Caillen and Emer were left alone.
“Cai...,” Emer whispered, standing up from her chair and moving to where he sat frozen, a blank look on his pale face.
The guard must have been alerted in some way. He opened the door and came in, sword drawn and ready to use.
“Come on, lovebirds,” he snapped, “it’s time for ye to go back to yer cage.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
On their way back to the cellars, there was no cheerful banter or jesting. Whatever light had remained in their hearts, which enabled them to see the bright side of things was gone.
Each was trapped with their own thoughts and despair – never to be adequately explained or fully understood. The atmosphere between the two lovers was so black and heavy that they did not even notice when they were put back into the cellar, for they were already trapped within a prison of doubt.
Emer wanted to run and hide behind a stack of barrels. She needed to create an explanation in her mind before allowing herself to speak. The bread she had gulped down so rapidly had formed a leaden weight inside her stomach, so dense it threatened to block off her ability to breathe. As soon as the door clanged shut behind her, she ran to the furthest, darkest part of the cellar, curled up into a ball, and stayed there.
Caillen did not follow her or try to say anything. Emer was left in the gloom, hiding behind the barrel stack. All she could do to pass the time was watch as the grey daylight became blacker and blacker, like her mood. No words she could think of would be enough to explain away the damage Gawain had done.
I ken Gawain could do this. I felt it in me bones something was nae right. And I ignored the nagging doubts in me head to keep the peace, to make life a little easier for everyone. If I had opened me budget to Caillen from the start, none of this would be happening.
Emer had not spent her time at the castle in a void. She had chatted with enough guards and staff to know that Gawain’s behavior had changed drastically since his brother’s return and the old Laird made his declaration that Caillen was to take his place. Before those two things, Gawain had been a studious man, quietly running castle affairs to the best of his knowledge, at least according to what the staff said.
Secrets had been leaking out, but it was all petty stuff - nothing pointing deliberately towards war.
But since Caillen’s ascendency, events had escalated at a rapid rate.
If Gawain had been in love with Flora for many years, she would know him well enough by now to sense when the time was ripe for her to strike. It was a perfect storm of coincidences, and Flora had known how to play them all against each other like a well-tuned fiddle.
Emer could imagine Flora keeping Gawain at a distance with a list of unattainable stipulations over the years. In all probability, she had been sweet as honey to him at first, encouraging his unquestioning devotion and assuring him there was a chance he could win her hand. And then, once his love became frustrated by her shifting stance, she would begin making him promises.
If ye were a Laird, I would marry ye.
If ye tell me all yer faither’s business, I will think about setting a date for our wedding.
If ye find out where yer brither’s getting the gold from, we can be rich.
If Gawain said aye to doing all those things, it would not have been such a hard push for him to agree to capture, incarceration, and even murder. Love can make a person do incomprehensible things.
Small steps eventually add up to a mile.
The night air had dug deep into Emer’s bones, and she wrapped her traveling cloak tighter. The hunger, thirst, and cold no longer had the power to distress her. As she worked things out in her mind, it was as if her soul had been freed from her body and could fly from one day to the next, able to see things clearly for the first time.
A rooster crowed, and Emer realized she must have been sitting still and alone all night. It seemed to her the day brought new hope with it. She stood up, rubbed her eyes, and went to find Caillen.
She found him at the other end of the cellar, as though he could not wait to get as far away from her as possible.
He was asleep. Emer stared at his peaceful face for a while, admiring his handsome features, her fingers itching to run gently over his brow and cheeks.
“Go away,” he said, without opening his eyes.
This time, Emer jumped.
“Ye must listen to me, Caillen. I think we can find a way out of this.”
“The name’s Laird Maclachlan, girl. A housemaid should ken how to address the master of the house.”
Caillen opened his eyes when he said this and was rewarded by the sight of Emer flinching at his words. But still, she stood her ground.
“I beg yer pardon, yer Lairdship. However, we still have to talk.”
