21
Finley pushed the carrot around on the tin plate, her stomach rolling at the thought of eating another bite. It had been two days since Erik had departed from the clan, leaving her in tears as he did so. It had been two days since she had seen his face, heard his voice, kissed his lips, and she missed him now more than ever.
Not even the lure of her newfound position could bring her the same joy she had found with him, and now Finley realized that she had made a grave error in thinking that she could move on without him in her life.
She couldn’t, but it mattered not. He was back with his clan where he belonged, and she would have to find a way to move on without him.
“I dinnae like carrots either.”
Finley gave a faint smile to Malta next to her, seeing that her sister’s plate still had all her carrots. “I like them. I just cannae eat them right now.”
Malta frowned. “Why not?”
“Because she is lovesick,” Lisbeth called out.
Finley’s cheeks burned with her sister’s declaration, looking over at her aunt to see if she had heard her niece’s words.
She hadn’t. She had barely paid much attention to her nieces with Leeth seated at her right. They were making eyes at each other again, and while Finley’s love life was falling apart at the seams, she was happy for her aunt and the older warrior. Earlier today, the council had granted them approval to move forward with the wedding, which would put Leeth at the Lady’s right hand.
Not that he hadn’t been. Leeth had always been there, but now he would be recognized as her husband, and Finley knew that was what both of them wanted. Her aunt had already told her that if they had denied her request, she would have handed them the bloody crown and told them to shove it up their arses.
It seemed that everyone had gotten what they desired except her.
“I am not lovesick,” she grumbled at Lisbeth. “I am full.”
Lisbeth rolled her eyes. “Tell me another lie, Sister. Ye have been moping around ever since McGregor left.”
Finley forced back the swell of emotion in her throat. “Ye dinnae know wot is going on with me.”
“Perhaps not,” her aunt said softly. “But I know the look of love when I see it.”
Finley sat up straighter in her chair, clearing her throat. “I am not in love with Erik.”
Leeth chuckled, interlacing his fingers with her aunt’s. “Aye, ye are, lass. And he is with ye. Give him time. He will be back.”
Finley knew that wasn’t the truth. She wasn’t going to let her heart dare hope that he would come back here, to her, and give up everything he had in his own clan. She could never ask him that, never ask him to give up his family for her. He wasn’t coming for her, and the only time she would see him again would be years from now, when the hurt had glazed over, and her heart was hard against any sort of love like that.
Love. She was inlovewith Erik. Finley had tried to deny it, tried to roll the idea around in her mind that it wasn’t truly love that she felt, but now, it was alarmingly clear that she was in love with the warrior who had left.
Bloody hell.
“Aye,” her aunt added, her eyes sparkling with delight. “And when he does, I fully expect ye tae go with him.”
Finley nearly dropped her fork as she stared at her aunt. “Wot?”
“Ye’re not happy,” her aunt said softly. “Not without him. Erik is a good man, a good Scot. And if he comes and asks ye tae go with him, I would hope that ye would agree tae it.”
“But wot about the second in command?” she asked, her heart hammering in her eyes. She had never heard her aunt talk like this, like she wanted her to go. “Ye gave me a position.”
“A position I thought ye would want,” her aunt stated, reaching over to grasp Finley’s hand in hers. “Ye are a fine warrior, lass, and I have been proud of everything ye have accomplished in yer lifetime. But one thing ye hadn’t expected was tae fall in love, and sometimes, that is what ye need above all else. Yer sword cannae keep ye warm at night.”
Finley could barely breathe, much less speak. Her aunt was relieving her of her duties, letting her choose between serving her or going to Erik.
Would he accept her? Was he missing her now, wanting her to come find him? She knew he was a stubborn Scot, and perhaps he was waiting for her.
“I dinnae know wot tae do,” she admitted, biting her lip. “Wot if he doesnae want me?”
Aunt Edna squeezed her hand. “Then ye come home, and we help ye heal, lass.”
