Mairead’s eyes widened in horror. “Ye cannae do this to me!” she cried.
“I can,” James replied without hesitation, his voice hard. “And I ken yer father well. He is an honorable man, and he will be ashamed of what ye’ve done.”
Mairead’s gaze snapped to Eloise then, her expression twisting with bitterness. “This is all yer fault,” she spat.
Eloise felt something shift inside her, the last remnants of doubt burning away as she lifted her chin.
“Nay,” she said firmly, stepping forward. “This is nay one’s fault but yer own.”
Mairead recoiled slightly, stunned into silence.
“Ye act like a child,” Eloise continued, her voice cutting, each word deliberate. “And now ye will be treated like one, locked away because ye couldnae govern yer own behavior.”
Mairead’s lips trembled, anger and humiliation warring in her eyes. “Ye think ye are better than me?” she hissed.
Eloise met her gaze without flinching. “I think I would never stoop so low as to betray those who gave me shelter,” she said coolly. “Ye lived under his roof, had his trust, and still it wasnae enough for ye.” Her voice hardened further. “Nay wonder he didnae choose ye.”
The words struck their mark, and Mairead let out a broken, furious cry, rising from her chair in a storm of rage. “I was meant to be his!” she shouted, her composure unraveling completely. “It was supposed to be me!”
James stepped between them and gave Mairead a look that made her stop. “That is enough,” he said.
Eloise said nothing more, though her heart pounded in her chest, the force of her own words echoing in her mind. She had not known she possessed such fire, such certainty, but now that it had come forth, she could not deny it.
Eloise felt James grab her hand. He led her toward the door.
Mairead’s voice rose again behind them, wild and desperate, but James did not look back. He led Eloise from the room, the door closing heavily behind them, cutting off the sound of Mairead’s fury.
Out in the corridor, silence fell between them, thick and charged. Eloise exhaled slowly, her emotions still swirling, her pulse refusing to steady. She had faced Mairead, spoken truths she had long held back, and yet it left her shaken in ways she could not fully name. James glanced down at her, his expression softer now, though something fierce still lingered beneath.
“Ye handled that well,” he said quietly.
Eloise let out a small breath, her voice barely above a whisper. “I didnae ken I had it in me.”
James’s gaze lingered on her, something like admiration flickering there.
“There is much about ye I am still learnin',” he said.
Eloise nodded but her thoughts drifted once more into dangerous territory.
For though Mairead has been dealt with, and justice has been served, I cannae ignore the truth, me time here is still bound by an end, and whatever lay between us remains as uncertain as ever.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Papers lay scattered before James in his study, though he had not read a single word of them, his thoughts far too restless to settle on matters of parchment and ink.
The weight of the last days pressed upon him, not the battle, nor Drummond’s death, but something far more unsettling. The image of Eloise lingered in his mind, her voice, her touch, the way she had looked at him as though he were something more than a duty-bound Laird.
A knock came at the door, and before he could answer, Callum stepped inside, closing it quietly behind him.
“Ye sent for me, me Laird?” he asked, his tone steady as always.
James straightened, drawing in a breath. “Aye. There is business to be done.”
Callum moved closer, “What would ye have me do?” he asked, folding his arms loosely across his chest.
James crossed behind the desk, his expression hardening slightly as he forced his thoughts into order.
“Ye will lead the escort taking Mairead back to her father, Laird Cameron,” he said. “Ye will deliver me letter into his hands and ensure he kens the terms I’ve set. Ye will wait for his reply.”
