Silence settled between them as they sipped their ale. The common room was blessedly quiet now, with only the soft pop of the dying hearth and the muted sounds of Ewan tidying in the kitchen.
It was a companionable moment, and after the day she’d had, Fiona found she needed it more than she’d realized.
At last, she cleared her throat and met Eithne’s eye. “So … did I pass my first day of work?” she asked, trying to sound lighter than she felt. “Will ye keep me on?”
Eithne inclined her head. “I think so. Ye’re the hardest-working lass I’ve ever had serve in here.” She paused. “Just make sure ye don’t exhaust yerself.”
Fiona smiled back. “I was hoping to make a good impression,” she admitted. “Though Iama hard worker.”
Their gazes held for a moment before Eithne nodded, her lips curving into a half-smile.
She was an interesting woman, friendly yet reserved. There was none of the instant closeness Fiona had once shared with Carrie, and remembering how that had ended, she knew that wasn’t such a bad thing.
She wasn’t looking for friendship here.
Just a job. A roof. An honest living.
Carrying a lantern, Fiona stepped outside to the low-slung annex at the back of the tavern.
The night was fine. A silver moon rode high in a cold black sky. All was still, save for the distant bark of a dog.
After the noisy sprawl of Dounarwyse Castle, Ardnacross felt half-asleep—quieter even than Craignure. It would take some getting used to. But her days would be full. And that was what mattered.
She needed time. Time to heal. Time to begin again.
Ye could go back, a small voice whispered.Lady Kylie would welcome ye.
And she would. Fiona was grateful for that kindness. Lady Kylie had always treated her with warmth and respect.
If only her opinion were the only one that mattered.
But when Fiona thought of the servants within those walls—of Rowan, who’d betrayed his own friend out of spite, and of Carrie, who’d resented her over a man not worthy of either of them—she knew returning would be a mistake.
Of course, Ailean hadn’t understood. He’d looked at her with exasperation, then with that quiet, pleading expression, as if willing her to set pride aside. But he was the laird’s son. Until yesterday, he’d never known what it was to stand where she stood.
How precarious it was.
She’d known though—and yet she’d still taken the risk.
Thinking of Ailean made her belly tighten, her chest ache. No. She would not dwell on him. Not now. With luck, his father would summon him back within a few weeks. Rae Maclean’s temper would cool. Ailean’s birthright would be restored. He would be forgiven.
She felt a small, bitter twist in her gut at that.
Life had always been easy for Ailean. No wonder he was so reckless. No wonder he’d believed he could throw everything away and somehow still land on his feet.
And what’s yer excuse?The quiet voice asked.Why did ye let him near ye?
Aye, that was the question. She’d told herself she’d been carried away by the excitement of it all, and there was truth in that. But it wasn’t the whole story. Perhaps there was something in her that broke things before they could break her.
As she stepped into her small room beside the laundry, her throat started to ache.
Maybe, deep down, she hadn’t believed she was worthy of her position at Dounarwyse.
Maybe there was a part of her that believed the words her mother had spat at her over the years.
Lying upon a bed of rough sacking, Ailean stared up at the night sky. The floors above had given way, and the roof had long since collapsed, giving him an unobstructed view.
God’s blood. The task before him was enormous. Crushing.
