“Then why are ye here?” she snapped.
Silence hung heavy in the air. She regretted the words as soon as she said them and wanted to take them back. But Torquil’s firm set of his jaw as he stared at the fire told her that the damage had already been done.
His gaze clashed with hers, his eyes bright with fury. “I am here to convince yer family that I deserve ye as a wife. That their blessing would be a gift. But if ye cannae see that, there is naught left for me to do.”
He pushed out of the chair, grabbed his lute, and walked out of the chamber, slamming the door behind him.
For a long moment, Eilidh sat there, shaking, staring at the door, in stunned silence. Fearing that she pushed Torquil away for good.
What had she done?
She needed advice on how to move forward. On how she could fix this. Leaving her bedchamber, she sought out the only person she felt she could talk to about the predicament she found herself in.
Moira was in the kitchen enjoying a cup of heather tea when Eilidhfound her. “Can I speak with ye?” she asked her sister. Looking around at the servants still working in the kitchen preparing food items for the next day, she added, “In private.”
With a concerned look on her face, drawing her brows down, Moira came around the table and grabbed Eilidh’s hands. “What has happened?”
Eilidh shook her head. “No’ here,” she said, her voice cracking as she fought the tears that threatened to come.
Moira pulled her out of the kitchen and led her to their mother’s parlor. Peeking her head inside to make sure Lillias was not inside, she pulled her forward and shut the door behind them. Gesturing to a chair, she ordered Eilidh to sit.
She did so, wringing her hands in her lap.
“Tell me what is amiss. ’Tis clear ’tis something.”
Eilidh inhaled deeply. “I fear I am making a mess of my marriage.” Her breath hitched on a sob.
Moira was beside her, rubbing her back in comfort. “I am for certs that ’tis no’ as bad as ye believe.”
She shook her head. “But ’tis. I have pushed him away to the point that he left our bedchamber in a rush, furious.”
“Listen to me,” Moira said, pushing Eilidh’s hair out of her face and tucking it behind her ears. “Life would be so easy if a successful marriage was built only in the quiet moments. In times of bliss. But that is no’ what makes us strong. ’Tis no’ what builds the strong foundation to support a marriage that lasts. It is how we overcome the stormy moments that shows us how we will handle future situations.”
The tears that threatened earlier, were now falling freely down her Eilidh’s cheeks. “It seems that we have many storms compared to moments of quiet,” she sniffled, and Moira handed her a handkerchief.
“Tell me this. Do ye love him?”
Her first reaction was to answer quickly, but instead, she pondered Moira’s question. She thought back to the times she had shared withTorquil. Their talks of their future. Their shared moments of intimacy. She thought of how lonely she was when Torquil was not near. How she could only think about how she missed him so and always wanted to be by his side. “I do,” she answered finally. “Verra much so.”
“Then ye have yer answer. Fight. For ye. For him. For the both of ye. Our family, weel, the men in our family, can sometimes feel like ye are battling a stone wall, but ken that they also do it out of their love for ye. They dinnae want to see ye hurt. And, him being a MacGregor doesnae help, but…”
Eilidh laughed through her tears. “Why must we pick the most difficult path to love?”
Moira smiled and winked at her. “Because we are ornery like that.” She patted Eilidh’s hand. “Think aboot Torquil. What draws ye to him. The life ye foresee with each other. Examine the cracks that led ye to where ye are now. Fill those and ye will have yer foundation started. Build on that. Complete those steps, and all will work out in the end.”
“Thank ye.”
“Feel better?”
With a sniffle she nodded.
Moira stood. “I am always here to talk, dear sister.”
They hugged and Moira left her alone with her thoughts to ponder over the advice she had received. It was after some time of deep introspection that she realized that since they had arrived at Hartsmoor, they both had been performing. Trying to be what everyone expected of them. Trying to prove themselves, instead of just being themselves. The very thing that brought them together in the first place.
She returned to her room. In the corner, she found their half-finished songbook. Riffling through what they had written, she cried once more. Not out of sadness, but for the risk they were taking to be together. Retrieving a quill and inkwell, Eilidh sat at the table.
Furiously writing a melody of regret, the notes coming to her faster than she could write them down. Her one hope that Torquil would hear it.
