Page 21 of The Son of a Highland Witch
Jamie smiled when he saw her. “My lady!” he exclaimed as he approached. “’Tis a convenient thing to find ye here. Uncle.” He nodded amicably to the other man.
Erica’s eyes widened. Uncle? Surely the old laird was upon his deathbed from what she had heard. This man was as hale and hearty as a man half his age.
Jamie must have seen her confusion because he chuckled. “There were three brothers,” he said by way of explanation. “The auld laird is the eldest brither. Me own faither, Brennan, died when I was but a lad. Uncle Robert here be the youngest.”
His explanation only seemed to confuse things further with Erica’s way of thinking. Surely Robert should have been the next laird, not Jamie? To bypass him entirely, taking his other brother’s son as the heir was a serious matter and spoke of conflict within the family. Such things led to wars, Erica knew. Many a clan had broken over such a matter.
“She be a pretty thing,” Robert said to his nephew, his eyes not having left Erica once. She shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.
“I was just looking for some of the ladies,” Erica murmured, hoping to make her escape. “I thought to find some company…”
“Would I not suffice?” Jamie asked, a smile spreading over his face quite different from the one he’d greeted her with. “I daresay we could find some way to pass the time.”
“I dinnae blame ye, lad; she is a pretty piece,” Robert said, nudging his nephew. “I would nae mind joining ye.”
To her surprise, Jamie only laughed at this appalling suggestion.
Cheeks burning, Erica bobbed a quick curtsy. “I must… I will see ye at dinner. My…my lairds Buchanan.”
Almost blindly, Erica fled, not even entirely sure where she was going. Her footsteps against the stone floor sounded loud in her ears as she hurried away, drowning out whatever was said as she took her leave. She walked quickly, so blinded by tears that she didn’t even see the person she crashed into until large hands reached to steady her, saving her from a nasty fall down the stairs.
“Erica?”
Blinking rapidly, she lifted her head to see Finn looking down at her in concern, his mouth compressed in a grim line. In that instant, she knew he’d heard the entire exchange, the shameful comments, the laughter. Likely he had been hurrying away as well. Whether to keep from shaming her further or to keep from becoming involved in something which did not concern him, she did not know. Likely the former, she decided, given the look in his eyes as he looked down upon her.
“I must…” she said vaguely, gesturing toward the stairs which led to the safety of the great hall. There she would find people, some of the other ladies perhaps. There had to be females somewhere in this awful place, where she could hide, safe from—
Safe from the man who would be her own husband?
“I will take ye down,” Finn said, and she knew that she had been right. The very fact he was the one to escort her was as much a declaration for her as anything. He was not afraid of Jamie, nor likely anyone else. Had she not speculated upon the stories surrounding him and already determined his mettle from their first encounter?
At her nod, Finn’s arm curved around her waist as they descended the stairs. If there was something possessive in the gesture, maybe it was because she wanted it to be so. The warmth of his arm across the small of her back gave comfort and reassurance…and something else. Something that burned through her at his touch made her wonder if he’d been the one to suggest they pass the afternoon together what her response might have been.
Mercifully, his arm fell away as they reached the bottom of the stairs. He bowed and turned to take his leave, and, almost frantically, she reached for him, staying his departure.
“The ladies’ solarium…?” she asked, not so much because she still desired to go there, but rather to keep him from leaving her just yet. “Perhaps ye could…”
If he knew her thoughts, he gave no sign. He only nodded and, tucking her hand in the crook of his arm as though it belonged there naturally, took her through a door and through another hall she hadn’t visited before.
The silence between them held too much unsaid. More to fill up the space, she spoke quickly, seizing upon the first thought which came into her head.
“The man with…the laird’s proxy. Jamie’s uncle Robert. He is not a laird?”
“Nay. Though he could have been. Should be, I mean.” He stopped, drawing her to an alcove to sit after a wary glance about to make sure they were alone. “Ye need to ken the ways of this place. The Buchanan, the auld laird, is named Alastair. He is a harsh man, but fair. He never did like Robert, the youngest Buchanan brither, nor thought him the right man to rule the clan.” He grimaced. “In truth, ’twas a feeling shared by many here. When it became apparent Laird Alastair would nae sire a son, he knew ’twould tear the clan asunder to leave things as they were. When he took the middle brither’s son in, young Jamie, Laird Alastair Buchanan made the lad his ward, declaring him to be his heir. Robert has nae forgiven him for that.”
“Yet he and Jamie seem to get along well enough,” Erica said, shivering as she remembered the way both men had looked at her.
Finn’s countenance was grim. “I would nae trust either of them,” he advised, rising and offering her his hand. He nodded toward a far door. “The ladies are sewing there.” He hesitated. “I would nae walk about the castle alone, my lady. ’Tis not…safe.” With that, he bowed and went back the way they had come.
“But I am to be lady here…” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.
But he was too far away to hear. Not that it mattered.
