Chapter 16 #2
“I hadn’t realized it was so… bleak before.”
“Bleak is the right word for it, Me Lady. A castle full of people, but empty all the same. So please, daenae apologize for bringin’ noise and chaos. It’s exactly what this place needed.”
Francesca’s heart clenched. No wonder Declan was so afraid of feeling, of caring. He’d watched love destroy the man who should have been his example of strength.
“The clan must have been worried,” she ventured. “Having such a young laird.”
“Worried? Aye, some were. But Declan proved himself quick enough. Strong, decisive, willin’ to make the hard choices.” Krista rinsed the soap from Francesca’s hair. “Perhaps too willin’, some might say. He carries the clan’s troubles like they’re his alone to bear.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean he doesnae share the burden, Me Lady. Keeps everythin’ locked tight inside himself. Fraser tries to get him to ease up, but our Laird is stubborn as Highland granite.” Krista reached for a towel. “Though I’ll say this, since ye arrived, I’ve seen him smile more than I have in years.”
“You have?” The observation made warmth bloom in Francesca’s chest.
“Aye. Small smiles, mind ye. He’s nae the type for grand displays. But they’re there.” Krista helped her from the tub and wrapped her in the towel. “The wee lass has brought somethin’ soft out in him too. Somethin’ he’s been hidin’ since his father died.”
Francesca stood still while Krista helped her into her nightdress and robe. “What do the clan think of me? Truly?”
“They think ye’re kind. Strong in yer own way. Good with the child.” Krista began brushing out Francesca’s wet hair. “And they’re grateful ye seem to be makin’ the Laird happy.”
“I’m not sure I’m making him happy. Half the time, I think I’m driving him to distraction.”
“Aye, well.” Krista’s eyes sparkled with mischief in the mirror. “Sometimes that’s the same thing, isnae it?”
Before Francesca could respond, Krista continued with a conspiratorial tone. “Between ye and me, Me Lady, ye got the finest catch in all the Highlands.”
“Krista!”
“What? It’s true! Have ye seen the other lairds?
Old MacKenzie is twice yer age and half as tall as his own wife.
Young Finlay is handsome enough, but daft as a post. And daenae even get me started on the Campbell—he’s got the personality of wet wool.
” She leaned closer. “But our laird? Now there’s a man built like a mountain and sharp as a blade.
Those eyes alone could make a woman forget her own name. ”
“Krista, that’s highly inappropriate.”
“Is it inappropriate if it’s true?” The maid grinned unrepentantly.
Francesca’s cheeks burned. “You’re very observant.”
“I’m a maid, Me Lady. Being observant is half the job.
” Krista finished with her hair and stepped back to admire her work.
“The other half is knowin’ when to speak and when to keep silent.
And right now, I’m telling ye what I see—a man and woman who want each other but are too busy fightin’ themselves to just admit it. ”
“It’s complicated.”
“Love usually is.” Krista began tidying up. “But that doesnae mean it’s nae worth fightin’ for.”
“Who said anything about love?”
“Nobody. Yet.” Krista paused at the door. “But mark me words, Me Lady. The way that man looks at ye? That’s nae just duty. That’s nae just wantin’ an heir. That’s a man who’s fallin’ whether he knows it or nae.”
After Krista left, Francesca sat at her dressing table, staring at her reflection. Her cheeks were still flushed, her eyes bright with something she was afraid to name.
The thought was terrifying and exhilarating in equal measure. Because if they were both falling, if this was becoming something more than a marriage of convenience, then everything became more complicated.
She touched her lips, remembering the heat of his mouth, the desperate edge to his kiss. Whatever walls he’d built around his heart, they were crumbling. She could feel it in the way he touched her, see it in the way he looked at Eloise.
The question was whether he’d let them fall completely or whether he’d rebuild them higher and stronger than before.
A soft knock made her turn. “Come in.”
Betsy poked her head through the door. “Just checkin’ ye had everythin’ ye needed, Me Lady. Eloise is settled and already half-asleep.”
“Thank you, Betsy. I’m fine.”
“Good.” The maid hesitated. “If I may say so, Me Lady, ye look happy tonight. Happier than I’ve seen ye since ye arrived.”
“Do I?”
“Aye. Like a woman who’s found somethin’ she’d been searchin’ for even when she did not ken that she was lookin’.” Betsy smiled warmly. “It suits ye.”
After Betsy withdrew, Francesca returned to her reflection.
Happy. Me?
She did feel happy, despite the confusion and uncertainty.
Despite Declan’s walls and her own fears.
Because for the first time in her life, she felt like she might actually belong here.
Like this cold stone castle might become a home.
Like the brooding laird and his loyal clan might become her family.
She climbed into bed, knowing sleep would be elusive. She knew the truth—nothing about Declan would ever be clear or simple or easy.
And somehow, that made her want him even more.