Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The next morning felt different.
Elaina noticed it the moment she stepped into the courtyard, though nothing had truly changed. The sky was the same pale gray-blue of early morning, the air crisp with the promise of another long day, but something between them had shifted, quiet and unspoken.
She saw him before he spoke. Duncan stood near the horses, already prepared and already composed, as if the night before had not unraveled something between them. Yet when his eyes found hers, there was a flicker there, something that stole her breath away.
“Are ye ready?” he asked. As always, his voice was grounded.
Elaina nodded, adjusting her cloak more out of habit than necessity. “Aye.”
They walked side by side toward the horses, their shoulders almost brushing, but neither daring to close the distance nor widen it.
Elaina was acutely aware of him, of the warmth of his presence and of the way his hand hovered for the briefest moment near her waist as he helped her mount, as if he had to remind himself not to linger.
Their eyes met again. A small smile tugged at his lips. She returned it before she could stop herself.
And just like that, the silence between them filled not with words, but with something unspoken, something that lingered in every glance, every fleeting touch and every breath shared too closely.
The ride into the village passed quietly. Elaina kept her gaze forward, but she could feel his attention on her, just as hers betrayed her more than once. She caught herself looking at him when she thought he wouldn’t notice, only to find his eyes already on her.
Each time, one of them would look away first. Each time, a small smile followed. It should have felt awkward. Instead, it felt… delicate, as if they were both afraid that speaking too much might break whatever had begun to form between them.
The market was already alive when they arrived.
Voices overlapped in a constant hum of merchants calling out their wares and villagers bartering. The shuffle of movement was weaving through narrow paths between stalls. The scent of fresh bread, herbs, and livestock filled the air, grounding Elaina in the familiarity of her purpose.
For a moment, she almost forgot everything else. Duncan helped her down from the horse and she could feel his hands firm at her waist, lingering just a heartbeat longer than necessary.
Her breath hitched. When she looked up at him, he was already watching her. She could see that same tenderness in his eyes, and then, just a moment later, it was gone.
“Ye’ll be escorted,” he said, and his tone was more distant now, more… laird than man.
Elaina felt it immediately. The space between them returned. Before she could question it, he gestured toward one of his guards, who stepped forward and took position beside her.
“There are things I need tae look intae,” Duncan continued. His voice was calm and reassuring, but she could sense a slight tension in there. “Ye are safe here. Ye’ll well protected.”
Elaina’s fingers curled slightly at her sides. She nodded, because that was the only thing she could do. She had secretly been hoping that he would be by her side during her walk through the market, and her heart fluttered at the very thought. However, she understood his obligations.
“Of course.”
He studied her for a moment, as if searching her face for something, perhaps hesitation, perhaps protest. She offered him neither, exactly because she understood. He was not just Duncan. He was a laird. And lairds did not have the luxury of lingering in moments like this.
“I willnae be long,” he added more softly now.
That softness nearly undid her.
“I ken,” she replied quietly.
Elaina wanted to ask him to stay, only the words never came, because she knew better.
Duncan gave a small nod, as if acknowledging something unspoken between them. Then he turned and walked away. Elaina watched him go and told herself she was not disappointed. And yet, her gaze lingered longer than it should have.
Only when he disappeared into the crowd did she finally turn back to the stall before her, forcing her attention onto the neatly folded fabrics displayed in soft shades of cream, blue, and muted green.
She exhaled slowly, steadying herself. This was why she had come, not to watch him walk away and not to linger in thoughts that made her chest ache in ways she did not yet understand.
Work. Purpose. Control.
The merchant started speaking, holding up a length of soft linen and praising its quality, but Elaina only half listened. She ran her fingers over the fabric, appreciating the weave and the durability, anything to anchor her thoughts somewhere practical.
“It would make fine bandages,” she murmured more to herself than to him.
“Aye, me lady,” the man replied eagerly. “Strong, but gentle enough fer the skin. I can give ye a fair price fer a full bundle.”
She nodded, selecting a few pieces before offering her thanks and moving on, with the guard remaining a silent presence at her side.
The market stretched before her in winding rows of stalls, each one filled with life and color.
Normally, she would have welcomed the distraction, the movement, the anonymity, but today she didn’t enjoy it nearly as much as she had hoped she would.
Her gaze flickered once, almost instinctively, in the direction Duncan had gone. He was gone.
Of course he was.
Elaina straightened her shoulders and forced herself forward.
It did not take long for her to find what she truly needed.
The healer’s stall was tucked slightly away from the louder vendors, its display more modest but far more familiar to her.
Bundles of dried herbs hung from a wooden frame, their scents mingling in the air: lavender, yarrow, sage, and others.
Something in her eased the moment she stepped closer. This was hers, not the politics and the uncertainty that seemed to follow her wherever she went. This was something she understood.
The stall keeper, an older woman with kind eyes and weathered hands, looked up as Elaina approached.
