Page 44 of Here in Your Arms
“Iknow,” Rose moaned, slumping slightly. “But I don’t—Ican’t—I have no idea what I’m supposed to do! Every option feels like the wrong one.”
Emmy’s expression softened. “Because this is the first real decision you’ve had to make since you got here.”
Rose’s stomach clenched.
She was right.
When she had first arrived, everything had been chaos. She had been swept up in a tidal wave of events, reacting more than deciding, barely keeping her head above water. Emmy had madeall her decisions for her, essentially. This was the first time she had been given the choice to stay or to leave.
And she had no idea what to do with it.
Emmy squeezed her hands gently. “I know it’s scary. But youdoknow the answer. Rose, if I were you, I would want to know, to understand....”
Rose nodded, and yet....
Emmy’s voice softened further. “Rose, I have a feeling that if you did return to Dunmara with us, you’d be wishing you’d stayed here, that you’d at least tried to get to the bottom of...well, whatever this is. It’s so different than—I didn’t have any underlying mystery in my event. It was just me, hurtled through time. I guess the only questions that still remain are: by whom? How? Why? But I don’t let it consume me anymore.” She waved her hand, dismissing her own digression. “The best advice I can give you is to accept it as best you can—for the moment. Looking back, I feel like I wasted too much time trying to get away. And maybe youwillget back to the future. Maybe that’s still in store for you.” She lifted her gaze to Rose’s again, something earnest in her expression. “But Rose, you’ve got things to do, things that need attention—this whole mystery of your apparently spot-on resemblance to Margaret, and now to discover it was the same woman’s journal...you can’t let that go uninvestigated. Secondly, look around you. Look at thegiftyou’ve been given. You’re the historian—isn’t this a dream of historians? To actuallylivehistory rather than just read about it in dusty books? There’s so much more going on at Druimlach than Dunmara, the keep and clan being so much larger than the MacIntyres. Rose, this is the place to do that, to study, to learn, to immerse yourself.”
Rose nodded, because shehadthought the same thing. But then she laughed, pinning Emmy with a look of mock suspicion. “Wow. Are you trying to get rid of me?”
Emmy’s denial was, blessedly, instant and genuine. “Never. Rose, for as long as you’re here or as long as you live, you have a home at Dunmara. I give you my word.”
Rose’s entire body and face melted at such heartfelt kindness. “Thank you, Emmy.”
At the same moment, they both began to move, leaning into each other, an embrace feeling perfect for the moment.
Rose squeezed her friend tightly. “I am so thankful for you,” she whispered into Emmy’s hair.
“And I you,” Emmy returned, shimmying their hug a bit. “We time-travelers have to stick together,” she whispered.
***
The next morning, Rose followed Emmy outside into the courtyard, where Brody and the MacIntyre men were already busy, saddling horses and checking weapons and supplies. Rose was surprised to see at least a dozen other men, MacRae men, doing the same. Two of them—one being the insufferable Malcolm—were already sitting in the saddle, waiting.
The sun was bright this morning, so much so that Rose had to lift her hand to shield her eyes as she scanned the busy and crowded yard. Tiernan was there, standing a short distance away, speaking in low tones with the man named James. The light caught in the strands of his dark hair, revealing hints of deep brown beneath the black, and highlighting the strands of gray in his short beard. The sun cast sharp angles over his chiseled features, illuminating the strong lines of his jaw and the perpetual crease between his brows. Fleetingly, Rose considered that at least he scowled at other people, too, and not only her.
“Are these MacRaes going with you?” Rose asked Emmy as they crossed the bailey.
“They are,” Emmy answered. “MacRae insisted. Apparently, he’d gotten word yesterday from a neighboring clan to the east that there have been sightings, and actually some run-ins, with reivers along the old roads, no doubt preying on travelers—very dangerous thieves, Brody has cautioned me.”
Reivers. Rose tucked that word away in her mind. Not just common thieves, then—dangerous ones, if they were desperate enough, she supposed.
“Actually,” Emmy went on just as she reached her husband, handing him her plump saddle bag, “it works out perfectly, since I wanted to send you some clothes. I’ll just have these men bring them back to you.”
“Thanks, Emmy.” She exhaled and squared her shoulders. This was only goodbyefor now,she reminded herself. She would see Emmy again. Drawing closer, she offered her friend a small smile. “I’m going to miss you.”
Emmy turned, her blue eyes warm with understanding. “But only for now. We’ll see each other again. Soon.” She reached for Rose’s hands, giving them a firm squeeze. “You’ll be all right?”
“Who knows,” Rose admitted honestly, though the words carried no despair, only the truth. “But I’ll figure it out.”
Emmy’s lips curved in a small, knowing smile. “I have no doubt that you will.”
Brody stepped forward, his keen gaze settling on her with quiet consideration, his broad frame draped in the muted tones of his plaid, the hilt of his sword glinting faintly in the morning light. The imposing Highlander had always carried an air of quiet authority. There was kindness in his expression now, tempered by something more serious.
“Lass, if ye want—or need—to come back to Dunmara, MacRae can get word to me,” he said. “I ken how difficult Emmy’s...settling in was. Like as nae, if it becomes...difficult here, ye’ll want to be with Emmy.”
Rose nodded in full agreement, warmed by his thoughtful words. “Thank you. Please be careful. Get home safely.”
Brody’s lips twitched with something like amusement. “I’m always careful, lass.”
