Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
Eloise stood there a moment, unmoving, as though if she shifted even slightly, everything inside her would spill over. The echo of James’s touch lingered, impossible to ignore, burning beneath her skin.
“What have I done?” she whispered.
Her composure fractured quietly, and she pressed her hand to her mouth to steady herself. When the tears came, they were silent at first, then harder to hold back.
She sank onto the edge of the bed.
This was meant to be an arrangement. A means to an end. Now I feel I have made a mistake in agreeing to this. It is too much of a mess..
“It was never meant to feel like this,” she murmured, her voice trembling.
She cried because she wanted clarity, honesty, something solid beneath her feet. She wanted her family. Instead, everything around her felt built on shifting ground, on half-truths and unspoken things.
I miss me family. Someone to talk to about all of this.
A sudden, aching intensity tore through her. Not just their presence, but the certainty of being known without question.
A soft knock came at the door, followed by Fiona’s gentle voice.
“Miss Eloise? I’ve brought ye some tea.”
Eloise quickly wiped at her cheeks, though the evidence of her tears could not be fully hidden.
“Come in,” she said, her voice quieter than usual.
Fiona stepped inside, balancing a small tray, but she stopped short when she saw Eloise’s face.
“Oh, miss,” she said softly, setting the tray aside. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothin',” she said at first, though the word rang hollow even to her own ears.
Fiona frowned slightly, stepping closer. “That doesnae look like nothing,” she said gently.
Eloise let out a shaky breath, her composure slipping again. “I daenae ken what I’m feelin’,” she admitted quietly.
Fiona’s expression softened immediately. “Then tell me what ye do ken,” she said, sitting beside her.
Eloise stared at the floor, gathering her thoughts. “I thought being here would be simple,” she began. “Somethin' I could manage.”
Fiona nodded slowly. “And now?” she asked.
Eloise swallowed. “Now it feels… tangled,” she said.
Fiona tilted her head. “Is it the Laird?” she asked carefully.
Eloise let out a small, humorless laugh. “Aye,” she said. “It’s him, or it's me confusion toward him and all of this. ”
Fiona smiled faintly, though there was sympathy in it. “That doesnae sound so terrible,” she said.
Eloise shook her head quickly. “It is when ye daenae trust yourself,” she replied. “When ye daenae ken if what ye feel is real, or just… born of circumstance.”
Fiona considered that for a moment. “And what do ye feel?” she asked.
Eloise hesitated, then looked away. “Too much,” she admitted. “And none of it makes sense.”
Fiona reached out, placing a gentle hand over hers. “Feelin's rarely do,” she said softly.
Eloise’s eyes filled again, though she blinked the tears back. “And I feel so alone. I miss me family,” she said suddenly.
Fiona squeezed her hand lightly. “Then bring them here,” she said.
Eloise blinked, surprised. “What?” she asked.
“There’s plenty of room in this castle,” Fiona continued. “And if ye miss them, then why should ye stay without them?”
Eloise frowned slightly. “It isnae that simple,” she said.
Fiona smiled gently. “Most things are simpler than we make them,” she replied. “Invite them. Let them see ye safe and settled.”
Eloise’s thoughts shifted at that, something taking shape where before there had only been confusion.
“Beatrice,” she said softly, almost to herself.
Fiona tilted her head. “Yer cousin, is it nae? I remember ye said…”
“Aye… she would come, if I asked her to,” Eloise said. “She would bring laughter and… remind me who I am.”
Fiona smiled wider. “Then write to her,” she said.
Eloise hesitated only a moment longer before nodding.
It was not just about comfort, though she would not say that aloud.
If Beatrice came, and saw her beside James, then the illusion would strengthen.
The engagement would seem real not just within these walls, but beyond them.
And perhaps, just perhaps, it would be enough to keep Laird Drummond from pressing his claim on her. The thought steadied her slightly.
“Aye,” she said, more firmly now. “I will invite her.”
Fiona squeezed her hand once more before standing. “That’s a start,” she said warmly.
Eloise nodded, though her chest still felt heavy.
As Fiona moved to pour the tea, Eloise wiped the last of her tears and straightened her shoulders.
Nothing about this was simple, and nothing about James was safe, not in the way she had once believed.
But for the first time since the door had closed behind him, she felt as though she had taken a step forward rather than standing lost in place.
The next day, Eloise sat at the table, the morning light soft against the parchment as she dipped her quill in ink. She hesitated only a moment before beginning, her thoughts clearer now than they had been the night before.
