Page 59 of The Laird's Masked Desire
The voice was achingly familiar. Her heart leapt. From between the trees stepped a hooded figure, slight and wrapped in travel-worn cloth. The hood lifted just enough to reveal a face she knew better than her own, then it slipped down again.
“Eleonor,” Margaret breathed.
Her sister’s eyes shone in the dim light, bright with relief and disbelief all at once.
“I thought I heard ye,” Eleonor whispered, breaking into a smile that wavered as it formed.
Margaret crossed the distance in three strides and caught her sister in her arms, holding her tightly, as though she might vanish if released.
“Ye’re safe,” Margaret said, the words tumbling out in a rush. “Ye’re truly safe.”
Eleonor laughed softly against her shoulder in a sound that was half-sob. “I am. I swear it.”
They did not linger in the open. Margaret drew Eleanor gently toward the shelter of the trees, where the branches knit overhead. Thomas shifted farther back, giving them privacy, yet his presence was still felt, if not seen.
They stood close with their foreheads nearly touching and their voices lowered to breath.
“Ye’re all right,” Margaret whispered again, as though the words needed repeating to become true. “I was so afraid…”
Eleonor squeezed her hands. “I ken, I felt it too. Every mile away from ye felt wrong.” She swallowed. “We heard rumors… of what happened… is it true? I feared I’d broken yer life in two.”
“Ye saved it,” Margaret murmured. “Or gave it a chance, at least.”
Eleonor searched her face, eyes shining in the half-light. “Is he… kind?”
Margaret hesitated, then nodded. “He is… formidable. And fair. And more careful with me than he has any reason to be.”
Relief softened Eleonor’s shoulders. “Then I can breathe.”
They spoke quickly then, whispers tumbling over one another. Margaret told her of Inveraray, of the tightening watches, the healer’s fever, the herbs gathered at dawn, the letter bearing their father’s seal. Eleonor listened with her hand pressed to her mouth and her eyes dark with worry.
“And ye?” Margaret asked. “Tell me everything.”
Eleonor glanced toward the road, then back. “We did it quietly….” A faint smile trembled onto her lips. “I am married woman, Maggie.”
The words struck like sunlight.
“Ye are?” Margaret breathed, joy flaring hot and sudden. She caught Eleonor’s face between her hands, thumbs brushing away dampness at the corners of her eyes. “Oh, me sweet Nell…”
Eleonor nodded, laughing softly through tears. “Three days past. He’s good tae me. He keeps watch as though the world might steal me away if he blinks.”
Margaret hugged her again, breathing in the familiar scent of her sister. “I’m so glad,” she whispered. “So very glad.”
They held each other there, swaying slightly, listening to the forest murmuring around them. A bird was startled into flight. Somewhere water ran over stone. The world kept moving, heedless and kind.
“We’re nae far from here, ye ken,” Eleanor suddenly said. “There’s a croft, tucked against the rise near the old sheep road. A few hours’ ride, nay more. His kin own it, and they are quiet folk. We’re staying there until the situation settles down.”
Relief loosened something deep in Margaret’s chest. “That close?”
Eleonor nodded. “Close enough tae run if we must, and far enough nae tae be found by accident.”
They clasped hands again, intertwining their fingers.
“I’ll send letters,” Eleonor continued. “Nae often, only when it’s safe. And we can meet again, if the roads allow it. This neednae be the last time.”
Margaret smiled, feeling overwhelmed by the possibility. “Nay. It willnae be.”
Eleonor studied her for a moment, then said softly. “Ye should tell him.”
