She tried to let all these distractions steady her.It was the only way she could properly announce the decision she had made overnight to Alex.
It was now or never.
Taking another breath, she stepped inside.
Bettie and Katie shot past with their hands full of ribbons and a crust of sugared bread. They circled her and ran off again.
Erica studied Grandmamma, who attended to guests, then exhaled and made herself smile and kept walking.
She found Alex near the far wall of the Great Hall. He watched the floor and the door in the same breath. The line of his jaw was set. The cup in his hand was full. He looked like a man who had come to the edge of a field and could not step in.
Erica stopped in front of him. Her heart beat too fast for the words to come smoothly, so she swallowed over and over before informing him of her decision.
“Erica,” he greeted, his voice low but inquisitive.
“I am done, Alex,” she stated.
“What?”
“I am done fighting,” she repeated in the same tone.
His head snapped up at once. Surprise flashed across his face.
“I will marry ye. White wedding and all.”
His good eye widened.
“If ye wish,” she continued, as steadily as she could, “ye can turn this cèilidh into a handfasting.”
The words left her and took a weight with them. Her chest felt light and strange, as if her breath had gone thin. She waited forsound to crash back over them. It did not. The music went on the same as before.
Alex stared at her. He did not close the space between them. He did not speak. She saw the conflict in his eye and knew she could not help him. Not here. Not now.
Behind them, a cheer rose for a turn well danced. Her hands felt too warm. She laced her fingers to keep them still.
“This is what ye wanted,” she said, softer now. “I agree to yer plan. Love is nothing when me life is at stake.”
He blinked once, slowly. The cup in his hand did not move.
“Well,” she said, and heard the plea she had not meant to voice. She kept her chin up anyway. “Are ye going to say something or nae?”
Alex felt the hall lean toward them. The pipes thinned, and the drum lost its beat. He opened his mouth and found no clear answer. He had wanted this, and the wanting had turned him cautious.
“We can speak of it?—”
The doors at the far end swung wide, cutting him off. His eyes snapped up, and he watched as Laird MacGee entered with a hat in hand and a smile clipped neatly at the corners.
MacGee moved like a man who had practiced being small. He bowed to the room, to the music, to the guests, then to Alex.
“Me apologies for the delay,” he said. “I wouldnae miss a celebration like this.”
Erica went still beside Alex. He felt the tremor in her breath, though she had not moved.
“Please excuse me,” she said.
She stepped back, then turned into the crowd, quick and quiet.
A prickle ran along Alex’s neck as he watched her slip between a line of dancers and vanish behind a belt of men near the side doors. He turned back to MacGee, catching the bandage that still covered his arm from where he had struck him.
