Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
"Where are we going?"
"Ye'll see."
The ride took them north, away from the castle and into the wild heart of the Highlands.
David kept the pace easy, letting the grey stallion find its own rhythm as they climbed the gentle slope. Behind him—or rather, in front of him, tucked securely in his arms—Elinor sat rigid at first, her spine straight as a sword.
But gradually, as the castle fell away behind them and the landscape opened up before them, he felt her begin to relax.
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only answer ye're gettin'." He urged the horse up a steeper section of the path, his arms tightening around her to keep her secure. "Patience, lass."
"I'm not known for my patience."
"I've noticed."
The path wound through a stretch of forest where autumn had painted the leaves in shades of amber and rust. Then the trees thinned, and they emerged onto open moorland, the ground carpeted in purple heather that stretched as far as the eye could see.
David felt Elinor's breath catch.
"It's beautiful," she whispered.
"Aye. Just wait."
They climbed higher, the heather giving way to rougher ground dotted with grey stone and hardy shrubs. The wind picked up, carrying the scent of wildflowers and pine and something indefinably Highland, clean and wild and ancient.
Elinor's hair had come loose from its pins, strands whipping around her face. She reached up to tuck them back, but David caught her hand.
"Leave it," he said quietly. "It looks bonnie like that."
She didn't argue, just let her hand fall back to her lap, and David tried very hard not to think about how natural this felt—the two of them on horseback, her body fitting perfectly against his, the Highland wind in their faces.
That was dangerous territory. The kind that led to wanting things he had no right to want.
But he couldn't seem to make himself care.
Finally, they crested the ridge, and David drew the horse to a stop.
Below them, the valley spread out in a patchwork of greens and golds, bisected by a silver ribbon of river that caught the afternoon sun.
He could see Keppoch, its grey stone walls and proud towers standing sentinel over the surrounding lands. And beyond that, more valleys, more mountains, stretching toward the horizon in endless waves.
His lands. His responsibility. His home.
And now, hers too.
"Oh," Elinor breathed. "Oh, David."
He said nothing, just let her look. Let her see what he saw, the beauty and the wildness and the fierce pride that came with being part of that place.
"I used tae come here as a lad," he said finally. "When things got... difficult. When the weight of learnin' tae be laird felt like too much." He pointed to a flat rock jutting out from the ridge. "That was me favorite spot. I'd sit there fer hours, just watchin' the valley. Thinkin'."
"What did you think about?"
"Everythin'. Naethin'. Mostly I just tried tae remember that the world was bigger than whatever problem was clawin' at me that day." He dismounted, then reached up to lift her down. "Come on. Ye should see it properly."
Her hands settled on his shoulders as he lowered her to the ground, and for a moment they stood there, close enough that he could count the freckles across her nose.
He led her to his old lookout point, his hand finding the small of her back automatically. The gesture was becoming habit—touching her, guiding her, making sure she was safe.
Dangerous habits, all of them.
They settled on the flat rock, their legs dangling over the edge, and David watched Elinor's face as she took in the full sweep of the valley. The wind caught her hair, sending it streaming behind her like a banner, and the afternoon sun turned her pale skin golden.
She looked like she belonged there. Like she'd always belonged there.
"I've never seen anything like this," Elinor said, her voice full of wonder. "In England, everything was so... contained. Ordered. Even the countryside felt tame somehow." She gestured at the wild expanse before them. "This is different. This is..."
"Free," David finished quietly.
"Yes." She turned to look at him, and something in her expression made his chest tighten. "Free."
They sat in comfortable silence for a while, letting the wind and the view speak for them.
Below, the horse grazed on the sparse grass, its reins tied loosely to a low shrub. A bird of prey circled overhead—a golden eagle, David thought, though it was too far away to be certain.
"Tell me about growing up here," Elinor said suddenly. "What was it like?"
"Loud. Chaotic." David smiled at the memories. "Me faither was always entertainin' someone. Clan chiefs, English nobles, merchants from Edinburgh. The castle was always full of people and noise and life."
