Lady Eilean

Chapter 34

I woke in the early afternoon to the sounds of soft rain and a crackling fire. The typical noisy hustle of the castle was dormant outside my chamber walls. No shouts came from the pastures that stretched beyond my window. Everyone, it seemed, was still asleep.

Alex's easy breathing kept me company as I hovered between the delicate consciousness of near-alertness and the intoxicating pull back to sleep. I shifted on the bed, enjoying the warmth and softness. I could halt the recollections of last night. Thoughts of my family, of Calum's confession, of Alex's ardor... they were unwelcome. Turning on my side, I faced Alex. Three wilted rose petals stuck to his cheek and a crushed rosebud was tangled in his hair. I watched the slow rise and fall of his chest. Admired his boyish smile as he dreamed.

He was entertainment enough to forget my worries. I could figure everything out later when he was awake. Until then, why interrupt the moment? Burrowing down into the pillows, I gave myself over to warmth and laziness. I snuggled up to Alex, inching my way under his arms. Eyes heavy and mind quiet, I fell asleep.

~

I woke again a few hours later, alone; both grateful and dismissive of Alex's sensitivity to household gossip. The rainstorm from earlier had passed. Now bright sunlight and a stiff wind spilled through the windows. Getting out of bed, I dusted the last of the clinging flowers off of me and opened the windows wide to let fresh air ripple across my skin. The castle was awake at last, and the homey sounds of work echoed all around me.

I picked up my gown from the floor and let the silk slip through my fingers one last time. Playing dress-up had been fun, but I was looking forward to donning my familiar, relaxed clothing. I dressed in a plain wool gown of buttery yellow with black accents — the MacLeod colors — and braided my hair in a loose crown around my head.

Glancing at the mantle clock, I knew I would be on my own for a while. It was past lunchtime. Midway through the languid afternoon hours when I toiled over accounts and correspondence in solitude. Today, I had an errand to run. Wiggling my feet into leather slippers, I left my rooms and walked to the guest wing.

Calum shouted at me to enter after I rapped on his bedroom door. Pushing open the door, I observed him as exquisitely dressed as ever and drinking tea at the desk.

"Morning," I said, taking in the scene.

I had not been in these rooms since the first day Calum moved in, months ago. The room was meticulously clean. Papers and books stacked in neat piles. Sparkling crystal vases held bouquets of fresh flowers and were placed artistically around the room. On top of the trunk at the foot of the bed was a traveling case. Tied up with twine, it was a sure sign Calum would soon be departing.

"It's four in the afternoon, my lady," Calum smirked, dabbing at his mouth with a napkin and adopting a serene smile. "'Good afternoon' is the correct greeting."

"Right." I grinned. Jerking my chin to the trunk, I asked, "Going somewhere?"

"I thought I should prepare myself for a dismissal after last's night failed confession of love and devotion."

I replayed Calum's proposal over in my mind, revisiting the moment. It had not been one of romantic effusions. It had been honest and blunt. His suggestion of marriage was purely a practical next step. Even after a good night's sleep, my thoughts were a mix of vague numbness — but I could easily attribute that to my hangover and not emotional upheaval. If I thought about it, the only thing that had ever cleared my thoughts was physical exertion. Either working or riding or the writhing of bodies over a bed. I had needed Calum to kiss me only because it was a shortcut. The quickest way to an answer. The embrace had been useful, at least.