Her eyes started to smart again, and Eilidh squeezed them shut. She dragged in more shuddery breaths and continued to work the dough. At that moment, she desperately missed having Dabria at her side. Her head felt like it would explode with thoughts of him, and there was no one around to listen—no one to tell her that she had heard wrong, that she had not lost one of the greatest friends she had ever had.
Because deep down, she knew that they were forever changed. Tainted. She could never look at him without recalling the cold indifference with which he had spoken of her. She would never again banter with him, knowing what he truly thought of her.
Laying the dough in its pan and setting it over the fire, Eilidh forced her mind to banish those deeply green, laughing eyes.
Later that night, she lay awake listening to Maisie’s light snores. She and the other maid had shared a room for years, and she was so used to the girl’s sleeping sounds. It was actually calming listening to her.
She had counted the number of cobwebs on the ceiling, the number of garments she spied in the wardrobe. She had picked out the largest stars from the moonlit sky and braided Maisie’s wild hair. Still sleep eluded her.
Eilidh had refrained from bringing the meal up to the great hall to avoid seeing Caelan. The downside was that she hadn’t been able to talk to Dabria. Foolishly, she had waited by the stairs leading to the servants’ quarters for him anyway. It was their usual spot, where he met with her to hand over books. He was supposed to bring some by that night, but she waited for hours and there was no sign of him.
A part of her wanted to confront him; another wanted to admit the truth in his words and let him go. It would be the wise choice. After all, he had never admitted any feelings for her, nor had he treated her as anything other than a friend. She abhorred the thought of seeming needy.
Ravaged by her rumination, Eilidh decided to take a walk around the keep to exhaust her body. She grabbed a cloak from the closet, careful not to wake Maisie, and left the room. The cool air hit her in the face, and she drew the thick cloak tighter about her. She walked past a balcony where she usually sat, watching Dabria's son.
Kai was a handful, but she adored him. He was a combination of Evan’s quiet strength and Dabria’s fire. She missed listening to him ramble about everything his tutors taught. These days, it seemed he went from the teaching rooms to bed. Eilidh made a mental note to check on him as soon she could.
Distracted, she had reached the hallway she was always careful to avoid. The hallway in which she had met Laird MacAdam. She was suddenly overwhelmed by the overpowering smell of ale and sweat. The flickering torches and shadows made it more frightening. She couldn’t run forever. Steeling her heart, she took a quick step into the corridor.
But her legs had other plans. They took on a life of their own and zipped down the hall. She kept running, barely noticing her surroundings. She slammed face first into a hard stretch of leather. Someone’s chest.
Steady hands held her by the elbows. “Eilidh? Who is chasing ye?”
Caelan.Nae, nae…Eilidh thought frantically. She was afraid that if she had to talk to him, she’d burst into tears and relay all he had said.
She put space between them, fixing her gaze on the floor. “Nae one. I’m just takin’ a walk.” She made to edge past him.
“I waited for ye at dinner.”
“Why?” Eilidh drew a long breath to steady herself from the run and his fake concern.
“Ye wanted books. I brought them with me. I wanted to give them to ye after.”
She thought to hear him frown. “Ye ken where to find me or place them.” Eilidh was proud of herself. There had not been one stutter in her words.
“Ye always serve when we have guests. I assumed it would be same this night, that I would see ye then. When ye didnae, I assumed ye went to bed.”
Eilidh was glad for the shadows or he would have seen her embarrassed face. “Mr. Robertson is nae a guest. From what I gathered, he’s very close to yer brother.” At last, she looked up.
He smirked. “Ye’re on first name basis already.”
The urge to blurt what she’d heard was so strong that she bit the insides of her cheeks. She had to get a hold on herself. Otherwise, he would come to suspect.
“Of course. He specifically asked for it.”
His brows furrowed, and he was staring at the wrapped cut on her left hand. Eilidh hid the hand behind her back.
“That is none of ye business,” she gasped.
“Let me see.”
“Nae!”
He seized the hand, ignoring her words, and peered at it. Eilidh’s mouth went dry as his calloused hand closed over hers. His finger lightly brushed over the dressing, setting Eilidh’s heart racing.
“Are ye okay, Eilidh? Ye seem… off.”
Eilidh tried to shrug out of his hold. “I’m fine. Now, let go of me arm.”