Page 39 of Lady Len and the Mysterious Mac

She hadn’t known what sort of reaction to expect, but she’d expected something.

For perhaps the first time in her life, Ellen didn’t know what to hope for.

Like her daily prayers, her invitation to Jory and Finn hadn’t been wholly selfish, either. The laird was clearly unwell, and if anyone could make him better, it would be her cousin.

But whatever news she’d shared with Silas had caused him to hide in his library the rest of the day, not even emerging to break bread with their guests, not even speaking to her through their shared door to remind her to tie up the handle. Perhaps he was angry at her meddling. She should’ve left well enough alone.

She wanted to knock on the door and try to comfort him. Instead, desperate for a quieter silence, Ellen crept down to the chapel. Though it was filled with the litter and dust of decades, she could envision what a beauty it had once been.

The window was shuttered with splintered boards, the walls and floor quite filthy from the refuse stored there over the years, and the bench cushions appeared moth-eaten and mildewed. But the chamber itself was salvageable, and even in its current state, it tugged at her, body and soul, begging for restoration.

That night, she donned a clean shift, and fell asleep quickly, running over a list in her mind of all the ways the chapel might be improved, and in the morning the dark cloud which had hung over Silas seemed to have lifted as well.

They took breakfast in the Hall, where Ellen watched Jory and Finn closely, noting all the little ways they touched and moved within each other’s space as naturally as breathing. Jory absently stroked the back of his head when she passed his seat. He reached up to squeeze her hand. The way they would turn and smile in some shared levity known only to each other made Ellen’s heart ache a little.

“ ’S a hot spring near Strathpeffer, an easy distance from here,” Si announced while stirring strawberry jam into his parritch.

Jory’s eyes lit up immediately.

“Understand you suffer from a variety of aches and stiffness. So much travel of late can’t have improved your condition. We can go today, to take your ease, if you like.”

His speech was stiff and uncomfortable, as though he wasn’t accustomed to making polite conversation with those he didn’t know well, but it was charming to watch him try, and Jory caught Ellen’s eye with a warm smile.

“I can’t imagine a more pleasant way to spend our last afternoon. Will you come as well?” She directed the last to Ellen, who hadn’t known a thing about it.

Seeing Silas, who was so clearly more at ease alone, embrace her family as his own, broke something inside Ellen. From what Mac had said in the letters, Si’s only kin were his father, young Bram, and the Leasks—no brothers, no other close cousins or even dear friends, except perhaps the ones he left behind in Aberdeen, and she wondered if he had even allowed himself to form such bonds out there.

But here he was trying with the people most important to her, even as she was still dreaming of abandoning him.

How was she ever going to leave? But how could she stay, knowing that she couldn’t be who he needed? Could she?

The question niggled her when she nodded her agreement to Jory. It itched while she finished her breakfast. It burned as she accepted a basket lunch from Mrs. Kynoch, heavily laden with cold meats and cheese and bannocks. She was grateful when Silas took the full basket from her for the walk down to the stables, but his chivalry only made the question weigh as heavily as the basket had.

Ellen had supposed they might take a carriage, but of course they would need to ride. She eyed Buttercup skeptically and would swear the horse eyed her back, just as unsure.

“ ’Lady ’Len will ride with me,” Si said, gallantly omitting the story of her disastrous first and final riding lesson. “D’you prefer a horse of your own?” he asked Jory.

She considered it, glancing at Finn, who tried to hide the smirk on his face by casting his eyes to the ground, the tips of his ears turning pink.

Ellen didn’t understand what private conversation had just passed between the two of them, and yet her stomach gave a tiny flip of envy at their happy secret language.

“No need to tire an extra horse, Si,” Jory answered. “We can share.”

Gawyn helped them saddle Uinnseann alongside Finn’s Clydesdale, Sparradh, though from his repeated glances in her direction, she knew he was wary of putting her back on a horse at all, and she quite agreed.

She sat rigidly in Si’s arms as they rode out of the paddock. He whispered in her ear, his warm breath tickling her cheek, “Relax, ’Lady ’Len. I’m in complete control. I’ve got you, and he willnae dream of throwing me.”

Ellen wanted to relax for him. But she feared if she released one ounce of control, he would be more insulted by her quaking.

For at least half an hour, the horses maintained an easy pace along a forest path, as Silas and Finn murmured softly to each other about matters of the clan, and Jory piped in occasionally with observations on the local flora.

“Och, she’ll be wanting to stop and pick it all on the way back,” Finn teased, and Jory squirmed around to try and smack him, but they were both laughing. Ellen’s cousin had always vowed she would never marry, and Ellen had been shocked when they returned from their adventure and announced they were engaged, and yet somehow, they seemed a perfect match.

The former Shaw Wretch was just as tough as Jory and good natured enough to find her toughness appealing. But most of all, he made her laugh as no one else ever had.

Ellen’s stomach flipped again, and, as though he could sense it, Si tightened his hold on her.

Despite her stiffness, he almost cradled her against him, holding both reins in his left hand, crossed in front of her, his right arm wrapped around her waist.