There is nae danger right now. Everyone’s in excellent spirits, and nae one is lookin’ me way.
She had been correct in thinking that the festivities would lend her anonymity. If she went through with her plan, she knew she could slip away from Fraser Keep without running into any trouble. She was well enough now that she could hide herself in small spaces, and her stamina had undoubtedly improved.
“Laird Fraser certainly outdid himself this year,” a booming voice said.
“Aye,” a second masculine voice answered, the two of them passing by the alcove where Amelia was hidden. “I daenae ken when the man rests. Just a week and a half ago I saw him in the village west of me property.”
Amelia stepped out, straining her ears to pick up on the rest of their conversation. She was aware that he’d been taking care of things around the land, but she hadn’t given it much thought. Guilt ate at her for not noticing how thin he’d stretched himself.
He carries it well. And I daenae think he wants me to see how tired he is.
She froze for a beat, the realization that he was doing so much more for her than she could see nearly making her knees buckle. As soon as she gained control of herself once more, she scurried toward the stairs. She nearly ran into a maid, murmuring an apology as she walked down the corridor.
“What am I to do?” she asked the woman in the painting across from her door. “I thought that me decision would make more sense as the time approached to execute it, but now, I’m even more confused than ever.”
The canvas stared back at her, unblinking. Even though she was quite aware that the painting wouldn’t truly give her an answer, she’d taken to speaking with it. If she hadn’t told the woman just how hot her body blazed because of Darragh’s touch, she wouldn’t have slept a single wink.
“He’s assistin’ Isla even though the task is beneath him,” she said, shifting from foot to foot. “And I’ve just heard that he’s been ridin’ all over creation for whatever task he’s given himself. I dinnae realize that he’d been doin’ so much.”
She began to pace in the small area in front of the painting. Listening for the approach of anyone else, Amelia shook her hands, dispelling as much nervous energy as she could. It felt as though the woman’s eyes were watching her, weighing the decisions Amelia was making with the unknown choices that she’d made.
“I’ve begun to feel a wee bit… fond of him,” she admitted begrudgingly. She crossed her arms over her chest as shecontinued to take steady steps. Squeezing her elbows as if the gesture could sharpen her mind, she said, “And I want to trust that he’ll protect me, that he’s goin’ to keep me safe.”
A shudder ran through her, as though the very idea of placing herself in someone else’s hands disagreed with her. Taking a deep breath, she pushed that feeling to the side. If her father was looking for her, he was going to find her. She would rather be comfortable as she waited for the inevitable.
And I must give Darragh a chance to prove me wrong. He’s done it before.
Amelia stopped, looking squarely at the painting again. Quietly, she murmured, “But it would be easier to keep all me secrets close to me chest if I were to leave. It would be protectin’ meself.” Her brow furrowed. “Nay… Nay, it would be protectin’him.”
It was Darragh’s voice that said the last part, whispering in her head that she was doing herself more harm than good. He already knew far more than she had ever intended him to. If she continued trying to hide, it would only be offering her father more cover.
“I’ve already endured so much pain for him,” she whispered, taking a step closer to the canvas. “And… and Darragh is offerin’ to shoulder some of it.” Her heart skipped a beat, her breath stuttering. “And Saints… I think I want to let him.”
She sighed, resigned. A bitter smile graced her lips, and the pit in her stomach seemed to stretch deeper, but she understood what she needed to do clearly now.
The only path forward is stayin’ here. It doesnae matter how dangerous what follows may be. I have faced worse alone, I’m sure of it.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Before Darragh even opened his eyes that morning, he could feel the buzzing energy of the keep. It had propelled him out of bed and into his kilt and doublet. As soon as he’d stepped into the corridor, he heard the raucous laughter of his guests.
“Seems everyone’s in high spirits,” Ewan observed as he settled into his chair near Darragh’s. He pulled his plate closer, his gaze fixed on the swell of people in the great hall.
“These men look forward to the hunt every year,” Darragh replied, not paying any mind to the boisterous merriment happening in front of him. There was only one person that he wanted to see, and she was notably absent from the table.
She mustnae be interested in the crowds.
“Ach, ye’re right,” Ewan said with a chuckle, his fork scraping against the porcelain of his platter. “I just daenae remember the congregation bein’ so excitable in years prior.”
Darragh sighed, looking down at his mostly finished plate. He picked up a bannock, sliding it through a puddle of gravy. Before biting into the bread, he said, “Clan Fraser has put on this hunt since we were established. We’ve seen rowdier gatherin’s.”
“Maybeyehave seen somethin’ like this before, but I havenae,” Ewan said, stabbing his empty fork in Darragh’s direction.
“Perhaps,” Darragh said, swallowing his mouthful, “everyone’s in a frenzy. The last year was eventful for more than just our clan. I like to think I’m givin’ all of these men a healthy outlet for that energy.”
Ewan chewed thoughtfully, and this time Darragh followed his line of sight. The fox hunt was more than just a hunt. Old allies were greeting each other while new alliances were forming at the table next to them. When he was a young boy, his father had impressed upon him the importance of meeting with peers—even the peers he didn’t get along with.
It’s best ye ken the beast to keep it from bitin’ ye.
