Elaina’s fingers curled slightly at her sides. She nodded, because that was the only thing she could do. She had secretly been hoping that he would be by her side during her walk through the market, and her heart fluttered at the very thought. However, she understood his obligations.
“Of course.”
He studied her for a moment, as if searching her face for something, perhaps hesitation, perhaps protest. She offered him neither, exactly because she understood. He was not just Duncan. He was a laird. And lairds did not have the luxury of lingering in moments like this.
“I willnae be long,” he added more softly now.
That softness nearly undid her.
“I ken,” she replied quietly.
Elaina wanted to ask him to stay, only the words never came, because she knew better.
Duncan gave a small nod, as if acknowledging something unspoken between them. Then he turned and walked away. Elaina watched him go and told herself she was not disappointed. And yet, her gaze lingered longer than it should have.
Only when he disappeared into the crowd did she finally turn back to the stall before her, forcing her attention onto the neatly folded fabrics displayed in soft shades of cream, blue, and muted green.
She exhaled slowly, steadying herself. This was why she had come, not to watch him walk away and not to linger in thoughts that made her chest ache in ways she did not yet understand.
Work.Purpose. Control.
The merchant started speaking, holding up a length of soft linen and praising its quality, but Elaina only half listened. She ran her fingers over the fabric, appreciating the weave and the durability, anything to anchor her thoughts somewhere practical.
“It would make fine bandages,” she murmured more to herself than to him.
“Aye, me lady,” the man replied eagerly. “Strong, but gentle enough fer the skin. I can give ye a fair price fer a full bundle.”
She nodded, selecting a few pieces before offering her thanks and moving on, with the guard remaining a silent presence at her side. The market stretched before her in winding rows of stalls, each one filled with life and color. Normally, she would have welcomed the distraction, the movement, the anonymity, but today she didn’t enjoy it nearly as much as she had hoped she would.
Her gaze flickered once, almost instinctively, in the direction Duncan had gone. He was gone.
Of course he was.
Elaina straightened her shoulders and forced herself forward. It did not take long for her to find what she truly needed. The healer’s stall was tucked slightly away from the louder vendors,its display more modest but far more familiar to her. Bundles of dried herbs hung from a wooden frame, their scents mingling in the air: lavender, yarrow, sage, and others.
Something in her eased the moment she stepped closer. This was hers, not the politics and the uncertainty that seemed to follow her wherever she went. This was something she understood.
The stall keeper, an older woman with kind eyes and weathered hands, looked up as Elaina approached.
“Well now,” she said warmly, a small smile forming on her lips. “Ye have the look of someone who kens what she’s searching fer.”
Elaina returned the smile. “I dae.”
“Then ye’ll nae be needing me persuasion,” the woman chuckled, stepping aside slightly. “Have a look. Everything’s fresh and properly dried. I gather most of it meself.”
Elaina’s fingers moved instinctively, brushing over the bundles, lifting a few to inspect them more closely. She checked their color, their scent, the texture of the leaves between her fingertips.
“Yarrow,” she said softly, more to herself than anything else. “Good quality.”
“Aye,” the woman replied, pleased. “Ye’ve a practiced eye.”
“Me maither taught me,” Elaina said, before she could stop herself.
The words lingered between them for a moment.
The woman’s expression softened. “Then she taught ye well.”
Elaina swallowed lightly but nodded, focusing back on the herbs before her. She selected a few bundles of yarrow, chamomile and a small pouch of dried willow bark, and set them aside.
