Thirteen #2
“My brother has always been that way,” Fiona said, adding a hunk of the soap Constance had made to the laundry water. “He sees taking care of everyone as his personal responsibility. As hard as he is on his men, he’s harder on himself.”
That was one of the things Constance admired about him. Gordon was the sort of man she’d learned to respect in America. Resourceful. Fair-minded. Industrious. She’d not seen many of their sort here.
But she wasn’t about to even hint at the depth of her feelings before these women. To do so would make her feel awkward and foolish, especially since nothing could come of it.
Fiona and Grace waited as if they expected her to say something, and Constance had a panicked moment when she feared that perhaps her feelings weren’t as hidden as she’d believed. She lived on pride now, trying to hide her deepening feelings for Gordon.
“He will turn me over for the sword,” she murmured. She looked at the other women. “I’m here for a purpose. I must remember that.”
“Isn’t it peculiar,” Fiona said, as if not speaking to anyone in particular, “how the strongest people are often the most vulnerable when it comes to love?”
Love.
Fiona had said the word…and Constance knew they had guessed her secret.
“Aye, a pity really,” Grace answered.
Constance stared at the water she stirred, both humbled and frightened that they knew. She glanced up to see them both watching her. It made her want to run.
She set the paddle aside. “Do you know what has come of Brian and the ransom note?”
Fiona frowned as if disappointed. “Gordon expects Brian back shortly.”
“So,” Constance said quietly, “my days here are numbered.” A knot tightened in her stomach.
“They don’t have to be,” Grace said. “You can change his mind.”
Constance shot a look at Fiona. Gordon’s sister shrugged, as if to say it was out of her hands.
“I don’t believe I can—” Constance started.
“Of course you can,” Grace said. “You are the bravest woman we know. Lay your soul bare. Let him know.”
“And what of the sword?” Constance asked. “What of the Cause?”
Grace and Fiona exchanged glances but said nothing.
It was the silence that bothered Constance the most. “I’m not a fool,” she said.
“I’ve heard the rumblings that most of the clan would rather stay here and not fight the English.
But you can’t,” she pointed out. “Gordon is right. Sooner or later the soldiers will come. You either build an army or flee. He’ll never run. ”
Fiona picked up the paddle. She studied the wood a moment before saying, “It’s just that I thought you cared for him.”
Constance could have shouted that she did, but she also loved him and knew there was only one course for Gordon, one path.
Besides, they were wrong. She wasn’t brave. She’d never reveal the depth of her feelings for Gordon. What if he didn’t share them? It would crush her.
The subject was dropped. The other two women talked of the weather or gossiped over some bit of camp nonsense as Constance busied herself with the laundry, Fiona and Grace’s words heavy on her mind.
A part of her wanted to lay her soul bare to Gordon. But her pride wouldn’t let her. After all, she was a Cameron. She’d learned the hard way how to hold her head high.
Still, she was anxious to see Gordon, and in the back of her mind, Grace’s words were taking hold.
Unfortunately, he did not make an appearance at supper. Constance overheard Fiona ask after him. One of the men said that he’d struck off on horseback an hour ago. Not even Thomas knew where he was going or to what purpose.
That left Constance alone. Again.
She wondered if he’d left because he received some word from the duke. The thought spoiled her appetite. Later, she paced the confines of the tent. The hour came when she usually went to bed. Instead, she waited, folding and refolding the clothes. Tad watched her as if he, too, worried.
At last Constance couldn’t take it any longer. “Why am I such a fool?” she asked Tad aloud.
The dog wagged his tail, an agreeable grin on his face.
“He can’t love me. He doesn’t have anything to give, not with this rebellion brewing.”
Tad’s response was to come over and nudge one hand with his wet nose.
Constance pushed her hair back with her hand, giving the dog’s head a pat with the other. “It’s not meant to be,” she whispered. “It never was. Grace and Fiona don’t understand, but I do.” She wanted to cry.
Suddenly, the close confines of the tent, of being surrounded by what he owned, threatened to overwhelm her. A Cameron didn’t cry over what couldn’t be changed.
Grabbing the Lachlan tartan she used as a shawl, Constance went outside. The damp night air felt good against her overheated skin. She skirted the edges of the camp, wanting to be alone. Tad trotted at her heels.
She walked in the opposite direction of the Cliffs, where she might run into someone she knew. She skirted past the stables and took the route along the shoreline.
There was a ring around the moon, a sign that the weather would change. Already clouds were drifting across the sky.
She should have brought the lantern with her, she thought. She’d left it burning in the tent. But she was just as happy to move without being seen. Tall firs lined the shore, giving her a sense of being enveloped by nature and the night. Tad left to chase game, his usual routine.
She had to concentrate on where she was going to keep from tripping—and yet, she could not rid her mind of Gordon.
Constance stopped at the edge of a small cove. So this was what it was like to love someone? They consumed your thoughts, your well-being. Such strong emotion could not be healthy. She’d been happier before he came into her life.
She decided that a swim was what she needed. She’d grown up on the edges of the Ohio River. Cold water would clear her mind, and the brazenness of the act would exert her independence.