The words settled heavily between them, and James felt a flicker of unease.
“Then we proceed as planned,” he said, though his voice lacked conviction.
Beside him, Eloise’s hand tightened slightly around her cup, and he noticed it despite himself. He reached for his goblet, their fingers brushing briefly in the motion, and the contact sent a jolt through him that he masked with a steady expression. She pulled her hand away at once, her posture stiffening.
“Forgive me,” he said quietly, though he wasnae certain for what. She didn't answer.
Before the tension could deepen, Mairead’s voice rose above the hall, clear and bright.
“If I may have yer attention,” she called, drawing all eyes toward her.
James’s gaze snapped toward her, unease prickling along his spine.
What is she doing now?
She stood near the center of the hall, her smile radiant, her composure flawless.
“We have a special treat this evenin',” she continued. “Miss Eloise has agreed to grace us with music.”
James stilled, his eyes darting to Eloise as she went rigid beside him. Shock flashed across her face as she looked at him, and for once, he had no answer to give her.
“What is this?” he muttered under his breath, anger stirring.
Servants moved at once, carrying in a harp that caught the light with a familiar gleam.
James’s breath hitched as recognition struck him.
Jenny’s harp.
The memory of his sister rose sharp and vivid, her laughter, her music filling these very halls. His anger flared now. He glanced at Eloise, expecting refusal, protest, but instead she rose. Her smile was careful, composed, though he could see the tension in her shoulders.
“Very well,” she said softly, her voice steady despite the surprise.
The hall fell silent as she stepped forward, her hands settling upon the strings with a grace that drew every eye. James watched, his anger still burning, but something else stirred beneath it as the first notes filled the air. The melody was soft, haunting, carrying a quiet strength that held the room captive.
Eloise played with confidence, her expression serene, her presence commanding in a way he hadn't expected. And as he watched her, the memory of Jenny shifted, no longer sharp with grief but softened by something gentler.
This wasn't a theft of memory, it was a continuation, a new life breathed into something once lost.
The anger faded into something far more complicated. The music swelled, rich and full, and he found himself leaning forward slightly, unable to look away.
“God help me,” his heart pounding with something dangerously close to awe.
When the final note lingered and faded, the hall erupted into applause, cheers rising in celebration. James joined them, his hands striking together in firm, steady rhythm.
But even as he clapped, something within him shifted too deeply, too suddenly for him to contain. Before Eloise could return to her seat, he rose abruptly, the motion drawing a few curious glances. Without a word, he turned and strode from the hall, the noise fading behind him as he sought the quiet of the corridor. He didn't stop walking until the doors closed behind him, the echo of the music still lingering in his mind.
Pressing a hand to the wall, he exhaled sharply, his composure cracking beneath the weight of it all.
“Jenny, I wronged ye.”
Eloise hurried through the corridors, the echo of the harp still ringing faintly in her ears as unease pressed against her chest. She had seen the way James left, abrupt, shaken.
When she reached his study, she didn't hesitate, pushing the door open and stepping inside. He stood near the window, his back to her, shoulders rigid as though bracing himself against something unseen.
“Why did ye leave?” she asked, her voice cutting through the silence. “Ye are the Laird, people are expectin' ye.”
He didn't turn at once, his hand braced against the stone wall.
