“He cannae be both freedom and control,” she muttered under her breath.
She found Fiona in one of the weaving rooms, where women sat in rows working wool into thick, warm fabric. The air was filled with the soft rhythm of spinning wheels and the quiet hum of conversation, a domestic peace that felt distant from Eloise’s restless thoughts.
Fiona looked up in surprise as she entered. “Miss Eloise? I didnae expect ye here,” she said, setting her spindle aside.
Eloise hesitated only a moment before stepping inside. “Would ye like to walk with me?” she asked simply.
Fiona blinked, then smiled. “A walk? Aye, of course.”
They left the weaving room together, stepping out into the castle gardens where the air was cooler and open. Flowers bent gently in the breeze, and bees drifted lazily between the blooms.
“Why are we nae walkin' in the forest today?” she asked.
“Because the Laird forbids it,” she said bluntly.
Fiona frowned slightly. “Forbids it?” she repeated.
Eloise nodded. “He says I put meself in danger wanderin' without a guard as escort.”
Fiona considered this for a moment, then nodded slowly. “Aye, well… that is true enough,” she said.
Eloise shot her a look. “I can take care of meself,” she replied firmly.
Fiona smiled faintly, though there was something dreamy in her expression. “That may be so,” she said lightly, “but it’s rather lovely, is it nae? The Laird thinkin' so much of yer safety.”
Eloise blinked, caught off guard by the softness in her tone. “It isnae about love,” she said quickly.
“I didnae say love, I said lovely,” she said. “He’s only protectin’ ye, his bride and all.”
The word “bride” landed oddly, like something placed in the wrong room. Eloise felt heat rise to her cheeks.
For a brief moment, she almost told her the truth. That the engagement was not real in the way Fiona believed. That it was protection, yes, but also strategy, necessity, and something far more tangled than affection. The words rose to her lips, but she swallowed them before they could escape.
Instead, Eloise looked away toward the flowers. “Aye,” she said quietly, forcing the word into place like a mask. “Somethin' like that.”
Fiona smiled warmly, entirely unaware of the fracture beneath Eloise’s calm expression.
“Ye’ll see,” she said softly. “Men like that daenae make such effort unless it means somethin’.”
Eloise let out a faint, humorless breath. “Or unless they think they have the right to,” she murmured, though Fiona did not hear her clearly.
They continued walking through the gardens, but Eloise’s thoughts no longer rested on the flowers or the sun. They circled instead around James, around the way he commanded, the way he protected, and the unsettling possibility that both might feel the same from where he stood.
I wonder if Fiona's version of the truth might be easier to live with than the actual truth.
CHAPTER NINE
Eloise woke the next morning with a restless energy she could not name, as though her thoughts had grown too heavy to sit still inside her. The castle felt too small for the swirl of emotion that followed her from room to room, and so she chose motion instead of reflection. If she could not quiet her mind, she would occupy her hands until exhaustion left her no room to think.
“Keep yerself useful,” she murmured under her breath as she descended the stairs toward the kitchens.
Yet even as she said it, she knew exactly what she was avoiding. James lingered in every pause, every silence, every moment she allowed herself to stand still. She got dressed and made her way through the castle.
Servants bowed to her and the kindness only made her feel sick.
I betray them. We both do. It is nae right. But what am I to do?
She pushed the thought out of her mind and decided she needed good old fashion hard work to keep her occupied. Since she couldn't go into the forest without bringing James' temper onto her, she would find something to do inside the castle.
