Page 87 of Owned by the Scarred Laird

“Nothin’,” he said. “Never mind.”

Whatever had come up in her face went back down, folded away as neatly as her hands, and she turned back to her plate.

“Of course, Me Laird.”

Down the table, Tyler set his cup down hard, the sound of it sharp enough to make Duncan glance over, and said, to no one in particular, “Well. This is a cheerful supper.”

Nobody answered him.

Chloe kept eating her three small bites. Edward kept his eyes on his plate and did not trust himself to open his mouth again for the rest of the meal. It was only when the trestle boys came to clear the dishes that Mrs. Donnan appeared at his shoulder, bent down, and said, low enough that only he could hear it, “A rider’s just come in from Hendry’s lands, me Laird. Says it cannae wait till mornin’.”

Edward was on his feet before Mrs. Donnan had finished the sentence. “Bring him in.”

But it was not Edward the rider had come for. Mrs. Donnan returned a moment later with a folded letter in hand, mud-spotted at one corner, and set it down in front of Chloe instead.

“For ye, me Lady. Rider said it couldnae wait for the mornin’ post.”

Chloe turned it over. She recognized the seal before she’d broken it.

MacLaud.

Down the table, Tyler had become very interested in his cup. Duncan had stopped chewing entirely, his fork halfway to his mouth, watching the letter.

“Well?” Duncan said when the silence had gone on a beat too long. “Are ye goin’ to open it or stare at the wax all night?”

“Give her room, ye great ox,” Tyler muttered, and kicked him under the table for good measure.

Chloe broke the seal and unfolded it at the table, the hall quieter around her than it had any right to be over one letter, Edward watching from his end with the same careful stillness he’d worn since the distillery.

Chloe, my dear girl,

We think of you often and wonder how you fare in your new home. Is your husband kind to you? You need only say the word, and we will send for you ourselves. You are always welcome here, for as long as you wish to stay, and no explanation is required.

We wrote to you some months ago and heard nothing back. We hope this finds you well and that the silence was due to poor roads rather than anything worse.

With love always, Jenny and Thomas

Chloe read it once, then again, aware of Edward’s eyes on her the whole time and of her own hands, which had gone very still around the page.

“What does it say?” Edward asked.

“It asks if me husband treats me well.” She kept her voice even; the tone cost her nothing to produce anymore, she’d had enough practice at it. “They say I am welcome to visit. Whenever I like.”

Duncan’s fork finally made it to his mouth. He chewed with tremendous concentration and said nothing, which, for Duncan, was its own kind of statement.

Edward’s jaw worked once, then stilled. “And what will ye tell them?”

“I havenae decided.”

“Ye should go,” Tyler said, into the silence that followed, apparently deciding someone at this table needed to say something useful.

“Nobody asked ye, Tyler,” Edward said, without any real heat in it, and Tyler raised both hands and went back to his cup, wisely.

Chloe folded the letter back along its own creases and said nothing further through the rest of the meal.

She ate her venison, more of it than she had for a few nights running, she noticed, as though the letter had loosened something enough to let her be hungry again.

Edward was the first to leave the table, murmuring something to Mrs. Donnan about the ledgers before he disappeared down the corridor toward the study, the way he did most nights now.