Page 75 of How to Be a Scottish Mistress

“Hello, Spencer.” Fiona forced a smile. “I’m sorry to have awakened you so terribly early, but I’ve asked Father Niall to bring you here so that I might bid you a proper good-bye. I’m leaving this morning. Quite soon in fact. And I shall not be returning.”

The shock in his eyes brought a rush of unexpected tears to her. Uncertainty clawed at her, along with a strong sense of duty. Had she thoroughly considered how this would affect her child? Would he feel abandoned, deserted by her actions?

“Why are ye leaving?”

A fair question, yet impossible to answer with complete honesty. Squeezing her eyes shut, Fiona pressed her palm to her forehead. “I know this makes little sense to you, yet you must trust that I know what is best.”

“If you leave, then I must go with ye.”

Fiona’s throat tightened. ’Twas not only the loyal sentiment that moved her, but hearing him sayye.The Scottish influence she had hoped would be Spencer’s salvation was starting to engulf him.

“Oh, dearest. Nothing would make me happier than to have you by my side. But for now, ’tis best if you remain here and continue with your training.”

“Where are ye going?”

“Somewhere safe,” Fiona answered vaguely, knowing it was best if her son had no specific information. This way when Gavin pressed the boy for details, as he most assuredly would, Spencer could answer truthfully that he knew nothing.

“I have made the arrangements,” Father Niall added. “There’s no need to worry. All will be well.”

Spencer looked torn, glancing back and forth between them. Fiona’s chest tugged. She had to tell him more or else he would never accept her decision. But what could she say?

“I must be practical and go before I wear out my welcome,” she explained, her mouth curling in self-mockery. Offering to become the earl’s mistress had been the most impractical decision of her life. Yet it was far too late to undue that damage.

“Has the earl asked ye to leave?”

“Oh, no. He is too noble and chivalrous, but his kindness does not give me the right to take advantage of him. Do you understand?”

Fiona could tell by Spencer’s furrowed brow that he didn’t, but there was precious time left to say much else. Knowing she could no longer prolong the inevitable, Fiona reached for her son. Spencer suffered her tight hug and gentle cheek kiss with manly bravado, yet as she started to pull away, he grasped her tightly. The sweetness of his need melted her heart.

“I shall miss ye, Mother.”

In spite of her aching heart, Fiona could not help but smile. Spencer was a fine boy, with a true and loyal disposition. Her pride swelled as she pulled back and gazed at his dearly loved face. Oh, how she would miss him!

Unable to stop herself, Fiona reached for Spencer a second time. His arms also came forward and they hugged each other. For just a moment, Fiona caught a glimpse of the small boy who had always loved and admired her. The child she had raised as her own, who came to her when he was frightened, or hurt, or feeling ill. The child who needed her.

She wiped the tears pooling in her eyes with the back of her wrist and hesitated, her conscience battling with her protective mothering instincts. Was he too young to be left on his own? Should she swallow her pride, sacrifice the halves of a broken heart that would never have a chance to mend if she were near Gavin, and stay?

She clung to her son as long as she dared, until suddenly she felt his hand gently patting her shoulder, a clear offer of comfort. It was a bittersweet gesture, reminding her that he was maturing into a young man who understood and accepted his responsibilities. It also gave her the boost of courage she needed to accept the rightness of her decision.

They broke apart at the same moment. “When the time is right, I will send word through Father Niall,” Fiona promised, turning away before her resolve to leave failed.

“Wait here until I come back and tell you ’tis safe to return to the hall,” Father Niall instructed Spencer.

Then he turned to Fiona. She busied herself with her bundle of belongings, then looked at the ceiling to prevent any more tears from falling. The priest touched her arm, motioning for her to come. Side by side they walked across the bailey, which was slowly stirring to life.

There were a few people starting their morning chores, but none of them gave her a second glance. Still needing to avoid recognition, Fiona pulled the hood of her cloak high over her head and kept her face deliberately lowered. She stood a respectful distance away as the priest readied her horse, moving forward only after he signaled.

“Go with God,” the priest said kindly, as he hoisted her into the saddle.

Fiona nodded, unable to speak. The aching loneliness and longing that hung heavy within her heart was so near the surface she was certain she would burst into sobs if she spoke. She nudged her mount, taking up a position at the rear of the grain cart. The guard circled around the front; none seemed to take any notice of her and she realized Father Niall’s plan had been well thought out. She wondered how much he had paid them.

As they rode through the open gates, Fiona’s melancholy momentarily abated. Fear took hold. She was certain if any of the guards got a close look at her face, they would recognize her. She would be stopped, questioned. No doubt Gavin would be summoned and then . . . she couldn’t even begin to imagine what would happen next.

Fiona tried to take a deep breath, but her lungs felt tight. Bracing herself, she fought for calm. Her horse nickered and tossed his head and Fiona’s heart skipped. Visions of being stopped while the alarm was sounded spun before her eyes.

But luck or fate or justice was finally looking kindly upon her. Though it felt like an eternity, the guards never even gave her a glance as she went through the gates along with the cart and its escort. Noisily, they all rumbled down the road that wound through the village.

A thick mist enveloped them as they traveled through the village. When they emerged on the other side, dawn began to break, the distant horizon slowly brightening with an eerie pink glow. Gradually, a portion of the fog began to burn off and the sun began to move up in the sky. Fiona could now clearly see the breath from her horse’s nostrils waft into the air, as well as the road ahead.

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