Chapter 33
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
The castle seemed to breathe differently that evening.
The heaviness that had settled over Rosewood in the days following Claire's disappearance had finally lifted.
Laughter drifted through the corridors once more, and servants moved about their duties without the constant worry shadowing their faces.
Somewhere in the courtyard below, a stable hand whistled a cheerful tune while brushing down one of the horses.
Claire paused outside the solar where the others had gathered. She could hear Leo's laughter before she even reached the doorway.
"...and if Douglas insists on beating me at chess one more time," Leo was saying, his voice carrying easily into the hall, "I'll begin to suspect he's cheating."
Douglas didn't even look up from the board. "Ye've accused me of cheating every game."
"Because ye keep winning."
"Perhaps ye're simply terrible."
Leo gasped dramatically. "I've never been so insulted in all me life."
Finn's quiet chuckle reached Claire just before she stepped inside.
The room was incredibly warm, the fire crackling gently in the hearth despite the mild evening air.
Violet sat near one of the tall windows with her embroidery, while Beatrice sorted herbs she had gathered that morning.
Molly occupied a chair beside her, helping separate the fresh sprigs into neat little bundles.
Finn leaned against the heavy oak table with Douglas, studying one of the large maps spread before them. At the sound of the door opening, every head turned.
Finn looked up first, and his expression softened almost immediately. "There ye are."
Claire smiled warmly. "I hope I'm nae interrupting."
"Nay," Violet said with a welcoming smile. "Come in."
Claire crossed the room, though she moved more slowly than she would have liked.
Her strength had returned, but not entirely, and she still found herself tiring sooner than she cared to admit.
Finn noticed her fatigue instantly. He always noticed.
Without a single word, he pulled out the chair nearest him.
She looked at him with amused affection. "I can still stand."
"I ken. But ye've been on yer feet all afternoon," he added softly.
She gave him a playful look before accepting the seat anyway. "Ye're becoming terribly overprotective."
Douglas snorted loudly from his place at the chessboard. "Becoming?"
A ripple of laughter moved through the room, and even Finn looked faintly guilty. "I've been told that already," he muttered.
"By nearly everyone," Molly added from the corner.
Claire reached for his hand beneath the edge of the table and gave it a quick, reassuring squeeze. "I daenae mind."
His fingers curled gently around hers before he reluctantly let go. She glanced around the room, suddenly aware that everyone seemed unusually content. It felt entirely normal. She hadn't realized how dearly she'd missed these ordinary moments.
She cleared her throat softly. "There was something I wished to ask."
Finn turned toward her fully. "Aye?"
The attention of the entire room followed his. Claire suddenly found herself smoothing an invisible crease in her skirt. "It may sound rather foolish."
Leo grinned broadly. "Oh, then ye're among friends."
Beatrice nudged him sharply with her elbow. "Hush."
Claire laughed softly before continuing. "I was wondering if I might take the girls riding down to the river before sunset."
There was a heartbeat of silence. Then Violet's face lit with immediate understanding. "The blessing."
Beside her, Beatrice smiled just as knowingly. "I wondered if ye would ask."
Leo looked from one woman to the other in absolute confusion. "The blessing?" He frowned deeply. "What blessing?"
"The old bridal blessing," Violet explained patiently. "The one by the river."
Leo blinked. "Oh." Another pause stretched out before he burst into a loud laugh. "I should have guessed."
Beatrice arched one elegant brow. "And what exactly is so amusing?"
He lifted both hands in surrender. "Nothing. Only that Highlanders seem to have a tradition for absolutely everything."
"We do," Molly said matter-of-factly. "If someone sneezes, there's probably an old blessing for it somewhere."
Margaret laughed brightly. "There probably is."
Leo shook his head with exaggerated disbelief. "So now we're sending brides to rivers?"
"We've always sent brides to rivers," Beatrice corrected smoothly. "And ye should be careful before ye laugh at the custom."
"Oh?"
She smiled sweetly at him. "That very tradition brought me to ye."
Leo's grin faltered. It lasted only a second before he cleared his throat with exaggerated dignity. "Well." He folded his arms across his chest. "When ye put it that way."