"You miss it."
It wasn't a question, but he answered anyway.
"Aye. I dae." He picked up a small stone, turning it over in his fingers.
"Me maither also loved havin' guests. She said a castle should feel like a home, nae a fortress.
So she made sure there was always music and laughter and good food.
" He tossed the stone, watching it arc through the air.
"When she went, all that stopped. Me uncle. .. he had different priorities."
Elinor's hand found his, squeezing gently. "I'm sorry."
"It was a long time ago."
"That daesnae make it hurt less."
No. No, it didn't.
David looked down at their joined hands, at the way her smaller fingers laced through his. He knew he should pull away—touching in private was against the rules she'd demanded. But that didn't feel like breaking rules. It felt like something else entirely.
"What about ye?" he asked, deflecting before the conversation could go deeper. "What was yer childhood like?"
Elinor's expression shuttered immediately, and David cursed himself for pushing. But after a moment, she spoke.
"Quiet. Very quiet." She stared out at the valley, her voice distant. "My father didn't like noise. Or laughter. Or anything that might suggest someone in his house was enjoying themselves." She paused. "My mother tried, at first. To make things... softer. But he broke that out of her eventually."
"Elinor."
"I wasn't allowed to leave the estate grounds.
Ever." The words came faster now, as though she needed to get them out before she lost her courage.
"As always, Father said it was for my safety, but really it was about control.
He needed to know where I was every moment.
What I was doing. Who I was talking to."
David's jaw clenched. "That's nae safety. That's imprisonment."
"I know that now. But then?" She shrugged. "Then I just thought that was how fathers were. How life was." She turned to look at him. "I'd never seen the sea. Never go to London, despite living only two days' ride away. Never attend a festival or a market day or even a neighbor's dinner party."
"What did ye dae? All those years locked in that house?"
"I read. When I could sneak books from Father's library without him noticing." A bitter smile crossed her face. "And I learned to be invisible. To move through rooms without drawing attention. To gauge his moods and adjust accordingly. To survive."
The casual way she said it made David want to ride back to England and show Lord Thomas Royse exactly what happened to men who caged their daughters like animals.
"Food was another method of control," Elinor continued quietly. "Not obvious starvation. Just... never quite enough. Always being hungry. Always aware that whether I ate or not depended entirely on his mood and whether I'd pleased him that day."
"It wasnae yer fault." David's free hand came up to cup her face, turning her fully toward him. "None of it was yer fault. Ye ken that, aye?"
"I'm starting to." She leaned into his touch, just slightly. "Being here, seeing this—" she gestured at the valley "—it makes me realize how small my world was. How much I was denied."
"Ye'll never be denied again." The words came out fierce, almost violent. "I swear it, Elinor. As long as ye're me wife, as long as I'm alive, ye'll never want fer food or freedom or anythin' else."
"You can't promise that."
"I can. And I am." He held her gaze, making sure she saw the truth in his eyes. "Ye're nae yer faither's daughter anymore. Ye're Lady MacDonald. And nay one—nay one—controls ye but yerself."
Tears spilled over then, tracking down her cheeks. David wiped them away with his thumb, his heart breaking for the girl she'd been and the woman she was becoming.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I don't usually cry like this."
"Dinnae apologize." He pulled her against his chest, wrapping his arms around her. "Cry if ye need tae. Scream if ye want. Ye've earned it."
She didn't scream. But she did cry, silently, her body shaking with the force of emotions too long suppressed. And David held her through it, his chin resting on top of her head, his hands steady on her back.
The horses grazed below. The wind whispered through the heather. And slowly, gradually, Elinor's tears subsided.
"Better?" he asked quietly.
"Maybe." She pulled back, wiping at her face with her sleeve. "I've made your shirt wet."
"Aye, well." He tilted his head. "Though ye seemed to enjoy the view earlier," he teased.
Color flooded her face.
