Page 25 of The Son of a Highland Witch
“Please, excuse me,” she murmured, mumbling something about the garderobe, which she hoped would be enough to keep Jamie from following her. Not that he looked as though he was of a mind to. His attention was elsewhere, eyes fastened on one of the serving girls who looked vaguely familiar.
Oh yes. Hike up the lass’s skirts, and Erica would know her anywhere.
She was most definitely going to be sick.
She hastened her departure, so intent on her misery that she almost ran right past the one person she’d been wishing she could talk to all day about this: Finn. He stood in a small sitting room, clearly visible through an open doorway. He stood by the narrow window, looking out with such a look of fierce longing and sadness upon his face that Erica’s steps faltered.
Likely, he wanted to be alone. He certainly didn’t want anything to do with anyone, considering where he was and the way he avoided the others. Even Tomas and Mattie had abandoned him, it seemed; the guards were last been seen drinking their weight in ale with several stalwart companions.
But was she any better? Lately, all she’d done was abandon Trudy. She should have paused to ask the maid to come with her now rather than be wandering around the castle, once again, unescorted.
Which made what she did next entirely too scandalous for words.
“Finn?”
She slipped into the room, her slippered feet whispering against the stone floor, the rustle of her skirt seeming loud within this tiny sanctuary.
“Dinnae…”
What he was going to protest was lost as she flew across the room, until for one glorious moment, she was in his arms, for he could not help but catch her. He clasped her to him with a groan which deepened into a growl of despair as he set her back from him.
“Why did ye agree to the weddin’, lass? After what happened?” he ground out through gritted teeth, his eyes pits of despair in the shadows.
She knew without asking he meant the betrothal and the wedding that was being thrust into tomorrow. There should have been weeks, time during which the banns would be read and the proper time of courting was observed.
“I needed to be done with it. If I must—”
“Ye have a choice, lass!”
“Do I?” she asked softly, stepping toward him until they were a handbreadth apart. Her breathing became shallow as she stood, this time waiting for him to come to her. She begged him silently in her mind to hold her again; those few seconds were nowhere near enough. But he must have been made of sterner stuff than she was, for he only shrank back against the window, keeping a careful distance.
“Delay it. Write to your faither or say ye must return home for some other reason. Find out more about matters before steppin’ yer foot into it.”
“And how would I delay it?” she asked, frustrated by the glimmer of hope which sparked, flamed, and died at his words as she realized it was she who had asked for the wedding to be moved up. She could hardly change her mind at this point.
Finn made a movement toward her, his hand rising and falling. He was at war within himself. She yearned to tell him it was all right, that she felt it too, though she could not put words to the ache within her breast when she looked at him and knew he could never be hers.
“The auld laird…Alastair Buchanan,” he said finally, his voice dropping to a hushed whisper.
She thought about this, trying to see what he did and failing.
“He is still abed,” Finn explained patiently. “Tell them ye cannae marry with the auld laird dying. ’Twould be bad luck. Ye must either wait for him to be well again or for…”
He did not need to speak further.
“How do ye ken he will nae die before I hear back from me faither?” Erica asked, stepping so close now their breaths mingled, though they were careful not to touch.
His eyes were serious. “We don’, lass, but it will earn ye some time to…effect beneficial changes…if they are needed. I need to tell ye something as well. A while ago, Jamie came to me chamber to confront me. He is a madman and dangerous, I believe.”
She swallowed hard, her entire body yearning for him. He protected her. If he dipped his head, they would kiss. This time it was she who turned away first.
They would wait. There was still hope.
* * *
Erica toldthem she must leave and return home before the ceremony was performed. “Alas, I remembered meself of some items with which I cannae live without; I must return home to fetch them at once. ’Twould be bad luck and terrible misfortune for me to begin wedded life without them.”
Jamie and his uncle—or father, whichever title the strange old man wanted to lay claim to—muttered amongst themselves.
