His own fear? It could not be shaken. For, it was not the sort of fear Elizabeth felt. No. His was the kind of deep-rooted desire to keep his wife safe. And he’d always feel it to some degree.
But here as the mist began to ease, and the crystal sky called to them over the windswept bens? He felt… peace.
Tom had always been a city person.
Of course, he’d been to Scotland before, a guest of the Duke of Clyde for hunting season. But this time he found himself easing into the twilight of the evenings, wandering through the purple heather, and basking in the setting golden sun with his wife, wishing to never leave this haven.
Oh, the muck of London was deep in his blood, but there was something here that allowed him to breathe.
And as he and Clyde took to the hills striding further up into the bens, their families following just behind, he found himself hoping that he and Elizabeth might know more than turmoil.
It wasn’t just the wild landscape that gave him this, but the protection of their friends, and his own actions.
Because of this and her determination, Elizabeth had finally found freedom with him and he had finally been able to find some peace knowing that he had protected someone as he had not protected Mary or his mother.
Releasing his old fears would be something that he worked at every day as he found understanding that he had no control over the past. But he could work every day to secure his future, to show her love, to give her the affection that she’d never had.
And each day that he did so, she blossomed.
It was incredible to see her shrug off the perfection that she had worn like a restrictive coat. Her eyes danced, matching the color of the silvery streams that rushed down from the snow melt, and her laugh, it filled the air far more beautifully than any Highland bird.
He glanced back over his shoulder, Elizabeth and the Duchess of Clyde trailed behind them merrily at a more playful pace.
The three children that had come in quick succession to the duke and duchess rambling behind them.
It was remarkable to think of the Duke of Clyde as a father and that these toddlers scampering over the Highland Hills were his children.
They romped like Highland sheep, though they were all under the age of five. It did not seem to bother them bounding over the glens. They were far more adept at it, he thought, than most adults would be. Their laughter and pink cheeks were a sight that he could barely fathom. They filled his heart with such joy as did Elizabeth.
She seemed in her element this day as if finally surrounded by warmth and kindness. He was so happy for her, his soul dared to soar at the sight.
For him, he only prayed it would last. Somehow, they would have to make it stretch on and on.
But as if this last thought had awakened the Fates, a voice called up the ben. A deep one.
One that he immediately recognized and ice dashed through his veins. Had he tempted fate too soon?
Was his hope for joy and happiness precipitous? Was all of that about to be yanked out from under himself and Elizabeth?
He and Clyde turned to meet the owner of that booming call.
The Duke of Blackwood strode up the steep face of the hill, his dark coat billowing out behind him like demon’s wings. Elizabeth whipped towards him and her face immediately drained of all joy and color.
She tensed, that perfection coming back to her stance as if she could put on armor to protect herself.
Blackwood raised his hand in greeting.
He was smiling.
There was no danger to his presence or lingering darkness, as if he was about to impart some warning. Tom swiftly headed down the hill, catching Elizabeth’s hand determined to meet the English duke with his wife.
The Duke of Clyde and the duchess rushed towards them too.
The children, unperplexed by the machinations of the adults, continued to play over the heather, picking flowers.
“Good God, man,” Tom said at last. “We did not expect to see you so soon.”
Blackwood laughed. “I did not expect to have news for you so soon.”