “What are we doin’ out here, then?” Fiona asked at last, breaking the silence as they moved deeper into the trees.
Eloise lifted her gaze, her composure returning as she gestured ahead. “Ye’ll see soon enough,” she said lightly, though there was purpose in her tone.
“Ye’ve a way of speakin’ in riddles, miss,” she said with a small smile.
Eloise huffed softly. “Perhaps I’ve spent too much time among Highland lairds,” she replied dryly.
Fiona laughed at that. “Aye, that’ll do it,” she agreed.
They walked on, the path narrowing as the forest thickened around them.
“And how are ye settlin’, truly?” she asked, her tone softer now.
Eloise slowed slightly at the question, her thoughts turning inward despite herself. She had expected fear, discomfort, a sense of being trapped, but instead she had found warmth, laughter, and something far more dangerous…the Laird MacAllister.
Her mind drifted again to James, to his sharp words and steady presence, and the way she now found herself anticipating his company. The realization struck her with quiet force, and she frowned slightly at it.
“I’m settlin’ well enough,” she said at last, her voice measured.
Fiona nodded, clearly pleased by the answer. “That’s good,” she said, her smile brightening. “Since it’ll be yer home for the rest of yer days.”
The words landed heavier than they should have, and Eloise’s steps faltered for just a moment. She forced herself to keep moving, though a faint unease crept in beneath her calm.
This lie sits bitter on me tongue, sharper now than before. These people have shown kindness, have welcomed me without question, and I repay them with deception.
“Aye,” she said quietly, her voice softer than before, “forever.”
Fiona did not seem to notice the shift, though Eloise felt it keenly.
They walked in silence for a time, until a faint fluttering sound reached them from the brush nearby.
Eloise stopped at once. “Do ye hear that?” she asked quietly.
Fiona frowned, stepping closer. “Aye… somethin’s caught,” she said, her gaze scanning the undergrowth.
Together they pushed through the brush until they found it, a small thrush tangled in a hidden snare, its wings beating frantically against the cord.
“Och, poor thing,” Fiona murmured.
Eloise crouched immediately, her hands already reaching toward the trap.
“Careful,” Fiona warned, glancing around. “That’s likely set by one of the hunters, James willnae be pleased if it’s tampered with.”
Eloise did not stop, her fingers working quickly but gently to loosen the cord. “I cannae leave it,” she said firmly. The bird struggled, its tiny body trembling with fear, and Eloise’s brow furrowed with focus.
The snare loosened at last, and with careful hands, Eloise freed the bird from its trap. It sat for a moment in her palms, trembling, its small heart racing beneath her fingers.
“There now,” she whispered, her voice gentler. “Ye’re free.”
She opened her hands slowly, and the thrush hesitated, as though uncertain whether to trust the freedom offered. Then, with a sudden burst, it took flight, disappearing into the trees above. Eloise watched it go.
“I'm going to loosen all the snares,” Eloise said.
“The Laird will be furious,” Fiona said, though her tone held more concern than reprimand.
Eloise rose slowly, brushing the dirt from her hands. “Then he’ll be furious,” she said simply, though her gaze remained on the place where the bird had vanished.
Fiona studied her for a moment, then gave a small, thoughtful nod. “Ye’ve a kind heart,” she said. “That can be a dangerous thing in a place like this.”
Eloise let out a faint breath, her lips curving slightly. “So I’m beginnin’ to learn,” she replied.
They began to walk again, though more slowly now, searching for snares.
Eloise’s thoughts turned inward once more, the image of the bird replaying in her mind.
It had hesitated, uncertain, even after the snare was gone, as though it feared another unseen trap.
She understood that feeling more than she cared to admit.
“Freedom is a strange thing,” she murmured quietly, almost to herself.
Fiona glanced at her but did not press. “Aye,” she said simply, “it is.”