Page 82 of To Wed an Heiress
She nodded.
He looked as if he wanted to say something else, but remained silent.
“I don’t regret last night,” she said when he turned and headed for the door. He glanced over his shoulder at her. “If you were wondering.”
It was his turn to nod.
She watched as he closed the door behind him. Her emotions were all jumbled up like yarn in a basket. She was afraid that if she started to pull on one piece, it would lead to another skein.
All she felt was sadness. That was normal enough, she supposed, given the circumstances. She’d expected to feel sad leaving Lennox, but she hadn’t thought it would be this great, gaping hole where her heart used to be.
She had to leave.
The thought had occurred to her last night and time had only solidified the idea.
She didn’t want to be guilty of behaving the same way she had for most of her life. She’d always been a coward. A coward who’d lived a privileged existence. Not once had she said anything to her parents about how she wanted to be treated. Instead, she’d taken their care and protection and secretly railed against it.
Last night she’d been a coward again. Instead of fending for herself, she’d expected Lennox to save her. She wasn’t Lennox’s responsibility. If she wanted to get to Inverness she’d do it herself. Or maybe she wouldn’t run away again like she had a few weeks ago. Maybe this time she would face her problem.
No one could force her to marry Gregory. Her grandmother held the sword of approval over her head. Do as she said or risk being shunned. She doubted there was anything she could do to gain Ailsa’s approval at this point. The same with her parents. She wasn’t without options. She had the ability to set up her own establishment. It would mean that she’d live on the fringes of society, something she would never have considered before coming here. Yet she would be able to live her own life as she wanted.
Scotland had changed her.
Or maybe it was Lennox.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Mercy made it down the stairs and through the Clan Hall without being seen. She hesitated at the kitchen door when she saw Irene at the stove.
She couldn’t very well walk to the village or to Macrory House without her shoes.
“You’ll be needing boots to cross the glen,” Irene said without turning.
Mercy nearly jumped a foot.
“Your shoes are ruined.” Irene pointed to the back door where a pair of boots sat. “Take those. You can give them to Jean.”
Mercy entered the kitchen and grabbed the boots, then sat on one of the kitchen chairs to put them on.
“Thank you,” she said.
Irene only shrugged in response.
She turned and left the kitchen, walking through the corridor and into the Clan Hall. Here she slowed, looking around her, knowing that she’d never see this fascinating place again.
When she made it to the iron door, Irene startled her by coming up behind her silently as if she walked on cat feet.
“I’ll be seeing you to the glen,” Irene said.
“That’s not necessary.”
“It isn’t for you. I’m doing it for Lennox. He’d want to know that you were safely on your way.”
Mercy stopped herself from asking where he was, suspecting that Irene wouldn’t answer her.
The causeway was flooded, making her grateful for the loan of Irene’s boots. The older woman wore a pair of sturdy black shoes. If she felt any discomfort from the water seeping in through the leather she didn’t mention it.
“You’ve not said goodbye to him. Was that your plan, then? Sneaking out like a mouse who’d got her cheese?”
