She knew that hand, even before she saw the name.
“Eleonor…” The word left her in a breath that was half-laughter and half-relief.
All composure abandoned her at once. She broke the seal with none of her usual care, unfolding the letter quickly, but she could not bring herself to mind it. Her eyes moved across the page, devouring each line as though it might vanish if she lingered.
Me dear Margaret,
Receiving yer letter has made me so happy. I was reading it while seated in front of the fire of our little place, with me cat Tom by me feet.
Margaret smiled, warmth flooding her so suddenly it nearly overwhelmed her. She could see it: her sister, bright-eyed and breathless with happiness, finding joy in something simple and entirely her own.
We have waited, as ye asked, and we hope, if it is safe, that ye might come tae us. Both of ye. There is much I wish tae tell ye, and even more I wish tae hear.
I miss ye more than I can put tae paper.
Yer ever loving sister,
Eleonor
Margaret lowered the letter slowly. For a moment, she simply held it there, her gaze lingering on the familiar strokes of her sister’s hand as though committing them to memory all over again.
“She wants us to visit,” she told him, as though the thought itself still felt unreal. “Both of us.”
There was no hesitation in her tone when she said it, and no question of whether he would go, only hope. She stepped closer without thinking, the letter still clutched in her hand.
“May we?” she asked, though it was not quite a plea, more a shared anticipation.
Domhnall’s gaze held hers. There was no resistance there.
He considered it for a single moment. “Aye.”
Margaret’s smile broke fully then, the kind she had not allowed herself in longer than she cared to admit.
“Thank ye,” she told him tenderly.
Domhnall’s expression did not change much. It rarely did. But his hand moved, then closed around hers, with the letter still caught between them.
“Ye need nae thank me for that,” he urged.
Margaret did not draw her hand away. Still, before she could answer, he shifted slightly, and his grip loosened just enough to free his other hand. There, he held the second letter, the one she had barely noticed in her eagerness.
“There is another,” he said.
Margaret’s gaze dropped to it at once, with curiosity sharpening through the warmth still lingering from her sister’s words.
“For me?” she asked.
“For us,” he corrected.
That alone was enough to make her look up again.
Margaret tilted her head slightly. “And ye have nae yet told me what it contains.”
A faint flicker of amusement touched his mouth.
“I thought tae see whether ye would ask.”
She huffed softly. “Ye are impossible.”