Dearest Beatrice,
I hope this letter finds ye well. I would have ye come to Calibroch castle as soon as ye are able, for I find myself in need of familiar company and honest laughter.
Ye will see with yer own eyes that I am safe and well cared for, and I would very much like ye to meet Laird MacAllister. There is much I cannae write plainly, but I trust ye will understand more when ye are here.
Please come soon, cousin, for I miss ye dearly and would have a piece of home beside me again.
Yers always,
Eloise.
She read it once through, then sealed it before doubt could creep in.
“That will do,” she murmured quietly.
She found the castle messenger near the outer courtyard, a young man preparing his satchel for the day’s ride.
“I’ve a letter to be sent to me family at Whitmore house,” she said, holding it out.
He bowed slightly. “Aye, Miss,” he said, taking it with care. “It will be delivered swift as the roads allow.”
Eloise nodded her thanks and watched as he tucked it safely away. As she turned to leave, her thoughts began to churn again, quieter but no less persistent. The betrothal was a transaction, she reminded herself of that firmly.
Protection, strategy, survival.
And yet, no matter how often she repeated it, it did nothing to quiet the memory of James’s touch, the weight of his presence, the way her breath still caught when she thought of his kiss.
“It means nothing,” she said under her breath, though even she did not sound convinced.
She walked the corridors slowly, her fingers trailing along the cool stone as her mind circled the same thoughts.
If she allowed herself to believe there was something more, something real, then she risked everything.
Not just her safety, but her sense of self.
She had seen what came of women who placed their hopes in men who held power over them. She would not become one of them.
“It will end,” she reminded herself quietly. “And I will walk away from it whole.”
Yet the certainty she tried to summon felt thinner than it should have.
She made her way to the library. The room was still, lined with shelves of worn leather-bound volumes, the scent of parchment and dust lingering in the air.
She had expected solitude, but instead she found a woman already there, standing near one of the windows with a book in hand.
The woman was striking, blonde hair pulled neatly back, blue eyes sharp despite the softness of her features.
She turned as Eloise entered, her expression composed but curious. “Oh, good day,” the woman said, her tone light but measured.
Eloise slowed slightly. “Good day,” she replied.
The woman stepped forward, closing her book.
“Mairead of Clan Cameron,” she said, offering a polite nod.
Eloise froze for half a heartbeat, recognition striking her instantly.
That is the name that had been carried through whispers and glances that first night in the great hall.
She had not known the face that belonged to it until now.
“Eloise Whitmore,” she said, recovering quickly.
Mairead’s smile widened slightly. “Aye,” she said. “Ye are the Laird’s betrothed.”
Eloise held her gaze. “Aye, I am,” she answered.
There was a pause then, one that stretched just a fraction too long. Mairead’s smile remained, but it did not reach her eyes.
“I had wondered when we would meet,” she said lightly.
Eloise tilted her head slightly. “I didnae realize ye were waitin',” she replied.
Mairead gave a soft laugh. “In a place like this, everyone is waitin' for somethin'. Even meself,” she said.
Eloise watched as Mairead's demeanor shifted to a forlorn look as she looked out the window. Then she shifted back to Eloise with a smile.
“But I have heard so much about ye and it is good to finally meet ye proper.”
Eloise stepped further into the room, her posture steady. “And what do they say about me?” she asked.
Mairead’s gaze sharpened just slightly. “That ye came from nowhere,” she said. “And claimed a place that has long been expected to belong to another.”
The words were gentle, but the meaning beneath them was not.
Eloise did not flinch. “Expected?” she repeated.
Mairead’s smile faltered just a fraction.
“Expectations can carry weight,” Mairead said. “Particularly when they span years.”
Eloise met her gaze without hesitation. “Then perhaps they should have been spoken plainly,” she replied.
What is this lass trying to tell me? I am confused.
Mairead studied her more closely now, something shifting in her expression. “Ye’re bolder than I expected,” she said.
Eloise allowed herself the faintest smile. “I’ve had to be,” she answered.
The silence that followed was not entirely hostile, but it was far from warm.
Mairead turned her book over in her hands, thoughtful. “And are ye happy here, Miss Eloise?” she asked.
The question caught her off guard, though she hid it well. “I am… settlin',” Eloise said carefully.
Mairead nodded slowly. “Aye,” she said. “That is one way to describe it.”