“Well now,” she said warmly, a small smile forming on her lips. “Ye have the look of someone who kens what she’s searching fer.”
Elaina returned the smile. “I dae.”
“Then ye’ll nae be needing me persuasion,” the woman chuckled, stepping aside slightly. “Have a look. Everything’s fresh and properly dried. I gather most of it meself.”
Elaina’s fingers moved instinctively, brushing over the bundles, lifting a few to inspect them more closely. She checked their color, their scent, the texture of the leaves between her fingertips.
“Yarrow,” she said softly, more to herself than anything else. “Good quality.”
“Aye,” the woman replied, pleased. “Ye’ve a practiced eye.”
“Me maither taught me,” Elaina said, before she could stop herself.
The words lingered between them for a moment.
The woman’s expression softened. “Then she taught ye well.”
Elaina swallowed lightly but nodded, focusing back on the herbs before her. She selected a few bundles of yarrow, chamomile and a small pouch of dried willow bark, and set them aside.
“Ye’ll be wanting this, too,” the woman added, reaching for a jar and placing it gently on the table. “Ground comfrey root. Hard tae come by lately.”
Elaina’s brows lifted slightly in surprise as she opened it, inhaling the familiar scent. “This is excellent.”
“I thought ye might say so.”
A small smile curved Elaina’s lips. “Ye were right.”
The conversation came easily after that.
They spoke of remedies, of mixtures and methods, of what worked and what did not.
The woman shared small tricks she had learned over the years, and Elaina found herself doing the same in return, forgetting, if only for a moment, everything beyond the stall.
She laughed once, quietly, when the woman made a remark about stubborn patients and the impossibility of forcing them to rest.
“It is always the worst wounds that belong tae the most difficult men,” Elaina said before she could think better of it.
The woman laughed in agreement. “Aye, and they all think themselves invincible.”
Elaina’s smile lingered, though her thoughts betrayed her again.
Duncan.
She quickly turned her attention back to the items in front of her, gathering what she needed.
“Ye’ve been a great help,” she said sincerely.
“And ye’ve been pleasant company,” the woman replied. “Nae many come by who ken their herbs better than I dae. It’s refreshing.”
Elaina inclined her head. “The feeling is mutual.”
She reached into her pouch and placed the coins into the woman’s outstretched hand, offering one last grateful smile as she gathered the bundles of herbs.
And then, a scream cut through the air. It was sharp and panicked. It was wrong.
Elaina froze. The sound seemed to ripple through the market, breaking through the hum of voices like a blade. Another shout followed, then another, until the noise around them shifted from lively chatter into something fractured and uncertain.
Her head turned instinctively toward the source. That was when she smelled it.
Smoke.
It was faint at first, then it became stronger. Her body reacted before her mind could catch up. She stepped away from the stall, with her heart quickening and her eyes watching the crowd as people began to turn, to murmur, to move in restless confusion.
“I need to…” she started, though she wasn’t entirely sure what she intended to do.
Help. Assess. Something. Anything.
She took another step forward and a solid figure moved in front of her. It was the guard.
“Me lady,” he said firmly, blocking her path.
“There are people,” Elaina tried, attempting to move around him, but he shifted just as quickly, cutting her off again.
“Ye are tae remain here.” His voice was calm.
“I can help,” she insisted, frustration rising sharply now. “If someone is hurt—”
“I have orders tae keep ye safe,” he reminded her.
The noise around them was growing louder now. There were shouts, the crackle of something catching fire and the unmistakable swell of panic as people began to scatter. Still, the guard did not move and he stood directly in her path.
Only, he wasn’t looking at the fire. He wasn’t looking at the people running. He was focused on her.
“I need tae go,” she said again.
She tried to step past him once more. This time, he did not just block her. He stepped closer, close enough that she could not move without brushing against him.
And then, through the shifting chaos of the market, two men emerged. Contrary to everyone else around them, they weren’t running. They didn’t seem panicked. Worst of all, they moved with purpose, toward her.
Then, her breath caught because she realized that they weren’t moving just toward her, but for her. Every instinct within her sharpened at once. Her fingers tightened around the herbs she still held as her pulse began to thunder in her ears.
Panic surged, but she forced it down, forcing her mind to think, to react.
“Duncan!” she shouted, her voice breaking free, louder than she intended.
The two men reached her. One of them grabbed her arm.
“Nay!” she gasped, fighting harder now, her heart racing and her breath coming too fast.
“Easy now,” the man muttered, tightening his hold. “Wouldnae want tae make this harder than it needs tae be.”
“I said let go of me!” she snapped, trying to drive her knee forward, to twist her body, to do anything, but they were stronger.
The guard stepped aside, letting them take her. Rage flared through her fear.
“Ye traitor—” she began, but the words were cut short as one of the men yanked her forward.
The smoke thickened, curling through the air as more people began to run, to scream, to push past one another in blind panic, but none of it mattered.
Only the fact that she needed him and he wasn’t there.