12
The remainder of the week passed by in a blur. Somehow, she and Cameron and Alec all fell into a routine that managed to feel almost normal. Her days would begin with breakfast with Cameron. They would discretely work on his manners while they discussed whatever plans he had for the day, but their conversations were shallow and formal.
After breakfast, Alec would find her in the gardens. It was very reminiscent of their days at her father’s castle where they would sneak away from prying eyes and spend hours in the sunlight. Here, she was much more hesitant to spend quite so much time with Alec, but she did her best to appease him anyway.
They would eventually part and Charlotte would be free to read or work on her embroidery project, but she knew that Alec was watching her every move. She could feel his eyes on her no matter where she went. The only place she could manage to hide was her own chambers, and that was only during the day. There were too many maids in and out of the halls for him to slip in unnoticed, though Alec always seemed to manage to be there when she was finished with dinner.
She had yet to share a midday meal with Cameron, often being told that he and Alastair were sequestered in the study, discussing clan business. But her invitation to dinner came without fail. And she attended, finding that those few hours together were the highlight of her day.
The longer the three of them continued with their pattern, the more sure she became that someone had figured out Alec was more than a servant to her. She hadn’t dared to bring up their earlier argument or Cameron with Alec again. She knew they would have to address their situation sooner or later, but it wasn’t a conversation that she was looking forward to having. There was no telling how Alec would react and she had no one else to ask for help.
Not for the first time, she considered going to Cameron for help. She would explain to him the circumstances, how Alec had followed her even though she hadn’t wanted that. She would tell the Laird that the relationship she had with Alec was little more than a childhood rebellion, that she didn’t have any lingering feelings for the stable boy. She would explain Alec’s temper and hope that Cameron would believe her, that he would be kind enough to help her out of the mess she had gotten herself in. And then she thought better of it.
If Cameron knew about Alec he would have no choice but to send her back to her father. She would be disgraced, her reputation would be in tatters. And that was only if her father allowed her to return home. That was simply not an option.
So she bided her time, hoping that Alec would lose interest or that Cameron would force her hand. She couldn’t see a way out of the situation that ended well, but she clung to the hope that everything would work itself out in the end.
In the meantime, she spent those precious few hours she had to herself drafting letters to her father. He was unrelenting in his requests for information. So far, she had given him a detailed layout of the castle and surrounding courtyard, a rough estimate of the number of guards posted around the castle, and the names of Laird Knox’s council, though that was a short list. She sometimes wrote to him about what she and Cameron had discussed at dinner, but she never mentioned the eccentricities of her betrothed.
Cameron had been so vulnerable, so open to her help, that she didn’t want to betray him. It already felt sleazy enough to be sending her father information about her future husband and his clan, but that was a line she wouldn’t cross. Cameron had trusted her, admitting that he had never been taught table manners. That same trust had been extended the night she found him in the library having a breathing attack. He had asked her not to tell anyone about it and she was going to keep her word. She still didn’t know why her father was demanding to know so much about the Knox clan when they were supposed to become allies. He had promised that her marriage to Laird Knox would be the thing that solidified the agreement, yet was still treating him as an enemy.
She finished her most recent letter, folding it up and sealing it with her seal, before she pushed herself from the desk. Her shoulders and neck were stiff after spending so much time pouring over every word that she wrote. She had wanted to make sure it was perfect, that she had given her father enough information to delay another letter. Now, all she had to do was send it.
Leaving her chambers, she sought out one of the footmen and asked them to post her letter, with a few coins to show her appreciation. As soon as the note was out of her hand, she realized that she had nothing else to do for the rest of the afternoon. It had been too cloudy and rainy for her to spend any length of time outside—no walks, no rides, no garden. It was a welcome reprieve from spending so much time with Alec. But now she was at a loss with what to do with herself.
For a moment, she stood in the doorway of the castle and watched the world pass by her. When the rain picked up again, she decided it was the perfect reading weather. With her decision made, Charlotte strode towards the library, already thinking about which book she would read next.
Not bothering to knock on the door, Charlotte burst into the room, savoring the smell of leather and paper and a crackling fire. It had quickly turned into her favorite spot in the castle, though she didn’t spend nearly as much time there as she wanted to. Today, she was determined to let herself lounge about. At least, she was until she saw a figure on the sofa.
“Och,” she squealed, jumping in her shoes. “Forgive me, I did nae ken anyone else was in here.”
Cameron spun around to face her, his face taut as he took her in.
“That is nae problem,” he assured her, though his voice was tense. “I did nae mean to frighten ye.”
“I have never seen ye in the library at this time of day,” she admitted, trying to explain why she had been so afraid.
“Aye. Alastair had other business to take care of and I had a wee bit of free time.”
She nodded her understanding at his explanation. Neither of them said anything, letting the silence fill the room again. After a heartbeat, she noticed that she was still standing in the doorway, the handle still in her hand. Instantly, she dropped her hand and closed the door, stepping all the way into the room.
“I was just coming to find a new book. I will be out of yer way as soon as I can.”
He watched her move to the shelves without saying a word, his eyes guarded.
“Take yer time. Ye are nae botherin’ me.”
She twisted to respond, but he already dropped his head to turn his attention back to his own book. She tried to hide her disappointment as she let her eyes pass over the titles, not really seeing anything. Ever since the night she had found him there, struggling to breathe, something had shifted between them and not in a good way. There was a distance there that she couldn’t seem to cross no matter what she did. Cameron was, of course, polite and kind, but the warmth, the closeness she had begun to feel with him had disappeared. It made moments like these uncomfortable and awkward.
All but giving up on picking a book she would be interested in, Charlotte reached for the closest thing to her and pulled it off the shelf. She tucked it under her arm and turned to tell Cameron she was leaving. She had wanted to spend the afternoon curled up in the library, enjoying the sounds of the rain falling on the glass, but not enough to interrupt Cameron.
Just as she opened her mouth to speak she noticed his own mumbling. His words formed over a word that he couldn’t quite make out. She watched him for a moment, holding her breath, waiting to see if his struggles would devolve into another breathing spell. She debated whether or not she should offer to help him, knowing the closeness between them was gone, but still wanting to be his friend.
After another minute of watching him grow irritated with the book, she decided she would ask if he wanted her help. If he said no, she would leave and never bring it up again. If he said yes, well, she would see what he would say first.
Abandoning her book on a side table, Charlotte moved to where he sat and peered over his shoulder.
“Miscellaneous. That was one that always tripped me up as well,” she told him. “It means things that do nae belong to the same category.”
