Page 16 of Hunted By the Cruel Highlander (Lasses of the Highland Hunt #1)
Andrea seemed to consider the idea. “It would be fittin’ for Gabriella to join in the celebrations as a member of this household.”
“I’m hardly family,” Gabriella murmured.
“But ye’re our guest,” Andrea said firmly. “And while ye’re under this roof, ye’ll be treated as family.” Her eyes softened slightly. “It would do the clan good to see some joy in these halls again.”
The unspoken grief hung between them—the shadow of the former Laird’s death that still haunted this family. Gabriella felt a sudden kinship with their loss, having known such pain herself.
“I’d be honored to learn,” she said quietly, her fingers tracing the clan pattern she’d been practicing. “Though I fear I’ll prove as clumsy with me feet as I am with this needle.”
Erica laughed, the sound bright in the sunlit room. “That’s what practice is for! And ye’re already improvin’ at yer stitches. See how even that last row is?”
Gabriella examined her work with surprise. Indeed, the last several stitches showed a marked improvement—neat and consistent, where her earlier attempts had been uneven.
“Ye see?” Andrea nodded with satisfaction. “Ye need only patience and proper instruction. Skills will come in time.”
For a moment, Gabriella allowed herself to imagine the feeling.
Learning to dance in these grand halls, wearing a fine dress instead of tavern rags, being part of something whole and unbroken.
But she quickly reminded herself that this was temporary.
France was her destination, her true chance at a fresh start.
Still, as the conversation flowed around her, easier now, she couldn’t help wondering what it might be like to truly belong somewhere again.
The afternoon light was beginning to soften as they continued embroidering, the atmosphere in the solar growing warmer with each passing hour.
“What brought ye joy, lass?” Andrea asked, reaching for another oatcake. “In those quiet moments ye had to yerself.”
Gabriella considered the question, needle paused mid-stitch. No one had asked about her pleasures before. At the tavern, survival had consumed her thoughts.
“I liked to walk by the creek near the village at dawn,” she admitted.
“When the mist still clung to the heather and nae a soul had stirred. There was a spot beneath an old rowan tree where ye could see right across the glen.” Her expression lightened at the memory.
“And sometimes, if I finished me chores early, I’d sing the old ballads me faither taught me. Songs of heroes and battles long past.”
“Ye sing?” Erica’s eyes lit up with interest. “Ye must join us for the evenin’ music. Some of the men play the fiddle most nights in the Great Hall.”
“Oh, I couldnae,” Gabriella demurred, her cheeks flushing. “I only ken simple tunes.”
“Nonsense,” Andrea said firmly. “Music brings joy to weary hearts. The castle has heard too little of it these past years.”
Gabriella smiled tentatively, touched by their enthusiasm. For a moment, she felt like the girl she might have been without the shadow of Lewis and his men hanging over her.
“Perhaps someday,” she conceded softly. “When I feel more at home.”
Andrea nodded approvingly, then set down her embroidery hoop. Her expression grew more thoughtful as she poured more tea.
“There’s somethin’ I’ve been wonderin’, lass,” she said casually. “Was there a special lad back in yer village? Someone who might be searchin’ for ye still?”
The question struck Gabriella like a physical blow.
Her fingers froze on her embroidery, the needle suspended mid-air.
The warmth drained from her face as Lewis’s face surfaced unbidden in her mind—his cold eyes watching her across the tavern, the way his gaze had lingered on her body, the slow curl of his lips when he’d announced he was the new owner.
“Nay,” she managed, her voice suddenly thin. “There was nay one.”
“Truly?” Andrea pressed gently. “A bonny lass like yerself must have caught the eye of many a young man.”
“There was…” Gabriella’s throat constricted as she forced herself to continue. They were being kind to her. They deserved something of the truth. “It was only Lewis. He—he said he wanted me.” The words came out strangled. “But nae in the way of honest courtin’.”
Her hands began to tremble visibly, the embroidery frame shaking in her lap. The room seemed to shrink around her, the walls pressing close as panic rose in her chest.
“He watched me,” she whispered, unable to stop now that she’d begun. “Said I belonged to him. I always locked me door, but the night he took me, he got in and said that important men would pay dearly for me. He intended to sell me like some piece of linen.” The thread snapped between her fingers.
Andrea’s expression shifted to one of deep concern. “Gabriella, lass, it’s all right.”
“I’m sorry.” Gabriella stood up abruptly, the embroidery falling to the floor in a tangle of blue and white threads. “I find I’m more tired than I thought. Forgive me.”
She gathered her skirts with trembling hands, desperate to escape before they saw how thoroughly broken she was.
“Thank ye for the lesson,” she managed, her voice unnaturally high-pitched. “Ye’ve both been so kind.”
“Lass, wait,” Andrea called after her, but Gabriella was already at the door, her heart hammering against her ribs.
“Let her go, Maither.” Erica’s voice, uncharacteristically gentle, followed her into the corridor. “She needs time.”
Gabriella fled through the stone passages, barely seeing the servants who stepped aside as she passed. Her breath came in short, painful gasps, tears threatening to spill over. She’d said too much. Revealed too much.
When she reached her chamber, she slammed the door behind her and pressed her back against it, sliding slowly to the floor. The cool stone beneath her offered no comfort as panic clawed at her throat.
What would they think of her now? Would they tell Hector how damaged she truly was? How the memories reduced her to this trembling wreck?
Hector.
His name alone sent a shiver of conflicting emotions through her. He’d saved her from one nightmare, but could she trust him with the darkest shadows of her past? Could she trust anyone?
Gabriella drew her knees to her chest and closed her eyes, alone with the ghosts she couldn’t escape.