Page 68 of The Forest Bride

“Duncan more than cares. He has always loved you, and does love you still. I am sure of it.”

She caught her next breath. “Why do you think so?”

“Is he married? Has he found another since he returned to settle? He has not.”

“He was never betrothed again,” Margaret said, as if coming out of a fog, seeing it.

“Not a one. That lad broke his own heart, and it has never mended.” She picked up another stone, fiddled with it in graceful fingers. “Broke yours too.”

She tilted her chin as if to hide the truth. “We were very young.”

“You never found another either.”

Margaret gave a bittersweet smile. “This is no epic tale of destined love, no Saint George and his princess, no Arthur and Guinevere…” She shrugged. “Just a lad and a lass put together by their parents and perhaps not suited.”

“It could be the opposite.”

“My father made other arrangements for me when he thought Duncan had died. I refused each one, though Papa did not want to hear it. I did not want to marry, ever. Three more—two died.”

“It is the way of things in a land as beleaguered as Scotland.”

“The third one agreed, then refused after my father continued the arrangement. He changed his mind. That was William de Soulis.”

“No wonder Duncan was disgusted with the man.” Effie sat thoughtful. “Margaret—what if you could mend your hearts, what then?”

“We hardly know each other now.” But oh, she thought. She loved him—she knew that now—and did not know, truly, what he thought or if there was real hope. Interest, perhaps, but his life was a mystery. And she had always thought her path would be to serve her family.

“There is magic there. I see it. Others do too. Bran and Lennox mentioned it. ‘What was that lad thinking, to let that lass go?’ Lennox said.” Effie imitated his deep voice so well that Margaret gave a surprised chuckle.

“And Bran? He did not even know I was a girl!”

“He said ‘If that lad is a lass, is she the one Duncan would have married if he’d kept his wits about him?’”

They both laughed outright. But Margaret sighed, turning the stone in her fingers, thinking, wanting to believe what Effie said, yet holding back.

“I am not sure about any of this,” she finally said. “And I would not know what to do about it, if anything. I could not ask, not knowing how Duncan feels. Or how I feel.”

“The hurt of it lingers still?”

She shrugged her shoulders, half nodded. “A little.”

“See that?” Effie pointed toward the door. “He is not confining you now, so he has made a decision. Find out what it is. If you are free to go, then stay instead.”

“I will. But there are matters I must see to, very soon. The welfare of others could depend on what I do.”

“This missing friend? I have heard some of it. You care about her, and so you must do what you can to get her back to safety. Your heart is there. Your heart is also here though, yes? Then remain here as long as you can. You two have much to sort out.”

“We would if he cares to sort it.”

“He does. You are here because he wanted you safe.”

“Or for his legal obligation.”

Effie shook her head. “Two stubborn people seeing what is in front of them and still not seeing it. Both of you need sorting out. Duncan built such a wall around himself long ago that it would take King Edward’s infernal Warwolf to break through it, that evil war machine. You might have to find a way to take down that wall. Duncan Dhu is the stubbornest of men, and perhaps the blindest. You may need to build one to get through to Duncan Dhu, the stubbornest of men. Though you are equally stubborn.”

“Effie,” Margaret said, smiling then, feeling affection warm through her, “you are a dear friend to your cousin. And to me.”

“I like you a good deal, from the moment I saw you pretending to be a lad. And who did that fool? Only men!” She laughed. “I did not mean to trouble you with my opinion,but since Duncan might let you go again, I thought I must say something for good and all.”