“Ach, they’re only laughin’ because they used to think the same way ye did,” Mrs. Rowan said, her brow softening fondly. “Ye’ll look back on this one day and laugh as well.”
“I find that difficult to believe,” Isla huffed. It looked as though the only thing stopping her from crossing her arms over her chest and stomping her foot was the basket. Hazel had begun filling it once more. “If anythin’, I’ll be even more frustrated that this issue wasnae just explained to me. I’m nae a child.”
“Of course,” Mrs. Rowan said, shaking her head. “We’ll let ye observe how we handle the men we see today. I think ye’ll have a better understandin’ of why these two couldnae justtellye about how men behave.”
Isla stared at Mrs. Rowan, seeming to weigh the woman’s professional standing with her own dislike of being relegated to the sidelines. Finally, she relented and said, “Fine. I’ll observe, but I’d like to be allowed to assist.”
“We’ll need yer hands,” Mrs. Rowan assured her. Then, she grabbed something from her apron and pressed it into Amelia’s hands without looking away from Isla. “I need ye to take this to the Laird now, lass. He forgot his lucky satchel again.”
Amelia ran her fingertips over the smooth leather, worn to delightful softness from years of use. As soon as she fully processed the request, her stroking motion stilled. She couldn’t leave the comfort and warmth she found in the kitchen, but she couldn’t deny this request, not without having to answer questions she wasn’t ready to hear.
So, she closed her fingers around the satchel and nodded. Then, because she didn’t trust her voice not to crack and give away the storm of emotions that was roving through her body, she turned around and left without another word. The further she moved away from the kitchens, the louder the voices of the men gathered in the courtyard grew.
A knot tightened in her chest. It was held together with fear, anger, anxiety, and something that she couldn’t explain as anything other thananticipation. Shifting the satchel to her other hand, Amelia wiped away the sweat from her palm.
All I have to do is find Darragh and give him the satchel. Then I can return to the kitchen. Or me quarters. At least until the lairds leave the keep’s walls.
Chapter Thirty-One
Resting his hand upon his browbone, Darragh looked over the courtyard, walking through effortlessly. Even more riders had joined the troop, their horses restless beneath the bright banners and polished saddles. It wouldn’t be long until they were truly off.
“This is the first time ye’re takin’ this saddle out for somethin’ other than drills,” he observed, walking forward with the authority of a man who’d been attending this hunt for as long as he’d been able to ride on his own.
Without waiting for a response, Darragh expertly ran his fingers along the saddle, checking its fit before patting the mare’s neck softly. When he stepped away, he said, “I’ve high expectations for ye. This will be yer first time leadin’ men durin’ the great hunt. Ye’re more than ready for it.”
“Aye, Me Laird,” the captain replied, raising his chin with quiet pride at having earned Darragh’s praise. “I willnae disappoint ye.”
The chaos of the moment had died down significantly since Darragh had locked the tension of his exchange with Ewan into the back of his mind. He’d become an expert at diffusing tense situations. While fights weren’t about to break out, he’d seen what unresolved energy could do. His job at the moment was to keep collisions as they went through the gate to a minimum.
He completed his rounds just before the final horns sounded. Positioned near the gate, he turned back to survey the gathering. Several men had mounted their steeds, and others were doing final checks of their tack. And walking between them carefully, her shoulders tight and her movements stiff, was Amelia.
She’s much closer than I imagined she’d let herself get.
“Amelia,” he said when she was close enough that he didn’t have to shout to be heard.
When their eyes met, he was transported back to the attic. Her lips against his, the way she pressed closer to him with each breath she took, the way she let him touch her…
“Will ye ride today?” he asked, the first to recover, his voice calm though he searched her slow, jerky movements forward.
Amelia shook her head, finally coming to a stop in front of him. “Nay. I prefer ridin’ on me own.” She looked down at something small and black in her hands. “Or… with certain company. But I’m quite particular.”
“Is that so?” he asked, ducking slightly to catch her eye. There was a flush over the bridge of her nose, but she refused to show any other signs of how flustered she was. “What is it that ye’ve got there?”
“It’s the reason I’ve ventured this far out,” Amelia replied, holding out the satchel.Hissatchel. “Mrs. Rowan handed it to me, and I decided that I couldnae deprive ye of yer lucky charm on the day of the hunt.”
There’s so much more she’s nae sayin’.
Slowly, Darragh reached forward to accept the pouch. Their fingers brushed, the touch lingering as lightning crackled between them. After a beat, he drew the pouch back, looking down at it. For once, he wasn’t sure what to say, trying to measure the emotions underlying Amelia’s every shift and sigh.
“That sounds surprisingly responsible,” he said finally, tucking the satchel into his saddle bag.
Amelia’s shoulders seemed to be a little lighter when he returned his attention to her. She was still alert, her body refusing to relax around the chaos. As if trying to get away from the crowd, she took a step closer to him, igniting the tension that was now familiar between them.
“I am full of surprises,” she said, her eyes flicking to where he’d just tucked the sachet away.
The hum of suppressed emotion seemed only to grow louder. It might as well have been a physical thing tethering them together. The silence that they maintained was loud, a voice whispering that what they’d left unfinished was dangerous.
I cannae take this any longer.