"I thought so," Beatrice replied.
The room erupted in laughter, and even Douglas's carefully composed expression cracked into a genuine smile. Finn laughed quietly too, his green eyes drifting back to Claire.
"So," she asked gently, "may we go?"
"As though I would refuse ye." His answer came so easily that it made her heart flutter. "Ye've scarcely asked me for anything since coming here."
Claire lowered her eyes for a moment. "I dinnae wish to presume."
Finn reached across the table, brushing his rough fingertips lightly against hers. "Ye never need ask whether ye belong here."
She looked back at him, the weight of his words settling warmly inside her chest.
He rose from his chair. "I've no objection." His gaze moved to Douglas. "I'll have a few men ride the upper ridge while ye're there."
Claire began to protest. "Finn."
He smiled before she could finish her complaint. "They'll keep their distance. I promised ye freedom, and I intend to keep that promise." His expression softened beautifully. "But after everything that's happened, indulge me in this one precaution."
Claire held his gaze for a long moment before nodding softly. "Aye. Thank ye."
He bent just enough to press a gentle, lingering kiss against her forehead. It lasted only a moment, but it was long enough to make Molly smile into her lap and long enough for Leo to look dramatically toward the ceiling.
"I see we're interrupting something," Leo drawled.
Claire laughed, her pale cheeks warming instantly. "We're leaving."
"Aye," Beatrice said, rising gracefully from her chair. "Before sunset."
Violet carefully folded away her embroidery, while Margaret gathered the light riding cloaks she had already set aside. Molly was already halfway to the heavy door.
"I'll have the horses saddled," the maid announced happily.
Claire looked around at the women as they prepared to leave together, their cheerful conversation filling the room once more. For the first time since arriving in the dangerous Highlands, she wasn't simply following them. She was one of them.
The horses left Rosewood at an easy pace, their hooves muffled against the well-worn dirt path leading toward the river.
No one hurried. The evening itself seemed reluctant to pass too quickly.
The sky stretched overhead in broad strokes of brilliant gold and pale amber, the setting sun casting long, beautiful shadows across the rolling hills.
A cool breeze drifted through the quiet glen, carrying the rich scent of pine and blooming heather, and somewhere in the distance a lark sang its final song before nightfall.
Claire breathed the crisp air deeply. "I've missed this."
Molly glanced sideways at her from her sturdy pony. "Riding?"
Claire smiled softly. "Feeling the wind. It seems different somehow."
Margaret nodded knowingly from her mount. "It always does after ye've been kept indoors."
Claire laughed. "I was beginning to think I'd never escape me chamber."
"Finn would likely have kept ye there another fortnight if the healer had allowed it," Violet said, adjusting her riding gloves. "He worried enough for three husbands."
"He still does," Molly added with a bright grin.
Claire's cheeks warmed under the teasing. "I've noticed."
Beatrice laughed softly. "And does it trouble ye?"
Claire looked ahead, watching the dirt path disappear between clusters of ancient, white-barked birch trees. "Nay." She smiled to herself. "I think I rather like knowing someone worries if I'm late."
For a moment, no one spoke, allowing the peaceful sounds of the forest to surround them. Then Molly reached across the small distance between their horses and nudged Claire's arm gently.
"Ye've become one of us."
Claire looked at the loyal maid. "I hope so."
"There is nay hope about it," Margaret replied firmly. "Half the castle already thinks of ye as though ye've lived there all yer life."
Claire laughed lightly. "I've only been there a few months."
"Aye," Violet said, a wistful note in her voice. "Funny how quickly home can decide it belongs to someone."
The poignant words settled quietly inside Claire.
She had never imagined hearing Rosewood spoken of as her true home.
Not when she'd first crossed its imposing iron gates.
Not when she'd believed every polite smile concealed dark suspicion.
Not when she'd expected to leave the valley as soon as duty allowed her an escape.
Yet now, she found herself wondering what it would actually feel like to leave. The honest answer surprised her. It would feel incredibly lonely.
The path curved gently downward until the thick trees began to thin out. Beyond them, the winding river shimmered beneath the evening sun like a perfect ribbon of polished glass.
