His Bonnie Bride by Hannah Howell (the beginning after the end read novel .TXT) 📕

had to. If her father saw that she had been crying he would ask her why and, if she answered truthfully, there could be a great deal of trouble.

As she bent to pick up a hairpin, she felt her amulet shift beneath her gown. Slowly straightening up, she pulled it free and stared at it. It was supposed to be given to the man she loved. She would never love another man as she loved Tavis. Carefully, she removed the amulet and set it upon the pillow. When he saw it he might finally understand, but she would not allow herself to hope. All that mattered was that she loved him, would probably always love him, and so the amulet was his to wear if he chose to.

"He might as well have it, he has all else that is important to me save for my kin," she murmured bitterly, then shook her head. "Oh, Mama, why him?" She smiled faintly. "I imagine ye, and most like your kin as well, asked much the same. I tried to make him love me, Mama. No one can e'er say I did not try. It was not enough. I just hope that I can be healed of this wound."

She practically ran from the room, modifying her pace only when she felt there was a chance of someone seeing her. If nothing else, she would leave with dignity. No one would know how deeply she was hurting, nor guess that she had been fool enough to fall in love with her captor.

Andrew helped her secure her meager belongings to her mount. She was glad of his chatter and teasing, for it helped her in her desperate effort to maintain control. Usually he was very perceptive, but he was young and full of tales about his adventures in France. She tensed when Iain and Sholto arrived, for she feared they would speak on the very matter she sought to ignore.

"I dinnae ken what goes on," Sholto began, only to have Iain cuff him to shut him up.

"Take care, lassie." Iain hugged her and gave her a brief kiss, laughing softly when Sholto hurried to do the same. "Ye werenae too hard to bear, considering ye are a Sassanach."

Somehow she managed a weak smile in response to his teasing. So too was she able to smile for Colin when he bid her a gruff farewell, even though his eyes told her he saw more than she wished him to. He made no move to alter the way things were headed, however, and moments later she rode away from Caraidland with her family. She did not look back, fighting the urge and trying to believe that it was all for the best, that such a pairing could never have worked out.

Eldon frowned as he studied his daughter. She was pale and far too quiet. There was pain flickering in her eyes when her calm poise occasionally slipped. She said nothing; made no demands concerning Tavis MacLagan. Eldon began to wonder if the pair had really been lovers, but then he shook his head. Too many people had said they were. Mayhaps they were taking the most sensible route, the one of the least difficulty for either of their families. It was best for all of them, but Eldon withheld judgment for the moment. She might yet have something to tell him or ask of him.

Colin watched the Eldon group ride away. For whatever reasons, he owed Roden Eldon the life of his whole clan. He felt it might be for the best if the ancient antagonisms were finally laid to rest. It was something to think about. He turned to look at Tavis, who still stood in the same spot.

"Tavis," he began as he moved toward his son, who looked very pale and much as if he were in shock.

"Nay," Tavis rasped as he suddenly moved. "Nay, not a word. I willnae speak on it, Father."

He hurried away before his father could press him on the matter, ask for explanations. With each step he took he gained speed until he was racing through the halls of Caraidland. When he found himself in the tower room he was not really surprised, but cursed viciously, for it was the last place he wished to be. Moving quickly to the window, he stared toward the south, but not even the dust raised by their passage lingered behind the Eldons. They were really gone, on their way back to England and Hagaleah, riding even further out of his reach, even deeper into hostile territory.

Groaning in despair, he pressed his forehead against the cool stone. Eldon's arrival had been both a blessing and a curse. The man had ensured the survival of the MacLagan clan, but he had taken Storm.

"But what could I do?" he asked of the empty room. "She is a Sassanach. She is an Eldon. Twa enemies bound together in one wee lass. She doesnae belong here. The man wouldnae have let her stay. Nay, not to warm a Scot's bed. There was naught I could say," he moaned as he fought to banish the memory of her stricken face when she had turned to him, waiting for him to speak, and he had remained silent.

It hurt, and he had the chilling feeling that now, when it was too late, he understood. He felt as if a large and important part of him had been torn away. It was a deep wound, and he began to fear that it was one that would never heal quite right, that what scar remained would always be easily scratched open to bleed freely again. The worst of it all was that he felt sure the wound was mostly self-inflicted.

His gaze fell to the bed and his breath caught in his throat. Slowly he moved to the bed and, with a trembling hand, he picked up the amulet. A convulsive sob wracked his frame as he clutched it. She had meant every word