Page 113 of A Virgin for the Stone Highlander
“Edith.”
Even her name sounded different coming from him now—heavier than the two syllables had any right to be.
“She wants freedom,” he said quietly. “A future. A life beyond these walls.” His gaze fell to the grass beneath his boots. “And I…” A humorless laugh escaped him. “I cannae let her go.”
Scarlett watched him quietly, understanding settling slowly across her features.
“Aaron,” she said gently. “Carin’ for someone isnae the same as trappin’ them.”
“Is it nae?” he scoffed. “Because every time she looks at me, I want more. And since ye arrived, she rarely looks at me anymore.”
The confession hung between them, raw and unguarded.
“’Tis wise for her to avoid me, truly,” he continued. “She deserves better than a man like me, wishing to keep her here when she dreams of a life beyond the Highlands.”
Scarlett sighed, reaching out to rest a hand briefly on his arm. “Or perhaps,” she said softly, “ye deserve someone like her. And she would be lucky to be with someone like ye.”
Aaron closed his eyes briefly, the words landing somewhere he was not prepared for them to land.
Perhaps…
“Are ye happy, Sister?” he asked quietly. “Or have I ruined ye?”
Scarlett’s expression softened. She withdrew her hand from his arm and reached up instead, touching his hair playfully, the wayshe used to when they were children and he had carried her on his shoulders through these very fields.
“Ye havenae ruined anything,” she assured him. “Raisin’ me was the best thing ye ever did, Aaron.” Her smile turned knowing and gentle. “And from what I can see, it seems to be the same for Edith, too.”
She withdrew her hand, whistling so that their horses came running back toward them.
“Come,” she said. “The villagers will start to arrive within the hour, and I willnae have ye smellin’ of horse and stable dust beside me best friend.”
Aaron huffed, though the sound carried no real protest in it.
They turned the horses back toward Hallow. The morning mist had mostly lifted now, the sky brightening steadily overhead.
As they rode, Scarlett glanced at him once more, her expression turning thoughtful. “Aaron.”
“Aye?”
“Has she truly been avoidin’ ye since the fair?”
His jaw tightened. “Aye.”
Scarlett considered this for a long moment, saying nothing until the castle walls appeared ahead of them.
“Perhaps,” she said finally, “she is fightin’ the same war ye are.”
Aaron said nothing to that, though the thought settled in his chest with a weight he could not immediately name, lingering long after they had returned the horses to their stalls and parted ways near the courtyard.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Edith woke before the bells could announce the morning, Aaron’s face lingering in her thoughts.
Her eyes traced the seams of the bed canopy above her as they always did, the familiar stitch pattern offering her no respite from her thoughts.
Heaven help me.
She lay still for a moment, listening for nothing in particular.
