Page 85 of Sweet Home Highlander
“Thank you. Doctor Stewart agrees, and has allowed me to finally leave my room at Maclaren.”
Niall remembered the luggage strapped to the carriage. “Ye’re not here for a visit.”
She shook her head, her copper eyes drifting away from his. “I’ve come to say goodbye. Lord Leclerc and I are leaving. He received a summons from his maternal grandfather in England, and we plan to stop in Newcastle.”
A drop of silence entered the study. It was so quiet, the sounds of the horses in the courtyard reached them.
“I see. Yes, of course.” Niall wasn’t sure what more to say without ruining yet one more thing. This could be a decent and civil goodbye, or it could devolve into a roiling mess of shouting, or even tears.
Aisla, for one, appeared to be holding herself well in check, and by God, he would do the same. He’d made an ass of himself at the folly, letting his emotions overtake him. He wouldn’t do so again. If anything, he wanted her to smile at him, if only for one more time.
“I dunnae ken if I told ye, but I’ve started to like that painting,” he said, nodding toward the Rubens. Aisla looked at it, still rigid in her posture, her knuckles white from her grip on the walking stick.
“I meant it to torture you,” she said.
“It did,” he said with a short laugh. “But now I cannae stop looking at it, most of the time.”
He knew why. The pain Prometheus was enduring…Niall felt something like it, too, even more so right then. He knew saying as much to Aisla would be a mistake, though.No more guilt.
“Thank ye for redecorating my study,” he said instead. She peered at him, wary of the compliment. “I mean it, Aisla. Yer touches here at Tarben Castle…they’ll remain. Even the portraits of all the dogs, though perhaps no’ the ruffles.”
He expected a smile, but instead, her brows narrowed as if she were distressed. Once again, it hadn’t been the right thing to say.End this, Niall, while ye still can with dignity.
His eye fell to the slender hand holding the cane and the bracelet he could see peeping from her sleeve. The sight of it warmed his heart as if she were taking a piece of him with her.
“Is that the bracelet I made?” he asked, recalling how Aisla had admired the braided band, inlaid with topaz and and two finely cut apatite gems. He remembered when she had bought it with the intent of showcasing the Tarbendale pieces in Paris.
Her eyes followed his, a soft blush staining her cheeks. “Yes. It’s beautiful. And I wanted it to remember Tarbendale and all you’ve done here.”
Then stay.
It was on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed the words.
“Come. I’ll walk ye to the courtyard.”
It would kill him to hand her inside the carriage and watch her ride off, out of his life, once and for all. But he would not be a coward, not again. He’d see this goodbye through.
She moved slowly, he noticed as they left the study, her right leg seeming to be stiff.
“Does it hurt?” he asked.
Aisla whipped her head toward him, lips parted, as if puzzled by his question. “Does what hurt?”
“Yer leg,” he answered. Relief transformed her face.
“Oh. My leg. Yes, it does, a little bit. But nothing terrible.”
“What did ye think I meant?”
They made their way down the corridor, toward the wide stairs that would empty out into the foyer. Aisla looked suddenly bashful, and not at all composed as she’d been when she’d first appeared in his study.
Blushing, she answered, “I thought you meant my leaving Scotland.”
Niall’s hand shot out, as if on its own volition, and took hold of her arm, stopping her. He stared into her eyes, words thrashing around inside his mind…and regret, so much desperate regret. His chest closed tight.
“Aisla,” he choked out, not knowing what more he should say. He wanted to apologize for the things he’d said at the folly. He wanted to confess that he’d been wrong, that he’d been a jealous bastard and he wanted just one more chance to prove to her that he’d changed. That he could trust her. That he alreadydidtrust her, and that he wouldn’t fail her again. But then, he remembered Leclerc, waiting at the carriage, and how even if he did confess and beg her to stay, it wouldn’t change anything.
A full minute might have passed by as Niall contemplated this all in his head, and Aisla waited patiently, her eyes holding his gaze as he grappled for what to say. But then her eyes shifted, turning to look past Niall’s shoulder.
