Page 25 of The Highlander's Captured Bride
“I suppose being conflicted goes both ways…” she murmured to the dark lands before her.
Not even a week and she was already teetering on the edge of an emotional precipice. Call it the foolishness of youth, but she felt she was beginning to love this man.
But what would I ken of love? I’ve never been courted before or on the receiving end of a man’s attraction. Ethan doesnae look at me the way others do…mayhap it’s not even love but a mix of deep relief and sympathy?
Then again…could it be the first stages of love? Was the leap of her heart when he looked at her, or the tremble that ran over her skin when he said her name, the forgoers of love? Was that the look she had caught in his eyes a time or two, his confessed admiration for her, and his praises indications?
“Can never be,” she sighed, bracing her head on her arms that rested on the windowsill. “He’s not in a position to have more feelings than what he’s already juggling.”
Her doubts were lingering in her mind, but then she still was not sure if she could cross it out entirely. Her mother had told her that her father once openly admitted that he had fallen in love with her at first sight. When she had asked her father about it, he had told her it had been sudden and powerful as a lightning strike. Could she be inheriting that trait?
She stayed at the window, letting the soothing breeze wafting from the loch nearby began to calm her. Eventually, she went back to bed and slid between the sheets. Dawn was coming soon, and she needed to rest. If she and Ethan were ready to ride out again, she needed to have some strength to do so.
The sun woke her and feeling the strength of its rays, she knew it was later than she had expected to rise. Washing quickly, she donned a frock and hurried to the main hall. At the high table, Laird MacFerson was seated with his brother, but he looked more haggard than ever.
His face was mottled and his eyes sported black bags underneath them. He and his brother were speaking and from the hand Mister MacFerson lay on the Laird’s arm, they might have mended fences from the falling-out the day before. There was no sign of Ethan, though.
She mounted the dais and greeted each man. Laird MacFerson turned eyes heavy with respect towards her, and his slow knowing nod told her that he knew what she and Ethan had found yesterday.
Returning it with a gracious smile of her own, she sat and asked. “Where’s Faither?”
“He is preparing for a ride to Perth,” Laird MacFerson said. “Ethan told him whathehad found yesterday, so he is going to find any traces of this Gavina O’Bachnon.”
His stress on the word “he” told her that Ethan had held to his promise to tell his father all that happened while not makeherfather any the wiser about her activities. The Laird, however, knew all. Now that she had done her part and passed the baton to her father, Violet felt somewhat at ease. The Laird was gesturing for a servant who, after leaning his ear to his master, hurried off to the kitchen.
“Is Master MacFerson well?” she asked, looking around, not so subtly to see if she had overlooked Ethan. She had not. He was nowhere in the hall.
“Eh,” his father sighed waving his hand. “The boy is fine, off in the stables as he’s wont to do. Nay wonder Finley would always tell him to live there instead of the castle.”
There was pain when the older MacFerson son’s name was uttered, and it was still raw. The man’s son was dead; no wonder he had almost lost reason the other day when his brother had jabbed at him for drinking. God forbid the day that Violet, if she did get married, would have to bury her child.
A servant came and deposited a bowl of warm porridge before her and a trencher of bread and squares of butter. With a quick thanks to the server, she began eating. “It’s a habit for him then, caring for the horses.”
“That and riding them,” the younger of the MacFersons said. “I remember when Ethan was three-and-ten, he had been begging to go from ponies to stallions and we finally gave in. That boy—” Callum shook his head, “—took off with a speed that made me fear he was going to be thrown and break his neck. Much to me amazement, he managed to reel the horse in with a level of control I’ve only seen master riders perform.”
“I swear me son can be in a dead sleep and hear an ailing horse calling from Ackwell, and rush out without a care,” his father uttered an amused grunt.
Both men might be making fun of Ethan, but all Violet heard was that Ethan was a caring, empathetic soul. Having been in close contact with him over the past few days, she could attest to that. Ethan did not have one malicious bone in his body to see anyone hurt, human or animal.
She ate her fill and slipped a roll into her pocket. “If ye will excuse me, I’ll be at the stables. I ken Ethan promised to take me near the loch today.”
The two shared a look, then the Laird nodded, “If the tide is right, ask him to take ye on a boat ride. Some of our birlinn ships are small enough so that even one man can control it.”
“And be free to tell Ethan to take ye to that ‘secret’ cove he kens we dinnae ken about,” Mister Callum smiled while lifting his goblet. “His brother told us about it a long time ago.”
Hiding a snort, Violet nodded to both of them and left the room, hurrying to the stables. This “secret cove” sounded interesting, and since they had found this elusive woman that had the key to finding Finley’s murder, she felt it was time to enjoy these Highlands.
The grass blades were still wet with morning dew and by the time she got to the stables, the hem of her dress was damp. She went in and the smell of hay and leather hit her softly. She spotted Ethan’s golden head over a stall before it ducked.
She went over and knocked softy. “I come bearing gifts.” Plucking the roll from her pocket, she dangled it over the stall’s doorway.
A warm chuckle was his reply, and Ethan came out, dusting his hands on his trousers. “Good mornin’ to ye too.” Reaching out, he plucked the roll from her hand.
“Have ye eaten at all this morning?” Violet asked, looking around. “How long have ye been here?”
“Eh?” he murmured around his munching, “Dawn…before dawn, doesnae matter.”
“Oh, and yer faither and uncle have told me to tell ye, if ye do plan to take me to the loch, like I made them believe, that ye are free to take me to yer secret cove.” She smiled at his wide eyes and slightly slack mouth. “They said yer brother told them about it a long time ago.”
