Page 76 of Wed to the Highlander
Ewen’s gaze lingered on Maggie then dropped to the pine box. He sighed, the years of feuding and other pine boxes clearly weighing on him.
“I’m filled with grief and regret,” he said quietly. “For what she did and for what we failed to prevent. Please accept my apology, on behalf of every Cameron.”
Duncan nodded once. “I accept. And my wife is right. It’s past time to settle our differences. What about the terms?”
Ewen looked him in the eye, unblinking for a moment then extended his hand. “Agreed.”
Duncan clasped it, firm and final.
The clans were finally at peace.
As the Camerons turned to leave, the pine box secured to the back of a cart, Maggie pressed her lips to Jamie’s brow and whispered something Fiona couldn’t hear.
But she saw the look in Duncan’s eyes as he climbed the steps to join them—relief, pride, and something deeper. Conviction. That whatever challenge the MacPhersons faced next, they’d face together.
***
Fiona steadied herself with a hand on the wall as she climbed the steps from the cellar. It wouldn’t do to fall, not with the bairn only a few weeks away. In her other hand, she carried a bottle of ginger wine—the special blend, boiled, not fermented—that she could enjoy while everyone else had their beer and whiskey. She sure missed relaxing with a dram in front of the fire at the end of a long day.
On the way back to the main hall, she passed the entry to the west wing. Once reserved for honored guests, Isla had claimed it long ago. No one else had wished to sleep within reach of a madwoman, and so it had remained hers—until now. The wing stood deserted, its silence heavy.
She should gather the women and have it scrubbed from top to bottom. Heaven knew they needed the space. But not yet.
She had turned to go when a sound drifted from the corridor. Faint. Fragile.
Was that…weeping?
She had come to live at the High Glen seven years ago. Long enough to know the stories. Long enough to wonder if, one day, she might encounter the red-haired lady herself.
With her heart thudding, she moved slowly down the hall.
The door to Isla’s chamber stood ajar, and she almost turned back.
Instead, she held her breath and pushed it wider. Inside, Agnes sat on the edge of the bed, tears on her cheeks. It took her aback, having never seen her mother-in-law cry, even when she buried her husband. She was surrounded by the scattered contents of emptied drawers. Her shoulders shook with quiet sobs, though she wiped at her face quickly when she saw Fiona.
“Sorry tae disturb. I’ll leave ye alone to grieve.”
“No. Stay,” she called, surprising Fiona.
Agnes had come to accept her in time, but she wasn’t what she’d call friendly. More tolerant thanwarm, she showed affection only toward Lachlan and their three lads.
“I am alone now. ’Tis why I’m sittin’ in here weeping.”
“That’s not true. You have family.”
“Aye, but I’m the only Cameron in a house full of MacPhersons.” She eyed her swollen belly. “Soon to be one more. I best start makin’ my peace with it.”
“The laird offered you a place with your clan.”
Fiona’s observation got a reaction.
“Is that what ye want? To be well rid of me?”
“Oh no! I dinna mean that at all. Truly.” Seeking a safer subject, Fiona looked around. “I thought you cleaned Isla’s room out months ago.”
“I meant to, but dinna, hoping she might come back,” Agnes muttered, tossing aside a crumpled kerchief. “D’ye ken she never let me in here? Not once, all these years.”
“You took care of her. Defended her, even though she was troubled. I’m sure she knew you loved her.”
