A familiar pang of longing shot through Edna, and she stumbled backward as the pain swamped her, threatening to rob her of her breath. There were days when she didn’t think of her beloved, but whenever someone brought up what she had lost, it was hard to ignore the grief that was still lodged in her chest. “Give me the basket,” she said angrily, holding out her hand. “I dinnae wish tae be in yer presence any longer.”
Something crossed Malcolm’s face, but he didn’t relinquish his hold on the basket. “Why did ye refuse him?”
The pain twisted tighter in her chest, but Edna refused to allow him to see it in her expression. “Because I have already loved before,” she answered tightly. “And I have nary a thought tae do so again. Now give me the basket and begone with ye!”
He handed over the basket, and Edna glared at Malcolm before she marched angrily down the path, willing the tears away. She should have never allowed him to join her. His questioning was almost too personal.
Clearing her throat, Edna stepped into the village, allowing her angry thoughts to be washed away with the sound of laughter and chatter around her. She would avoid the warrior from now on.
That proved to be far too difficult in the coming days. Malcolm seemed to be everywhere Edna was, even invited to dine with them one night, where Edna was forced to take the chair next to him. She didn’t even acknowledge his presence as she sat, ignoring the looks of her sister and parents as she reached for the ale.
“Malcolm, ye are doing good things with the warriors,” her father remarked as he picked up his ale. “I have half a mind tae keep ye on.”
Malcolm chuckled beside Edna, and she stiffened at the sound. Why couldn’t he be like Neacal, where she would be disgusted by him? “I dinnae think that Irvine would agree with that,” he replied evenly. “Who would watch his back?”
“Aye, ’tis true,” her father chuckled. “I hear that ye knew some of mah warriors.”
“Aye,” Malcolm answered. “A few I have crossed paths with, some that are no longer living.”
Edna froze. Surely not. He couldn’t know James, could he?
Her father’s smile faded, his eyes flickering to Edna. “Aye, we have had some loss over the past few years. ’Tis never easy tae lose a good Scot, but we have tae move forward.”
Elise picked at her food with her fork. “Who are some that ye knew here, Malcolm?”
Malcolm shifted in his seat. “I cannae remember all of their names, but James Fraser, I hear that he has been gone for some time now.”
Edna’s fork clattered to her plate at the sound of her beloved’s name. “How did ye know him?” she demanded, not caring that her family was staring at her, their mouths agape. “How?”
“He and I met on the road years ago,” Malcolm said softly.
Edna knew exactly what Malcolm was referring to. James had left for a few months at the request of her father on a scouting trip, and she had missed him something dreadful. When he had returned, he had proposed marriage to her.
It was the happiest time in her life, a time she wouldn’t have again. “Excuse me,” she said quickly before the tears spilled over, pushing away from the table and nearly running toward the stairs. She couldn’t do this.
She couldn’t sit there and reminisce about her beloved, knowing that he would never bestow her with a smile or say her name in the only way that he could.
“Edna!”
Malcolm’s voice tore through her mind as her foot hit the first stair, his hand on her arm a second later. “Please,” he said. “Wait.”
Edna turned back to see the hard expression on his face. “Wot do ye want?” she asked hotly. “Why are ye following me?”
“I dinnae know,” he said, his voice laced with regret. “I didnae know that ye were James’s lass. He talked aboot ye all the time.”
“Please,” she whispered as the first tear fell. “Dinnae.”
He let go of her then, his expression sad. “I swear tae ye.”
She just shook her head before hurrying up the stairs, wanting nothing more than to escape to her chambers. It had been hard enough to have him here, in her presence, but now to know that he knew her beloved? That was torture.
Edna made it into her chamber and shut the door, slumping against the wood as the tears fell. She wasn’t going to ever be able to push past this hurt.
Malcolm.
Malcolm swore under his breath as he worked through the motions of defense, the clang of the sword not even soothing his anger. He had gotten little sleep the night before, thinking about the tortured look on Edna’s face when she realized who he was talking about.
He hadn’t meant to hurt her. James Fraser had been a good friend, one that he had often conversed with through letters and the occasional visit whenever James happened to be close to McPearson land. More importantly, he had been surprised to finally meet the lass that James carried on about.
