“And bring some cups with it, please!” she called after her as she hurried for the door, clearly glad to have something to dothat wasn’t sitting about and watching the new Lady feel sorry for herself.
Innes went through the trunk again, rummaging around until she found her journal; she flicked through the pages, smiling slightly as she saw all of her notes scrawled frantically alongside the charcoal sketches of plants she had drawn from the garden. So many memories tied up in this journal, she was glad that her brother had thought to send it to her.
She returned within a few minutes with a large pot of hot water and some cups, along with a tea strainer. Innes, sitting in front of the fireplace, carefully tipped a small amount of her dried herb concoction into the strainer and balanced it in the pot, watching as the colors seeped slowly from within the plants to the hot water.
Once it was cool enough, she poured herself a cup and lifted it to her lips. But, before she could take so much as a sip, she was overwhelmed by a sudden rush of emotion so intense she could not mind herself.
Tears sprang to her eyes, and she could have sworn, smelling this, that she was back in the great hall of the Anderson Keep, sitting with her brother, laughing about something or other. In this light, she could almost see a shimmer to the top of the cup, no doubt nostalgia’s golden drape.
She placed the cup down quickly and swallowed hard, half-turning so she could shoot a look at the maid.
“You should go.”
“If there’s anything else I can do?—”
“I’ll be sure to tell you,” she assured her. “Now. Please. Go.”
Annabelle hesitated for a second longer, but she seemed to think better of making any kind of fuss about staying. She made her way down the stairs, pulling the door to behind her, and Innes reached for the cup again.
So many memories, wrapped up in just a scent. Memories that she might never have a chance to experience again. As she took a sip of the tea, she tried not to let the memories of home overwhelm her.
And then, as if she had summoned it, a great wave of darkness rose to swallow her whole. Suddenly, her vision blurred, and she found herself scrabbling for the floor—but she landed on it with a thud, the cup spilling that precious tea all over the flagstone floor behind her.
Chapter Seven
Couldn’t sleep. Not even if I wanted to.
The words went around and around Lachlan’s head as he strode his way through the corridor, his mind fixed on one thing and one thing alone.
The harm that he knew he’d done to Innes.
He had sent up that damned trunk, of course. He couldn’t have kept it from her any longer, though Keith tried to convince him to spend some more time going through it. She could not have falsified such hurt, and he knew it. She was stung by his actions and would not be so quickly dismissed again.
He had been pacing the halls all evening, neglecting dinner for whiskey in his chambers. Keith had left him be—everyone had. Perhaps sensing that he would not have taken well to the sudden intrusion on his time, when the only person he wanted to lay eyes on was his wife.
By now, he’d found himself straying down to her end of the Keep. He was sure that she wouldn’t have wanted to see him anyway, but he could not just stand by and leave her to her feelings all night. It had been he who was wrong, and he should say something to her to acknowledge it, if not ask for forgiveness. He had told her that consequences would ensureobedience, but this, he couldn’t help but feel, would only leave her more?—
Before the thought could come to a close, a sound caught his ears, something puncturing the silence around him. A crash. And it was coming from Innes’ chambers.
Without a second thought, he made a break for her room, throwing open the door without bothering to knock.
“Innes?”
He called out into the room, at first unable to see her. For a moment, he wondered if she had somehow scaled the walls and made an escape, but they were at the top of a tower—she would never have been able to manage it. He strode into the room, cast his eye around, and when he saw what had become of her, terror gripped his chest.
She was slumped over on one arm next to the fireplace, a cup beside her that seemed to have recently been the vessel for some warm tea. A tray with a pot was perched beside the fireplace, and one of the letters he had seen in the trunk had been torn open beside it.
“Innes,” he muttered, reaching down with one arm to try to pull her close and investigating the torn-open packet with the other hand.
Inside, there looked to be dried herbs. A tea of some kind.Her brother had been sending her tea?It made little sense to him, but then, he did not know her clan well…
All at once, he heard a gasp beneath him, and he turned back to Innes. Her eyelids were fluttering, her skin pale, and her lips parted as she tried to draw breath. He wrapped his arms around her, drawing her upright, pushing back the dark hair that had fallen into her face.
“Innes, please! Can you hear me?”
At the sound of his voice, she let out a cry and reached out to shove him away. He did not let go of her. He had no choice butto restrain her if she were this erratic so close to the fire roaring away in the hearth between them. If something happened to her…
Her fist balled in his shirt, pulling him forward. And, as she slumped into him, he felt her go limp once more. He tried to pull her back, but she did not stir.
