Page 57 of Claimed By a Ruthless Scot
Elaina waited.
“I believe I owe ye an apology fer this morning,” he began.
She lifted a hand gently.
“Please, there is nay need.”
The words surprised him enough that he stopped at once. Elaina met his gaze steadily.
“Ye dinnae owe me an apology.”
Duncan frowned faintly. “I spoke more freely than I intended.”
“Aye,” she said softly.
“And I?—”
She shook her head again. “It must have been painful.”
Duncan fell silent.
“The memory of yer maither,” Elaina continued gently. “Speaking of someone ye loved so much… that is never easy.”
The garden had grown very still around them. For a moment Duncan simply looked at her, as though weighing her words carefully.
“I didnae mean tae burden ye with it,” he offered instead of an apology.
“Ye did nae.” Her voice remained calm and reassuring. “I shared something similar, did I nae?”
He nodded slowly. “Aye.”
“So we both spoke honestly,” she smiled. “There is naething tae apologize fer in that.”
The garden fell quiet again after her words, the evening settling around them like a gentle hush. The last light of day had nearly faded, leaving the herbs bathed in the soft glow from the castle windows.
Elaina watched Duncan carefully. He stood only a few steps away, calm as though he had accepted her reassurance without question. And suddenly, she wondered if she should tell him.
The thought rose so unexpectedly that it startled her.
Tell him everything.
For a fleeting moment, it seemed almost possible. Duncan had trusted her with something deeply personal that morning beneath the hawthorn tree. The memory still lingered between them like an unspoken thread. Honesty deserved honesty in return.
Her heart began to beat a little faster. Elaina lowered her gaze to the lavender stems still resting in her hands, her fingers turning them slowly as she gathered her thoughts.
“Me own maither taught me everything I ken about healing,” she admitted quietly.
Duncan’s attention sharpened at once. “Aye?”
She nodded, still studying the flowers.
“She believed knowledge should be shared freely,” Elaina continued. “Nae guarded or hidden away.”
The words felt strangely heavy on her tongue.
“She would gather herbs in the early mornings,” she continued, despite the pain, “long before the rest of the household woke. I followed her everywhere.”
A faint smile touched her lips as the memory surfaced.