"There it is," Beatrice said softly.
Claire slowed her mare as the others did the same.
The riverbank lay completely peaceful and untouched.
Purple heather bloomed vibrantly along the edges of the water, its delicate blossoms nodding gently in the twilight breeze.
Wildflowers grew in scattered patches between smooth grey stones, and the long weeping willow branches dipped low enough to brush the surface of the river as it flowed lazily toward the valley below.
There were no voices. No heavy footsteps. Only the soothing sound of the water.
Margaret slipped easily from her leather saddle. "I've always loved this place."
"So have I," Violet admitted, following suit. "My mother brought me here before me wedding."
Molly smiled warmly. "And mine before hers."
Claire dismounted carefully, favoring her healing muscles. Before she could steady herself completely, Molly was already right beside her.
"I told ye I can manage," Claire teased gently.
"Aye." Molly took the leather reins anyway. "And yet here I am."
The women laughed together as they tethered the horses beneath a stand of tall ash trees. For a while, they simply stood in a loose circle, looking out at the rushing river. It seemed entirely wrong somehow to break the beautiful quiet of the glen.
Finally, Beatrice stepped closer to the rushing water. "When I first came here, I was terrified."
"Leo would scarcely believe that now," Violet replied with a smirk. "He still thinks ye're terrifying."
"As he should," Beatrice noted proudly.
Another ripple of lighthearted laughter followed her declaration. Claire looked from one familiar, friendly face to another.
"So, what exactly happens?" Claire asked.
Margaret bent gracefully to gather several small white blossoms growing near the muddy riverbank. She handed one delicate flower to Claire, then another to Molly. Soon each woman held a single white blossom in her hand.
"There are nay strict rules," Margaret explained quietly. "Only tradition."
Claire turned the delicate flower slowly between her fingers. "And the blessing?"
Violet smiled. "The blessing is simply hope." She stepped carefully to the water's edge. Holding her flower lightly, she closed her eyes for a brief moment before letting it drift onto the current. "May laughter always find this home."
The white blossom floated away, carried gently downstream by the water. Beatrice followed immediately, ensuring her flower settled right beside Violet's.
"May love never ask either heart to stand alone," Beatrice said softly.
Molly looked incredibly thoughtful for a long moment. "I've never been very good at speeches."
"You've never let that stop ye," Beatrice observed dryly.
"It hasnae," Molly agreed. The maid grinned widely before dropping her own flower into the rushing river. "May yer husband always remember ye're right."
Margaret laughed aloud. "Even when ye're wrong?"
"Especially then," Molly insisted.
The women dissolved into laughter once again, the joyous sound echoing softly across the water. Claire laughed until happy tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. When the laughter finally faded, Margaret stepped forward to the bank. She placed her own flower gently upon the river.
"May peace always find its way back to yer hearth," Margaret whispered.
The current carried it gently after the others, leaving only Claire on the bank.
Five blossoms drifted on the river. She looked at the flower in her hand—small, ordinary, but strangely heavy.
The breeze stirred her hair as she walked to the water's edge.
She thought of England, the frightened woman crossing the sea, Rosewood, Douglas teasing Finn, Molly's chatter, Violet's kindness, Beatrice's wisdom, Leo's jokes, smiling servants, and a castle echoing with unfamiliar voices.
Finally, she thought of Finn, who had become her home without realizing.
She knelt by the river, the water reflecting the golden sky.
"I came to these Highlands believing I was leaving me entire life behind." Her voice barely rose above the gentle murmur of the river. "Instead, I found one." She smiled, a single tear slipping down her cheek. "May I never forget how fortunate I am to have found a home where I least expected one."
She released the flower. For a moment it rested right beside her fingertips, bobbing slightly. Then the current gathered it gently, carrying it quickly after the others until all five blossoms floated together beneath the warm, fading light of the setting sun.
No one spoke. The silence wasn't empty; it was full and rich. The river flowed steadily onward, carrying the blessings with it, while the women stood shoulder to shoulder beneath the fading evening sky, watching hope drift toward whatever tomorrow might bring.