Chapter 32
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
The chamber door opened slowly. Claire paused on the threshold, one hand resting against the carved frame while she gathered enough strength to take the next step.
The corridor beyond looked exactly as she remembered: stone walls, tall windows spilling warm afternoon light across the floor, and servants moving quietly from one task to another.
Everything was familiar. Yet somehow... everything felt new.
"Ye should still be in bed," Molly's voice came from behind her.
Claire glanced over her shoulder to find Molly carrying a folded shawl while another woman followed beside her with the patient smile of someone who had already lost an argument. It was Douglas's wife, Margaret.
"I've spent nearly a week in bed," Claire protested. "I can walk to the great hall."
Margaret folded her arms. "Aye. Slowly. And with assistance."
Claire laughed softly. "I begin to think everyone in this castle has decided I'm made of glass."
"Nay," Molly replied as she wrapped the shawl around Claire's shoulders. "We simply ken ye're stubborn."
"That too," Margaret agreed.
Claire rolled her eyes with exaggerated patience. "I shall remember this betrayal."
Molly grinned. "We'll risk it."
With one woman on either side of her, Claire stepped into the corridor. Her legs still felt weaker than she cared to admit. The first few steps were easy enough, but by the time they reached the stairs, she was grateful for Molly's steady arm.
"I told ye," Molly murmured.
Claire sighed. "Ye're enjoying this far too much."
"A little."
They descended carefully into the great hall, and conversation slowed almost immediately.
Claire looked up in surprise. Servants carrying baskets of bread paused in the middle of the room.
A pair of maids smiled openly. One of the kitchen boys straightened so quickly he nearly dropped the tray balanced in his hands.
"Good afternoon, me lady," another servant bowed. "It's good to see ye walking again."
Claire blinked. "Thank ye."
As they continued across the hall, more smiles greeted her. One elderly housekeeper actually reached over and squeezed Claire's hand before hurrying back to her work.
Claire's smile faltered. "They've all been worrying."
Molly nodded quietly. "Aye."
Claire lowered her gaze. "I'm sorry."
Margaret looked at her in surprise. "What have ye to apologize for?"
"I've kept everyone frightened."
"And whose fault was that?" Margaret asked gently.
Claire opened her mouth, but no answer came. Molly squeezed her arm.
"The only thing ye're guilty of is surviving."
Claire swallowed the sudden tightness in her throat.
They reached the great hall, where laughter drifted from one of the long tables. Leo looked up first.
"There she is." He was on his feet before anyone else had noticed.
Violet followed, relief washing across her face as she hurried over. "Oh, Claire." She embraced her carefully. "I was beginning to think ye intended to avoid us forever."
Claire smiled. "I simply wished to make a dramatic entrance."
"Ye certainly succeeded," Beatrice said, rising from her chair. She drew Claire into another gentle embrace before stepping back to study her. "Ye still look pale."
"I feel considerably better than I look."
Her father approached more slowly. For a moment neither of them spoke, then he rested a careful hand against her shoulder. "I'm glad to see you standing."
"So am I."
A comfortable silence settled between them. It still felt strange. Not awkward, simply... new. Claire looked from one familiar face to another.
"I believe I'm well enough now." She smiled softly. "If ye've been waiting for me, we may leave whenever ye're ready."
Leo exchanged a glance with Violet before folding his arms. "Well..." He drew the word out thoughtfully. "I suppose we should ask permission from yer laird first if ye intend to leave with us."
Claire laughed, the sound brighter than it had been in days. "I hardly think that's necessary."
"Nay?"
"Nay."
Leo raised an eyebrow. "So ye're telling me Lady MacRae plans to abandon Rosewood without informing Laird MacRae?"
Claire tilted her head. "And where exactly is me laird?"
"As it happens..." The familiar voice came from the doorway, and everyone turned. Douglas stood there, one shoulder resting casually against the stone archway. His eyes found Claire immediately, and a quiet smile spread across his face. "In his study."
He pushed away from the doorway. "He has been expecting ye."
For reasons she couldn't quite explain, Claire's heartbeat quickened. Without thinking, her hand rose to smooth the folds of her dress.
Leo noticed, and a slow grin spread across his face. "I believe," he said, stepping aside with an exaggerated flourish, "yer laird has kept us all waiting long enough."
