Page 106 of A Rogue in Firelight

“Lessons!” He gave a wry little huff. “I have not heard much about your sisters, but later for that. Ellison, nothing needs forgiveness here that I can see. Perhaps you need only to forgive yourself, stop judging yourself harshly. At the time, you needed their understanding. But I think Sir Hector can be unfeeling, even when he believes he is being fair. As for Corbie—what you do is simply not his business.”

“Papa thinks I should marry Mr. Corbie, says he will go far in the Scottish government one day. Says Corbie is willing to accept my past behavior. And Lady Strathniven would not object, I think, since he is her heir.”

“Willing to accept?” He shook his head. “If the lady approves, it is because she knows Corbie must marry a woman with common sense and a heart. But it is too late now.”

“Too late?” She caught her breath, not sure what he meant.

“Too late for your Mr. Corbie. You could never marry that cold fish. Besides, I hear you are betrothed to another.” He held out his hands. A welcome. A haven.

With a little sob, she ran to him, felt his arms encircle her. He held her, kissed the top of her head. Closing her eyes, she took in the feeling.

“Ronan MacGregor, I think I love you,” she said impulsively. “Only weeks, but I feel it is so.” Her heart pounded—she held her breath, waiting. Hoping.

“I feel the same.” He kissed her brow. “I love you, Ellison Graham. I am only beginning to see how much, I think. Keep your secrets. I am hardly one to judge.”

“Nor will I ask about yours. I think it all went away, the doubt, the sense that you were a stranger, on the day we went to Kinross.”

“Kinross? When you visited the seamstress?”

She nodded. “That day, you were just strong and sure and it felt so good to be near you. And when you met with the two men—it was only Aleck and Geordie, I know that now—I feared something bad might happen to you. And then I just knew. Later, when we took the wee lamb to Invermorie, you were so gentle and kind, and I saw how much your family means to you, saw how much you had sacrificed for their wellbeing. Keep your secrets, sir. I know you have your reasons. And I am content.”

He tilted her face, kissed her. “Here is a secret. I dread meeting the king.”

“So do I, for it might be the last day we ever see each other.”

“I am thinking all will be well. I cannot say why just yet. Trust me. I only dread meeting the king because it is—not my way, the world of peers and lords and earls and suchlike.”

“I do trust you,” she said, as it welled up in her. “And I do not care a whit if you are a lord, a laird, a farmer—or a scoundrel. I love you as you are. And if I did not see you again after the king’s levee, then I”—she searched for the words—“I would search for you. Wait for you. And feel grateful that we met, and that I know what the deepest sort of love is like.”

“I would not leave you to wait. I would find a way.” He bent to kiss her again.

“Ronan,” she whispered. “I know am too romantic. I know what may be said about us. But this is no fairytale, and we have no guarantee of a happy ending. But what we have is worth far more. I think we both want—and deserve—the same in life.”

He touched her cheek. “Love and freedom.”

“Love, aye. And freedom from burdens and threats. Freedom to do what we will.”

“We may have to fight for that, my lass. This situation—is not resolved.”

“Then we will stand up for each other. I am learning better how to do that.”

He laughed, and kissed her, and soon sent her on her way, though she did not want to go. But it was time to return to the main house, the day, the world out there.

“The sunset isbrilliant,” Sorcha said, pointing toward the window in the parlor that evening. “All rose and gold and purple. What a relief to see the rain clear away.”

“It will take the heat from the air in time for your mother’s cèilidh tomorrow,” Ellison said. “Though Papa mentioned that the heat lingers most unpleasantly in the city. I hope it cools a little before we all go south.” She glanced at Ronan, then away.

He knew her thoughts and sensed her reluctance. Sparing a glance for the stunning sunset, he went back to watching the hills where the road curved up from Kinross. Likely Ben MacNie was bringing Corbie along that road by now.

He fisted a hand behind him, not looking forward to that meeting. Ellison, seated with Sorcha, held Balor in her lap, stroking his head as the girls discussed plans for the party. He was not keen on that event either, but there was naught to be done. He must go through with all of it.

“My mother has a knack for arranging flowers and candlelight and such,” Sorcha was saying. “The house will look wonderful. And tomorrow we will be dancing! We will have strathspeys and reels!”

She stood, grasping her skirt as she began to hop and spin about while humming. Ellison laughed as Sorcha sidestepped toward her, and set the little dog down so that she could stand and clasp hands with her friend. They spun about the room, their slippers light on the carpet and their skirts, blue and green, belling like flowers.

Ronan smiled at Ellison, happy for the moment—Sorcha was a bright wee thing who could lift the mood wherever she was. Balor leaped about, barking as if he wanted to join them, and as the girls whirled past, Sorcha reached out to Ronan.

“Don’t be such a curmudgeon, Darrach!”