Page 65 of The Scot Who Loved Her

Not wanting to lose a chance to make a request he’d been pondering about since last night, Malcolm said, “May I, with your permission, Your Grace, take a bit of leave?”

W grinned, a knowing look on his face. Couldn’t put anything past his superior. He nodded once in sturdy agreement. “I’ve never heard you say that before. And given you’ve worked harder than anyone else on our team, I’d say you earned it.” He glanced at Lorne. “A woman, isn’t it?”

Lorne chuckled.

“Damn, never thought we’d see the day,” W said, an approving shake of his head. “My well wishes. Let me know when you’re ready to return to the field. But do take all the time you need.”

“I will, Your Grace.” An exciting thrill hummed through his veins at the prospect of living a life with Olivia, the one scenario he’d never imagined.

Lorne and Malcolm watched as W took the treasonous threesome away. They had indeed brought a wagon full of weapons, which was apprehended, and the ship was secured with the help of the harbormaster. They’d have their work cut out for them trying to find the missing items sold underground, but at least they’d not lost it all to the sea or France.

“Shall we?” Lorne suggested.

“Aye. This was the easy part.”

“No doubt.”

Though it wasthe middle of the night, Olivia was pacing her bedroom. Her mother had been assigned to watch her so she didn’t leave the house, as she had planned to make an escape and follow Malcolm to wherever he was going. She knew her sister would be there, and she wanted to see for herself that what he said was true.

Lady Helvellyn had been sitting there quietly sobbing for the past hour. Olivia had no idea where her father was, but no doubt wherever that was, he was accompanied by a bottle of brandy. She was surprised he’d not gone with Malcolm; then again, she wasn’t. Her father hated to get his hands dirty. And when he’d thought Marian mad, his first instinct had been to shut her away.

To know she was a traitor to her country was something far worse.

Outside the window, she heard the sound of approaching riders, and her heart did a flip.Malcolm.He was back.

She ran for her bedroom door, surprised at the speed at which her mother reached her, taking her arm.

“They’ve returned, and I’m not going to wait here to find out what happened. You shouldn’t either, Mama.” She gave her mother the sternest expression she could muster.

And right before her eyes, Lady Helvellyn crumpled. As if all the metal she’d had forged to her spine suddenly disintegrated. “All right.” That was the fastest her mother had ever backed down in her life.

Olivia was a little taken aback. Speechless. Motionless.

But then she shook herself out of it, grabbed her mother’s hand and marched her out of the bedroom.

They reached the grand foyer just as Malcolm and his cousin Lorne trudged inside. His eyes searched her out, brightening when he saw her. A mix of relief and—if she wasn’t mistaken—trepidation flashed over his features. With only one false start, he came forward and she to him, though her mother tried to hold her back. Nothing was stopping her from knowing he was safe.

“It’s done,” he said to her, catching her hands in his. But he didn’t look happy. He looked incredibly sad. She’d never seen him look like that before, and it tugged at her heart.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

He nodded solemnly. Then he explained what had happened.

Her mother looked apoplectic, and her father grim. His hair was wild, as if he’d been tugging on it since he heard the news.

“Lord Helvellyn, if I may speak with ye in private?”

Her father nodded, resigned.

The two walked off while Lorne seized his wife, Jaime, into his arms. And the rest of the houseguests, who’d been awake on pins and needles, embraced.

Caroline was leaning heavily onto Paisley’s side, though he was keeping their touch as proper as possible. Olivia wondered if there would be wedding bells heard soon for the two of them.

Olivia attempted to hug her mother, and at first, Lady Helvellyn tried to pull away, but then, the stubborn woman pulled Olivia tight against her, whispering, “I’m sorry, Olivia.”

She was pretty certain she’d never heard her mother apologize. Hadn’t been sure her mother even knew that those two words, “I’m sorry,” could string together to form a sentence. But here they were, and she’d said them.

Olivia hugged her tighter. The rebellious side of her wanted to ask what for, but the gentle side decided that her mother meant for everything, and she’d leave it at that.

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