Claire tried to glare at him. Instead, she found herself smiling as she turned toward the corridor leading to Finn's study. Douglas remained where he was as Claire walked away. She could feel his eyes on her until she disappeared around the corner.
The corridor leading to Finn's study felt longer than she remembered, perhaps because every step brought her closer to the conversation she'd imagined a hundred different ways while lying awake through the long hours of recovery.
What would she say? Would he smile? Would he regret everything that had happened?
Would he still look at her the same way?
She reached the door. For a moment, she simply stood there, her hand hovering above the iron latch. Then she knocked.
"Come in." His voice was quiet.
Claire drew a slow breath and stepped inside.
Finn sat behind the broad desk near the window, a stack of maps spread before him. Several letters lay broken open beside them, each marked with different clan seals. He looked up, and everything stopped. The room. The noise from the courtyard below. Even Claire forgot to breathe.
He rose so quickly his chair scraped across the stone floor. For a long moment, neither of them moved. Finn drank in the sight of her. She was standing. That alone felt like a miracle.
Claire looked at him just as carefully. He looked older.
Dark circles shadowed his eyes. Fresh cuts crossed one hand and disappeared beneath the cuff of his shirt.
His beard had grown in unevenly over the past several days, and exhaustion rested across his features like another layer of clothing. She wondered if he'd slept at all.
Neither of them spoke. Finn took one step forward, then stopped.
Claire smiled gently. "I'm fine now."
His eyes searched hers as though trying to decide whether to believe her. She spread her hands slightly. "You shouldnae be afraid to come closer."
A soft laugh escaped him. "Ye think that's why I stayed away?"
Claire frowned. "Wasnae it?"
Finn shook his head. Slowly, he walked toward her. There was nothing dramatic in the movement. If anything, he looked almost uncertain, as though she might disappear if he hurried.
"I wasnae avoiding ye." He stopped only a few feet away. "I just returned this morning."
Claire blinked. "This morning?"
"Aye. I've spent days riding every corner of these lands." He looked away briefly before meeting her eyes again. "Every village. Every pass. Every abandoned watchtower. I wanted to know there was nowhere left for men like Callum Ross to hide."
Silence settled between them. His voice softened. "For ye."
She swallowed. "You did all that..."
He nodded once. "I had to."
Her eyes burned. "Finn..."
"I couldnae sit beside yer bed knowing I'd left the work unfinished. I would never forgive myself if another man crossed these borders while I was holding yer hand."
Claire looked down, blinking rapidly. "You dinnae have to carry all of that alone."
"Aye." His answer came quietly. "I did."
She looked up again. "Why?"
Finn let out a long breath. "I've spent most of me life believing a laird should carry everything alone." He walked past her toward the fire before turning back. "When me father died..." His gaze settled on the flames. "...I told myself I'd never make the same mistakes."
Claire remained silent. He had spoken of his father before, but never like this.
"He loved me mother. Aye. He loved her fiercely." A faint smile touched Finn's face. "I remember thinking there was nothing stronger." The smile faded. "When he died... I decided love had weakened him."
Claire stared at him. "He died protecting his family."
"I ken. But I was a frightened boy trying to make sense of losing everything.
" He laughed quietly at himself. "I convinced myself that marriage clouded judgment.
That affection made men reckless. That duty had to come before everything.
" He looked directly at her. "I believed distance kept people alive. "
The words lingered in the room, then his voice broke. "It nearly killed ye."
Claire's eyes filled. She crossed the space between them before she realized she was moving. "You sent me away because ye thought I'd be safe."
"I sent ye away because I couldnae bear the thought of losing ye." His jaw tightened. "And I almost did."
She reached out, very carefully. Her fingers brushed the healing cut along his cheek. He closed his eyes for a heartbeat beneath her touch.
"I should have trusted ye."
"Nay." Claire shook her head. "I never blamed ye."
His eyes opened again. "Why?"
She smiled sadly. "Because I kent ye."
He frowned. "I shouldnae have."
She gave the smallest laugh. "Every day... ye gave me another reason to trust ye. When I was frightened, ye never laughed. When I doubted myself, ye listened. When I challenged ye... ye challenged me back." She laughed softly. "I've never once felt safer than I did riding beside ye."
Finn looked away. "Ye were kidnapped under me protection."
"And ye still came." Her voice was quiet. "I ken ye would. Ye never promised, and ye never had to. I ken."