Page 7 of Eloping with the Laird
It was as if she had disappeared into the walls of Glenhaven. Was she serious about her offer to marry him? If so, did he wish to propose to her? Neither would be possible to discern if he had to wait until the tournament was over, and by her words, she had less than a day remaining to make her choice of husband. Once again, time was against him.
He scrubbed a hand through his hair and continued down another long corridor, frustration simmering within. Where could she have disappeared to? When the group had reconvened in the Great Hall and she wasn’t with the ladies, he thought he’d go mad, right then and there. He had to admit that she was an enchanting prospect for a wife. One that had garnered the gazes from many of the lairds this eve as they dined, and he didn’t like their lustful looks one bit.
Which was ridiculous. He barely knew the woman. Perhaps exhaustion was crushing his logic.
Out of the corner of his gaze, a vibrant swath of a forget-me-not-blue gown disappeared around the corner at the end of the long hall ahead of him.Moira.He recognised the unique shade of blue after catching glimpses of it all evening. He advanced along the hallway with purpose and speed. Few torches lit the walls of this rear portion of the castle, most likely because it wasn’t often utilised, so he tried to blunt the sound of his approach as best he could. He didn’t wish to frighten her away after finally locating her.
The soft tendrils of her voice halted his progress at the open doorway. She talked to someone in a way he dearly wished to be spoken to. With reverence, kindness and...something else he refused to name. His pulse picked up speed, blood thrumming through his body.
‘How are you, my dear?’ she murmured.
Rory strained to hear the answer, but nothing came. He clenched his teeth, his muscles coiling tighter. Who was she meeting here under such mysterious circumstances?
‘You are divine, my love,’ she whispered.
Or was she meeting a lover?
His jaw clenched. He fisted his hands by his sides. Had her speech to him earlier in the day been a farce and she’d already secured a match? Or did she pursue multiple interests as Lorna had?
He held still, but there was still no answer. Unable to stand it a moment longer, he inched his head around the doorway, gripping the moulding until he thought it might crumble beneath his hold. What he saw stole his breath.
And confused him.
She appeared to be murmuring with such affection and reverence to...plants.
She sat curled up on a dark well-worn leather chair running her porcelain fingertips along the green leaves of seedlings. The small stalks poked through the dark soil nestled in three identical clay pots along the windowsill. Her hair hung in dark curls along her back, down the side of her blue bodice, and danced along her creamy white skin.
The urgency to find her rushed out of him. He was mesmerised. Mrs Fraser continued to surprise him in every way imaginable and beyond even that. And the last thing he wished to do now was invade this private moment. She was so peaceful, serene and...happy. All because of these three little potted plants on a windowsill. It was the most joyful he’d seen her. He felt like a cad for believing her capable of meeting a man for some secret tryst when she had all but proposed to him earlier in the day. She was not Lorna, and he shouldn’t believe every woman would be. Inching away from the doorway, he leaned back against the cool stone, letting his heart regain a more regular rhythm. Her sweet humming made him smile.
After a minute, he started off quietly down the hallway to return to his chamber. He was more determined than ever to speak with Mrs Moira Fraser on the morrow. He had to know if she was serious about a future union with him. And whether he wished to make this mysterious woman a proposal to become his wife and Lady of Blackmore Castle.
Chapter Four
The next morn, Rory stepped out of the side door of Glenhaven Castle, and the brisk, biting air filled his lungs with calm, certainty and quiet. He adjusted his dark overcoat collar to shield his neck from the cold. The golden leaves of autumn would be falling soon, and the first snow would be upon them in a few weeks. The serene waters of the loch beckoned him, the foggy mist hovering over the meadow and kissing along its banks.
A bark sounded off in the distance, and he spied a woman playing with a wolfhound along the water’s edge.Moira.She was out on a morning walk as her maid said she would be. His chest constricted and he opened and closed his hand by his side.It was now or never.It didn’t matter that most of the household slept and such a private meeting might be seen as a bit untoward.
But if there was a woman who was a bit unconventional, it was Mrs Fraser.
He began his descent to the loch, cutting a silvery path through the heavy dew-covered grass. The unabashed contentment in her movements and her relaxed features made him realise that the woman he’d seen yesterday at the tournament was but a shell of the woman she might be, and he hated whatever had made her that way. He clenched his jaw.
The dog spotted him first, as Rory expected, and the large grey beast galloped towards him barking in alarm and greeting. Moira turned, shading her eyes. Her body tensed and then relaxed. She readjusted her ebony cloak and pulled it around her shoulders as coils of her breath filled the air between them.
‘Good morn, my laird. I am surprised to see you so early.’ She gestured for the dog to sit by her side, and he did, his tongue lolling out of his mouth as he swiped a haphazard kiss to her hand.
Rory cleared his throat, attempting to regain his purpose. ‘Good morn to you, Mrs Fraser. Your maid told me you often take your exercise early. I’d like to discuss your proposal further, since we weren’t afforded the opportunity last evening.’
Lord above, he sounded quite rigid and fussy. He frowned and shifted on his feet. Something about the prospect of her refusing him or somehow being wrong about her intentions bunched his reason in knots.
The full smile she gifted him made some of his doubt melt away. ‘I am pleased to hear that. I was afraid my rather abrupt mentioning of it had ruined my chance.’
‘Nay.’ He offered her his arm. ‘Care to walk with me while you tell me your terms?’
Her eyes clouded, and she hesitated, biting her bottom lip. She squared her shoulders and then tentatively slid her hand around the crook of his elbow to rest on his forearm. Her hold was stiff, tension resonating through her. He wished to put her at ease, but didn’t know how.
The hound ran alongside them, crashing haphazardly into his thigh, before bounding down the hill and sending a flock of starlings scattering into the air.
‘Is he yours?’ he asked.