Her gaze lingered a moment longer before she stepped back, her fingers brushing the spine of a book as though she had all the time in the world.
“I’ve only just returned,” she said lightly, her tone smooth as silk. “I was visiting me family for a short while. Me father is Laird Cameron.”
Eloise nodded once, though her brow furrowed faintly. “Then ye daenae live here?” she asked.
Mairead’s lips curved in a small smile. “Oh, but I do,” she said. “This castle has been me home for most of me life.”
Eloise blinked, confusion settling more firmly.
“But ye are the daughter of Laird Cameron,” Eloise said carefully. “Why would ye live at Calibroch?”
Mairead’s gaze softened, though something measured lingered beneath it. “I was fostered here,” she explained. “Sent as a child, part of an agreement between our clans.”
Eloise tilted her head slightly, listening.
“I grew up within these walls,” Mairead continued. “It was… a close upbringing. Children are often placed where bonds may grow stronger.” She paused briefly, then added, almost idly, “And where futures may be… encouraged.”
Eloise felt the subtle shift in meaning. “Encouraged?” she echoed.
Mairead met her gaze fully then, her expression calm but deliberate. “Aye,” she said. “It was always understood that I would have a place here.”
Her voice remained gentle, but there was a quiet certainty beneath it. “Some things daenae need to be spoken plainly to be known.”
Eloise felt something peculiar deep in her belly. “I see,” she said, though she was no longer certain she did.
Mairead’s smile widened just slightly, though it still did not reach her eyes. “Do ye?” she asked softly. “Because from where I stand, it seems much has changed in a very short time.”
Eloise straightened, holding her ground. “Change is part of life,” she said. “And nae all expectations are meant to be fulfilled.”
Mairead studied her for a long moment, something unreadable flickering behind her gaze. “Aye,” she said at last. “That is one way to look at it.”
The silence stretched between them, quiet but far from comfortable. “I hope ye find Calibroch to yer likin',” Mairead said after a moment, her tone once again pleasant.
Eloise inclined her head slightly. “I am learnin' to,” she replied.
Mairead nodded, though there was something almost amused in the gesture. “I imagine ye are,” she said. “It can be… difficult, at first.”
Eloise did not respond.
“Well,” Mairead said lightly, though the tension had not fully left her tone. “I imagine we will be seein’ a great deal more of one another.”
Eloise inclined her head slightly. “I imagine we will. Good day,” she replied. Mairead turned back toward the window.
As Eloise turned to leave, she could feel Mairead’s presence lingering behind her. By the time she stepped out into the corridor, she was no closer to understanding whether Mairead’s kindness was genuine, or simply well-practiced.
Eloise moved quickly through the halls, her thoughts restless once more.
She found Fiona in the scullery, sleeves rolled up as she worked among basins and dishes.
“Fiona,” Eloise said, her tone urgent enough to draw immediate attention.
Fiona looked up, surprised. “Miss Eloise? What is it?” she asked, wiping her hands.
Eloise glanced around briefly. “I need to speak with ye,” she said.
Fiona blinked, then nodded. “Aye, of course.”
They slipped away from the noise of the scullery, finding a quieter corner near the back passage where few people passed. Fiona turned to her, concern already evident.
“What’s amiss?” she asked.
Eloise hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “I met someone in the library,” she said. “Mairead Cameron.”
Fiona’s expression shifted instantly, a small smile forming. “Ah,” she said. “So she’s returned, then.”
Eloise studied her reaction. “Ye ken her well?” she asked.
Fiona nodded easily. “Aye,” she said. “She’s been here since she was a wee child. Raised among the MacAllisters.”
Eloise folded her arms slightly. “So she is… family?” she pressed.
Fiona tilted her head. “In all but name,” she said. “She’s always had a place here.”
Eloise’s thoughts turned over quietly. “She spoke as though… she expected to remain,” she said.
Fiona smiled faintly. “I suppose she always did,” she replied. “It was nay secret that she was brought here to strengthen ties between the clans.”
Eloise hesitated, the next question forming but lingering unspoken.
Is Mairead promised to James? Is that the agreement between the two clans? What does she truly mean to James?
She wanted to ask but the words stayed caught in her throat.
Instead, she looked away slightly. “She seems… kind,” Eloise said, though her tone held uncertainty.
Fiona gave a small shrug. “She is,” she said.
Eloise nodded faintly.
I still have nae answers about Mairead. Could I ask James about her? But how can I ask him such a thing after he kissed me?