Page 45 of The Highlander's Captured Bride
“What dae ye ken then?” Violet asked. “If it so close…are we looking at a servant or visitor, perhaps?”
“He asked me that question and I swore on me soul that nay one of me servants would dae something like this and the only visitor I’ve have in me castle is me brother who is nay much a visitor as he does live here, however temporarily,” the Liard clarified. “I have to believe it is some mischief-maker from Clan Hofte and the sooner we find who it is, the sooner he can be punished and life can move on.”
Violet saw his jaw tick, as if he were saying,I wish it could be so easy.
“I understand,” Ethan said. “What dae ye want me, us, to dae in yer absence?”
“Just keep to the castle and I ken all should be well,” his father said. “The guards are stationed at every nook and cranny just in case anyone might even ken of starting trouble. If we dae find this culprit at Clan Hofte, be assured, he will be paying for it.”
His tone was not comforting, and Violet hid a shudder as she scooted nearer to Ethan. His presence was calming, comforting, and his solidity smoothing over her with a soothing balm.
“When are ye leaving?” Ethan asked.
“Laird Hofte sent back his reply an hour ago. So I ken we should leave soon so we can avoid coming back in the night,” the Laird said. “We have four soldiers to go with us and back. I ken we will be all right. And aye, before ye say anything, Ethan, I will be tactful in me query, nay aggressive accusations or anything of the sort.”
He let out an audible breath of relief, “I kent ye would be taken Uncle with ye as he is good at diffusing tension and maneuvering through such delicate matters with more finesse that ye have.”
“I would have taken him if he was here,” the Laird noted with a roll of his eyes. “But, again, he is off chasing down something from the East or some tradesman with his African trade ship, or something of the sort. Ye ken his words go over me ahead at times, but he’s gone, so he won’t be a part of this.”
“I wish ye the best,” Ethan said as he stood to shake Violet’s father’s hand and embrace his own.
As the two men left the room, Violet began to debate with herself. She did not want to let the suppositions fester and sour her spirit anymore so she sucked in a deep breath, “Mister MacTyre told me ye once courted a Queen’s handmaid, is it true?”
He spun towards her and his face was tight and guarded. “What?”
Her fingers were in grabbing her skirt tightly as something both alarming and agonizing chased over Ethan’s features, showing Violet that she was probably picking at an old sore. His firming fist at his side and the sudden rigidity of his body made her want to take back her words and wipe them from his memory.
“Why would ye dae that?” he asked calmly but the cold and angry undertones were hard to dismiss.
She was on her feet in a heartbeat, “I dae regret what I—” she reached out to him but he shifted away. The move had pain ricocheting through her. A dagger to her heart probably would have hurt less. “—we were talking about yer time in the ranks and I felt that ye were leaving something out. I only asked about yer time with the soldiers and he was the one who told me about her on his own.”
“Doesnae matter,” he snapped. “Maria was a part of me past, and ye have nay right to—” he shut his mouth and his jaw worked. “Excuse me, I cannae talk about it with ye.”
Without a word, he spun and strode out and she sank back to the chair and folded her hands on her lap. Eyes clenching tight, she bit back a sob. She should have never even asked those questions but then her fear felt realized. This Maria still held a part of Ethan’s soul, either she had hurt him so badly that he could not speak of it or he was still in love with her.
Whatever it was, she was on the losing side of his emotions. Pressing the heels of her hands on her burning eyes, she sucked in deep breaths, hoping to stifle her burgeoning cry. When she did feel like her eyes were not burning and her breath was not heaving so much, she stood and hurried back to her rooms. At least there, she would have the privacy to cry.
She locked the door. She took her shoes off and curled up on the bed with her back to the wall. Her hand was curled to her face just in case her tears began to flow. She had hurt Ethan and she did not know how to mend it. He was still hurting; she could see and feel it but there were not enough words to apologize to him with.
I’m so sorry Ethan…I dinnae mean to hurt ye even more with all that’s going on.
Mired in her regret, she did not notice the time passing by and the day dimming from light to dusk. When a gust of night air came in, she darted up in surprise. Blinking the sleep from her eyes, she sat up and decided that the only thing she could do was to seek out Ethan and apologize. Hearsay is not a good way to start a discussion.
The Laird and her father should have been back by then, and she wanted to know what they had learned from Clan Hofte. Was it too late though? Slipping her shoes on, she went to the door and was reaching out, only for her to hear it thud lightly.
Jerking her hand back in fright, she looked around the room for a weapon in case an unwanted visitor was about to barge into her room but found only an iron candlestick. Grasping it, she edged closer to the door only to have the thud turn into a slide, as if someone’s back was against it.
Completely bewildered, Violet reached out to the handle only to hear Ethan’s voice come through it. “She said I was toocountryfor her…”
What? What on earth is he talking about?
It took her a moment to realize he was speaking about this Maria woman, who had hurt him back in the university. She put the candlestick back and after turned around to slid to the floor. With her back braced on the door, she asked, “Why?”
“Because I was a country boy, born and raised,” his tone was bitter. “I had little knowledge of how those in the city acted and went about their business. Soon enough I found that me accent was too crass and me words unrefined. Naything I did measured up to city standards but stubborn me tried me luck anyway. I did away with me kilts and gillies for knee-breeches, boots, and waistcoats. Changed me great kilt for a woolen cloak, and nearly exchanged me sanity for a woman who was far above me reach.”
Oh, how her heart ached for him, and she wished the door between them was not there so she could touch him, embrace him,anything.The pain, she heard in his voice called for comfort. But before she could do something, she had to allow him to exorcise the demons from his soul.
“The tipping point came one night, two years in, when I decided she would accept me or nay. She looked me right in me eyes and in the sweetest voice told me that there could never be anything between us,” a small thud had her imagining that he had laid his head back on the door and then she heard a small disparaging laugh, “Told me I’d never survive a day in the city with all me virtuous Highland morals and values. That I’d have to break the rules and dae some underhanded things to get anywhere in the city and that, if I continued with me virtuousness, I would be taken advantage of without mercy.”
