“Burn it?” Mairi repeated, her voice rising once more. “Ye’ve the palate of a mule, Ewan MacLaren, and the sense to match!”
Fiona shook her head with a smile, stepping back as Eloise found herself drawn further into their orbit.
“I would like to help,” Eloise said.
The group came to silence.
“Oh, I am nae sure the Laird would like his betrothed in the dirt,” Fiona warned.
“Then I shall do it all the more,” Eloise teased. The group laughed.
“Here now,” Mairi said, grabbing Eloise’s hand and guiding her toward the rows.
Eloise hesitated only a moment before kneeling in the soil, the earth cool beneath her fingers.
“Like this?” she asked, glancing up uncertainly.
“Aye, that’s it,” Ewan said, nodding with approval. “Though ye’ve softer hands than most, ye’ll have to toughen them if ye mean to keep up.”
“I’ve done harder things than pull carrots,” Eloise replied lightly, though there was truth beneath the words.
Mairi glanced at her sharply, then softened, patting her shoulder. “Aye, I’ve nay doubt of that, lass,” she said.
The three of them worked together, though the bickering never truly ceased. Eloise found herself laughing again, the sound surprising even her as it came easily. For the first time since her arrival, her anxiousness eased, replaced by something lighter, almost safe.
From the battlements, James stood half-shadowed against the stone, his gaze fixed below on the gardens. Eloise moved among the rows beside Mairi and Ewan, her skirts gathered as she knelt in the soil, laughter rising from her, unguarded and free.
It struck him harder than her defiance ever had, that sound, light, unburdened, untouched by the tension she carried within his hall.
“So that’s who ye are when ye forget yerself,” he muttered under his breath.
She glanced up suddenly, as if sensing his watch, and their eyes met across the distance. For a brief moment, neither moved, the air between them taut. Then he turned sharply away, leaving the wall as though the sight had burned him.
Eloise entered James’ study wrapped in a cloak, her expression sharp with irritation and sleep still clinging faintly to her features.
“What is the meanin’ of this? Ye summon me before dawn?” she demanded.
James did not move from where he stood near the table, maps spread before him. “Ye’ll put on somethin’ warmer and more practical,” he said.
She crossed her arms. “And why would I do that?” she pressed.
“Because I told ye to, and ye’ll meet me in the courtyard when ye’re done.”
Eloise stared at him for a moment, “Ye’ve a fondness for commandin’ folk about at ungodly hours,” she muttered.
“And ye’ve a fondness for questionin’ everythin',” he replied without missing a beat.
Her eyes narrowed, but she turned on her heel regardless. “Very well, me Laird,” she said over her shoulder, her tone laced with annoyance. “But if I freeze to death, I’ll haunt ye for it.”
He said nothing, though the faintest hint of amusement touched his expression as she left.
He left his study to wait for her in the courtyard.
Eloise approached in a wool daydress beneath her cloak, gloves pulled tight over her hands, though her expression remained no less guarded. “Now will ye tell me what madness this is?” she asked, stepping toward him.
James gave her a brief glance, then turned toward the open gate. “We’re goin’ beyond the walls,” he said simply.
She blinked at that. “We’re what?”