"Ye absolutely did." He grinned at her outrage.
He stood, offering her his hand. "Come on. We should head back. Ye've got a celebration tae prepare fer."
"I thought everything was already prepared."
"It is. But ye still need tae get yerself ready." He pulled her to her feet. "And I'm guessin' that takes some time."
"Are you saying I need a lot of work to look presentable?"
"Nay.” He said it easily, matter-of-factly, and watched her flush deepen. "Now come on. Before ye think of more reasons tae argue with me."
They mounted the horse again, this time with Elinor more relaxed in his arms. She leaned back against his chest without prompting, her body fitting perfectly into the space he made for her.
"David?"
"Aye?"
"Thank you. For—" She gestured at the valley behind them. "For everything."
"Ye're welcome." He pressed a kiss to the top of her head before he could think better of it. "Anytime ye need to escape, to breathe, ye tell me. We'll come back here. Or somewhere else. Wherever ye want."
"What if I just want to escape the castle for an afternoon? No particular destination?"
"Then we'll ride. Nay questions asked."
"I'm starting to think I might actually like it here."
"Just startin' tae think?"
"Don't push your luck."
He laughed, the sound carrying across the moorland. And as they rode back toward Keppoch, David allowed himself to hope, just a little, that maybe this marriage of convenience was becoming something more.
Something real.
They crested the final rise, and Keppoch came into view.
Only it wasn't the quiet castle they'd left behind. The grounds were alive with activity—people streaming through the gates, carts laden with food and drink, children running between the adults, their laughter carrying on the wind.
"Oh my God," Elinor breathed. "Is that…"
"The clan," David finished. "Come tae celebrate our marriage."
He felt her tense in his arms. "There are so many of them."
"Aye. Clan gatherings tend tae draw a crowd." He urged the horse forward. "Ye did say ye wanted the celebration tae be perfect. Well, they're here tae make sure it is."
"I thought it would just be the castle residents and the important families."
"In the Highlands, everyone's important." He squeezed her waist gently. "And everyone wants tae meet their new lady."
He drew the horse to a stop at the edge of the crowd, dismounting before lifting Elinor down.
Before she could answer, a group of children spotted them. A little girl broke away from her mother, running toward them with a handful of heather.
"Me lady! Me lady!" She skidded to a stop in front of Elinor, breathless and beaming. "These are fer ye! Fer luck!"
Elinor knelt down, accepting the purple flowers with a smile that transformed her face. "Thank you. They're beautiful. What's your name?"
"Fiona, me lady."
"Well, Fiona, these is the prettiest heather I've ever seen." Elinor tucked one stem behind her own ear, then did the same for the girl. "Now we match."
The child's squeal of delight drew more children, and soon Elinor was surrounded by little ones, all offering flowers or ribbons or shy smiles.
And she handled them with the same patience David had seen her show in the kitchen—kneeling to their level, remembering names, making each child feel special.
David stood back, watching, his chest tight with something he couldn't quite name.
Malcolm appeared at his elbow, looking harried. "Thank God ye're both back. The musicians arrived early and are arguin' about where tae set up. And there's some question about the wine. And Fergus is already deep in his cups despite the celebration nae even havin' started yet."
David dragged his attention away from Elinor. "I'll handle it. Give me ten minutes tae clean up."
Malcolm followed his gaze to where Elinor was now wearing a crown of heather woven by enthusiastic children. "She's a natural with them."
"Aye. She is."
He clapped David on the shoulder. "Now go get cleaned up. And tell yer wife tae dae the same. Ye've got a celebration tae host."
David nodded, then made his way through the growing crowd toward Elinor. She looked up as he approached, her eyes bright with something like joy, her hair full of purple flowers.
"I think they like me," she said, wonder in her voice.
"I told ye they would." He offered his hand. "Come on, lass. We need tae get ready. The celebration starts at sunset."
She took his hand, letting him pull her to her feet. The children scattered with giggles and promises to save Lady Elinor a dance later.