Page 44 of Highlander's Battle of Hearts

Chapter Eighteen

Blair

Blair stared at the wall across from her as the memories from the previous night washed over her. She clutched the pillow to her cheek. Her bottom lip quivered as she recalled the way Aindreas held her on the horse, the way his lips felt against hers, his soft caresses. Tears escaped her red and swollen eyes. She hadn’t slept more than an hour. Dark circles hung under her eyes, making them appear sunken. She knew she should get some sleep, at least another hour, yet Aindreas haunted her dreams.

Sunlight streaked through the room, lighting the wall in front of her, announcing the day had begun, yet she didn’t rise. She didn’t think she could. Her heart was broken, shattered into tiny little shards, and she didn’t think she could pick up the pieces.

Foolish, that was exactly how she acted. Foolish to think Aindreas could ever care for her. His words were nothing but lies, like the snake in the garden of Eden, enticing her to take a bite from something she could never possess. If the soldier hadn’t stopped them, if he hadn’t announced Sorcha and her father’s presence in the castle, what would have happened?

Blair’s heart fluttered, remembering his lips on hers, his tongue stroking her fires, tempting the flames within her. His knee had pressed against her core. Her legs had tightened around him, wanting more. Her body shivered at the memory, her belly tightened. Her frown deepened, and she cursed herself for still feeling whatever it was she felt for Aindreas. He had hurt her in the most terrible way imaginable. He had made her believe they could be together, that he had affections for her.

She should feel nothing for him, she thought while punching her mattress. Her fist released, and a sob escaped her lips. Quickly, she wiped the tears away. She needed to get up. Laird MacBean would be wondering where she was if she didn’t arrive soon. She needed to give him his tea. He would probably want to know how her time in town went.

She grimaced, remembering the brigands and how they had chased her through the alleys. If it wasn’t for Aindreas, she didn’t know what they would have done to her or where she would be now. Her brow furrowed, wondering why Aindreas hadn’t been in the square at the time she was told. They hadn’t talked about it on the ride back, yet obviously, there was some miscommunication. She wondered for a moment why Lady Alisa needed to leave so quickly.

Blair shook her head, deciding she didn’t want to ask Aindreas nor Lady Alisa. She couldn’t ask Aindreas now after their argument from last night, and Lady Alisa would admonish her for her curiosity.

Blair pushed herself out of bed, throwing the blankets off her before pressing her bare feet onto the cool, stone floor. A chill went through her, and she rushed towards her trunk, slipping on her shoes while gathering a garment from the large wooden chest. Her gaze drifted to her dress on the floor, and she clenched her teeth to combat the memories rushing back to her. She had been in such a rush to get into bed she had left her dress crumpled on the floor. The garment was completely wrinkled. Dirt marred its front from falling onto the ground in town.

She grabbed the garment, holding it up to her nose and inhaling deeply. Aindreas’s scent still lingered there. A whimper escaped her, and she shoved the fabric into the trunk before grabbing a simple brown dress and slamming the lid closed.

Shoving her body into the dress, she cursed Aindreas, wishing she had never come into contact with the laird’s son. She grabbed a red and blue plaid scarf and wrapped it around her shoulders before striding towards the door. Taking a deep breath, she forced a smile while unlocking the door and stepping forth.

She stopped as her gaze fell on a small black pouch resting on the floor right outside her chamber, tied with white ribbon in a sloppy bow. Blair slowly kneeled, her fingers gently grabbing the bag. She inhaled deeply, smelling soil and something herbal. Upon opening the ribbon, she noticed the inside was filled with something green and leafy. Her eyes widened as she realized it was peppermint, the scent of it assaulting her nose. There was a small, white note attached to the ribbon with her name written in black ink:

Blair,

I hope you may find some use for this. I heard it’s good in a tea when the cough has taken hold of you.

-Aindreas

Blair scowled, grasping the pouch tightly and stalking back inside her room. Aindreas believed he could buy her forgiveness with peppermint, she thought while searching her room for something, anything. She wanted to stomp on the pouch, send it back to him, throw it out the window in the hopes the herbs landed on his head.

But she did none of those things.

Blair’s shoulders slumped. She was such a fool. How could ruining a gift help her in this situation? She sniffed and wiped her eyes, inhaling the scent of peppermint deep into her lungs. How could herbs mend her broken heart? She felt as though she would never feel whole again, as if her world was torn to pieces.

She closed her eyes while allowing the pouch to drop from her hand onto the small table in the middle of the room. Breathing was difficult. All she wanted to do was remain in her quarters and cry; cry until the sun fell and the moon rose once more. Cry until she was completely dry and could no longer cry anymore. She didn’t think she could get through this day, especially if she ran into Aindreas.

But she had to.

Blair wiped her eyes and straightened herself. She strode out the door, shutting it quietly before walking briskly towards the laird’s room. The corridors were busy with servants running past, possibly cleaning the rooms for Laird MacBean’s guests. She felt curious glances fall on her but thankfully did not hear any of their whispering and giggles.

“Ah, there ye are, Blair,” came Laird MacBean’s rasping voice as soon as she entered.

Blair paused at the door, slowly closing it and frowning at the smell of iron filling the room. Something was wrong. Her gaze fell on the bloodied cloth in the laird’s hand. Gasping, she rushed towards him, watching briefly as Laird MacBean tried to hide the evidence.

“Yer getting worse,” she said while snatching the cloth from his hands.

Laird MacBean wiped the sweat dripping from his brow. He shook his head slightly. “Twas expected,” he muttered. His brow furrowed and his hand lifted, lightly stroking her hair away from her face. “Have ye been crying?”

Blair turned away from him, busying herself with a pitcher of water at the table rather than wondering about the care and worry in his voice. “Of course not,” she said, grimacing at the lie and the obvious tremble in her voice. “It must be the light. It’s quite dim in here.” She forced a smile while turning around and handing him the cup of water. “I told ye, ye need a bit more sunlight if ye want to get healthy.”

Laird MacBean sipped at the water, his gaze never leaving her. “A trick of the light, ye say?” He peeked over her shoulder, and Blair flushed, now realizing the window was indeed open, letting in as much sunlight as possible.

“Well, I—“

“Nevermind,” said Laird MacBean while rising from his bed. He placed the cup next to the pitcher and straightened his shoulders. “I have a meeting with Laird Cambel.” He turned around, reaching a hand towards her. “Join me, will ye?”

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