Page 89 of Captured By the Cruel Highlander
He stepped toward her, wary of the tears in her eyes. He hated seeing them, wanting to wipe them away forever. He reached in his pocket, pulling out the signet ring and holding it out to her.
“It is yers. Ye can return it to him when we defeat that bastard.”
Emily hesitated but eventually took the ring from his outstretched palm. The same flicker of pleasure erupted across his skin as her fingers touched his palm, and Adam couldn’t help the gasp that escaped his lips. He hadn’t expected to feel her touch again.
Emily snatched her hand back as though scalded. “I suppose ye expect me to thank ye,” she muttered.
“I dinnae expect anythin’ from ye, lass.”
He had meant it kindly, intending to reiterate his earlier promise that she was not irrevocably tied to him, that she could enjoy herfreedoms now she was his wife. But Emily’s eyes narrowed at his words, and her lips pressed together into a thin line.
“Aye, ye dinnae need to remind me,” she said harshly and wrenched open the door, before entering the library and closing it gently behind her.
Adam stared at the handle, wanting to follow her and promise her the world so that she would stop hating him. He stood in the corridor for a long time, his thumb idly rubbing where her fingers had touched his palm.
I dinnae believe she will ever forgive me.
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Emily leaned against the door, listening to Adam’s soft movements outside.
Eventually, she heard his footsteps move away as though he had been standing there for a long time, considering whether to follow her.
She turned to face the gloomy room before her, looking down at the signet ring in her hand. It was far too big for her little finger, but she placed it on her middle one instead. She hoped that Adam was right and that she would be able to give it back to her father soon.
She glanced about the room warily in case any guards had been posted there too, but it was empty. Reaching into her bodice, she pulled out the papers that she had brought with her. She was unable to stay in her room a moment longer, having gone almost mad with worry since she had left the study.
The library was a safe haven, and with thoughts of her father racing in her mind, she had decided to come here to write the letter that she wished to send to him.
She knew that it was a risk to write to him at all, but having seen what Stewart was capable of, she needed to find out if her father still lived.
He could be dead now, and I wouldnae ken it. Bruce could be dead too.
The thought was an ugly black hole in her chest that she had been unable to ignore. The sight of that finger in the box was going to poison her mind until her final days. She had never been so frightened.
James would not just leave her father alone now that he had hurt him—she was sure of that. He could be torturing him at this very moment. Emily couldn’t bear her spiraling thoughts any longer and walked to the desk on the right side of the room, where a quill and inkwell sat as if waiting for her.
She took a seat, trying to steady her hands before penning the letter, but it still took her three attempts to write ‘Dearest Da’. The tears falling down her cheeks did not help as the words blurred before her eyes.
This is all because of me. I have brought this upon them. If I had simply married James from the start, none of this would have happened.
Or perhaps it would have been even worse.
Adam had said that if she had given in, James could still have killed her family. Maybe he was right. Even if she ran away to find James and ask for his forgiveness, he might still choose to punish her.
It took a long time for her to write the letter. The panic in her heart would not settle, and the words would not flow. She sat there for many minutes, considering simply writing ‘Da, are you alive?’
In the end, dawn was breaking behind her as she finished the final line. The whooshing of the waves outside Freya’s window soothed something inside her.
Freya’s den looked inviting and warm when Emily glanced over at it, and she went to sit by the window. She watched the dawn with the letter clutched in her hand. Spikes of gold, crimson, and pink made their way across the clouds in long delicate streaks.
How can the world be so beautiful when everythin’ is fallin’ apart?
Eventually, she rose and rang the bell for her maid, coming out from behind the shelves only to find the door opening and Lady MacNiall stepping inside.
“I thought I might find ye here,” Lady MacNiall said gently. She closed the door, her face pale and concerned. “How are ye?”
Emily pushed the letter up her sleeve before Adam’s mother saw it and attempted to sound strong when she felt anything but.
