The forest lay quiet beneath a pale morning sky as Eloise walked beside Fiona. Yet Eloise’s thoughts were anything but steady, drifting again and again to the moment in James’s study.
The way he had looked at her, the way the space between them had nearly vanished, it returned unbidden, vivid and unsettling. She felt the warmth rise to her cheeks once more and turned her face slightly away, as though the trees themselves might notice.
“Och, this is foolishness,” she muttered under her breath, though it did little to quiet the memory.
Fiona glanced at her curiously but said nothing at first. “What are we doin’ out here, then?” Fiona asked at last, breaking the silence as they moved deeper into the trees.
Eloise lifted her gaze, her composure returning as she gestured ahead. “Ye’ll see soon enough,” she said lightly, though there was purpose in her tone.
“Ye’ve a way of speakin’ in riddles, miss,” she said with a small smile.
Eloise huffed softly. “Perhaps I’ve spent too much time among Highland lairds,” she replied dryly.
Fiona laughed at that. “Aye, that’ll do it,” she agreed.
They walked on, the path narrowing as the forest thickened around them.
“And how are ye settlin’, truly?” she asked, her tone softer now.
Eloise slowed slightly at the question, her thoughts turning inward despite herself. She had expected fear, discomfort, a sense of being trapped, but instead she had found warmth, laughter, and something far more dangerous…the Laird MacAllister.
Her mind drifted again to James, to his sharp words and steady presence, and the way she now found herself anticipating hiscompany. The realization struck her with quiet force, and she frowned slightly at it.
“I’m settlin’ well enough,” she said at last, her voice measured.
Fiona nodded, clearly pleased by the answer. “That’s good,” she said, her smile brightening. “Since it’ll be yer home for the rest of yer days.”
The words landed heavier than they should have, and Eloise’s steps faltered for just a moment. She forced herself to keep moving, though a faint unease crept in beneath her calm.
This lie sits bitter on me tongue, sharper now than before. These people have shown kindness, have welcomed me without question, and I repay them with deception.
“Aye,” she said quietly, her voice softer than before, “forever.”
Fiona did not seem to notice the shift, though Eloise felt it keenly.
They walked in silence for a time, until a faint fluttering sound reached them from the brush nearby.
Eloise stopped at once. “Do ye hear that?” she asked quietly.
Fiona frowned, stepping closer. “Aye… somethin’s caught,” she said, her gaze scanning the undergrowth.
Together they pushed through the brush until they found it, a small thrush tangled in a hidden snare, its wings beating frantically against the cord.
“Och, poor thing,” Fiona murmured.
Eloise crouched immediately, her hands already reaching toward the trap.
“Careful,” Fiona warned, glancing around. “That’s likely set by one of the hunters, James willnae be pleased if it’s tampered with.”
Eloise did not stop, her fingers working quickly but gently to loosen the cord. “I cannae leave it,” she said firmly. The bird struggled, its tiny body trembling with fear, and Eloise’s brow furrowed with focus.
The snare loosened at last, and with careful hands, Eloise freed the bird from its trap. It sat for a moment in her palms, trembling, its small heart racing beneath her fingers.
“There now,” she whispered, her voice gentler. “Ye’re free.”
She opened her hands slowly, and the thrush hesitated, as though uncertain whether to trust the freedom offered. Then, with a sudden burst, it took flight, disappearing into the trees above. Eloise watched it go.
“I'm going to loosen all the snares,” Eloise said.
