He studied her, something like regret flickering in his eyes. “I havenae made it easy for ye,” he said quietly.
She let out a soft, breathless laugh, though there was no humor in it. “That is one way to say it,” she murmured.
He stepped closer then, his voice lowering. “I have failed in more ways than one,” he admitted. “I was meant to keep distance, to protect ye without… complicatin' matters.”
His gaze dropped briefly, then returned to hers with quiet intensity. “But I cannae seem to keep me hands off ye,” he said, the confession raw and unguarded.
Eloise’s breath caught, heat rising to her cheeks despite the heaviness of the moment.
Her heart pounded as she stood there, caught between what she knew and what she felt. The space between them felt smaller, not wider, their truths drawing them closer rather than apart. And yet, neither of them moved to close it completely.
“James…” she said as she touched his arm.
He pulled away from her. “Nay, daenae touch me like so. I willnae be able to control meself. I have drank much this night. Go,” he said.
“But James…” she whispered.
“I said go,” he said as he opened the door to the study and gestured for her to leave.
Eloise felt the hurt pass through her. She narrowed her eyes and him and marched out the door.
As she walked slowly through the dim corridor, the distant echoes of laughter and music drifted faintly from the great hall behind her. The ceilidh had reached its peak, the castle alive with drink and dance, yet she felt removed from it all, as though she moved through a dream.
Her thoughts lingered on James, on the grief in his voice when he had spoken of his sister, and the guilt that seemed to chain him even now.
She pressed her hand to her chest, unsettled by how deeply his pain had affected her, and how his pushing her out the door broke her. “Oh, what have ye done to me heart?” she murmured softly to herself.
The words felt foolish, yet they rang true in the quiet of the stone passage.
She reached her chamber door and pushed it open, stepping into the dim glow of dying candlelight. The room was nearly dark, the hearth embers faint and the air cool against her skin. She moved toward the table to relight a candle when a sudden shift in the shadows made her freeze.
Before she could turn, strong hands seized her arms from behind.
“What?” she gasped, struggling as panic surged through her.
A chair scraped loudly across the floor, toppling over as she twisted, and a glass shattered somewhere near her feet as she grappled with the strong force.
“Hold her,” came a voice, cool, familiar, and laced with something cruel.
Eloise’s breath caught as she was forced to still, her eyes darting wildly until they landed on the figure stepping forward into the low light.
“Mairead…” she whispered, disbelief and fury tangling in her chest.
Mairead's face was composed, almost serene, but her eyes gleamed with something darker. Eloise’s heart began to pound violently.
“What are ye doin'?” she demanded, her voice trembling despite her effort to steady it.
Mairead tilted her head, a slow smile curving her lips. “Did ye truly think I would step aside so easily?” she said softly.
Eloise stared at her, trying to make sense of the words, but dread was already creeping into her bones.
“I thought the poison would be enough,” Mairead continued. “But ye proved more stubborn than I gave ye credit for.”
Eloise’s eyes widened, her breath catching sharply. “Ye?” she hissed, anger flaring through her fear. “Ye tried to kill me?”
A soft laugh escaped Mairead, light and chilling. “Nay, I tried to remove an obstacle,” she corrected smoothly. “Ye were never meant to remain here, Eloise.”
Eloise struggled again, her pulse racing as realization struck.
