She placed the underclothes and boots Caillen had given her onto her sister’s bed.
“But, but yer secret admirer gave ye these, Em,” Davinia implored, “stay here and maybe ye will meet him, or we can find two swains at the Lachlainn fair, just like ye promised we would!”
Emer gave a wan smile and continued folding her clothes into her shawl. Not one garment from the Maclachlan keep would be going home with her.
Davinia, knowing her sister so well, saw Emer meant what she said. Losing Gawain and her sister on the same day was too much for Davinia. She fell down on the bed and began weeping miserably.
Emer gave her a pat on the back, threw her pack over her back, and went downstairs to saddle Bessie, who had been brought back from the Nethy inn safely. She bumped into Gilby in the stables. He was feeding Menzies an apple.
The man smiled at Emer, “This horse saved yer lives. I could stand here and feed the rascal apples all day – I’m that happy.”
He stopped talking when he saw Emer put the pack in Bessie’s saddlebag.
“What’s to - do, miss? Dinnae tell me ye have to leave to go and put yer affairs in order again.”
Emer did not know what to say for a moment, and then she realized there was nothing to fear by letting Gilby understand her reason for leaving.
“I’m returning to Nethy, Gilby, but this time I’m nae coming back.”
“But...but Emer!” Gilby stuttered.
She held up her hand, “I’m a servant, Gilby, and no love in the world can change that fact. I plan on living in a place where no one can throw insults in me face for simply occupying the station I hold,” she gave him a rueful smile, “maybe it’s me Highland pride.”
She gave him a hug, “I’m off to the kitchens to get some food and say farewell to Davinia. I thank ye for everything, ye kind, sweet man.”
After filling her pockets with all the sugar cakes, a sobbing Mistress Drummond gave her and giving the lady a consoling hug, she looked around the kitchens for her sister.
At that moment, the spit roast boy, promoted to page boy since Cook’s new-fangled closed stove had been installed, ran in.
“If ye’re looking for yer sister, Emer, she said to tell ye she had to go the east wing. Ye ken the room with the ring handle made of bronze? Somethin’ to do with changing the bedsheets.”
Emer was not looking forward to running up all those stairs, not with her clumsy ways, but she must give Davinia one last hug. She lifted up her skirts and carefully made her way up to the room. She had felt so numb and empty since her fight with Caillen in the cellar. Emer did not even react when she saw which room it was.
The bedchamber where she and Caillen had first kissed.
Wearily, she turned the handle and went in. The curtains over the window embrasures were closed tight, and the room was dark.
Suddenly, she was grabbed around the waist by a pair of strong arms. A small shriek escaped her lips before a mouth covered them with a passionate embrace.
Emer knew those strong arms, that mouth, the feel of a soft, scratchy beard rubbing her skin with its delicious roughness. It was Caillen. She could not help herself. She loved him with all her heart and wanted nothing more than for him to take her in his arms and make love to her.
Nay! I cannae allow me body and heart to overrule me head! He’s a Laird--he will always be a Laird. And I will always be a servant in his eyes whenever I do something to displease him.
Steeling her resolve, Emer pushed Caillen away.
“Nay!” she said, and never had a word cost her more effort to say.
Caillen had expected Emer to react like this. He deeply regretted the angry words he had said to her in the cellar. Before Gawain had left the keep, he had pulled his brother aside.
“I cozened yer betrothed somethin’ bad, brither. Ye must forgive me. Not even a learned philosopher from the university would have been able to see through me performance. And when she refused to accept the lies I told her about ye – I blackmailed her.”
Caillen was prepared to beg and plead before allowing Emer to leave.
“Emer, please forgive me for the harsh words I spoke to ye back in the cellar. I was mad and lost me reason. I should’ve believed ye, love.”
She sighed, “It’s nae the point I was makin’, me Laird...,”
Her voice lingered on the last word.
