Page 55 of Wicked Kilted Highlander

CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE

Lara tossed and turned beneath the thick furs, her body tangled in the stifling material as she tried to find solace from her restless thoughts. The empty space beside her, a cold reminder that Darragh had not joined her, pricked at her heart like thistles on tender skin. Where was he sleeping? Tiredness weighed heavily upon her, pulling her eyelids low, but sleep remained elusive—a cruel tease in this torturous night.

In the suffocating darkness, her mind raced, replaying the evening's events with relentless precision. Darragh and Gregor's fight had been an explosion of raw emotion and roaring tempers, yet Lara couldn't fully understand why it had happened. She fretted over the consequences, fearing her web of lies about her false child would now unravel and spread among the clans, tarnishing her family's name. And all because of her father's outburst, sparked by the violence between the two men.

As dawn finally broke through the oppressive shadows, Lara greeted the pale morning light with both relief and frustration. Her weary limbs protested as she climbed from the bed, the cool stones underfoot sending shivers up her spine. She washed and dressed sluggishly, the exhaustion etched into every line of her body. Yet within her, the torrent of thoughts continued their tireless dance.

"What have I done?" she whispered; her voice barely audible even to herself. "What will happen when Faither kens the truth?"

The questions haunted her as she stepped into the corridor, the silence of the early morning pressing in around her. In that moment, she felt so terribly alone, the weight of her secret bearing down upon her slender shoulders.

"Morning, Lara," came a soft voice, snapping her from her reverie. It was her sister, Elsie, who stood before her, concern etching her lovely features. "Ye look as though ye've seen a ghost."

"Morning, Elsie," Lara replied, her voice strained. "I didnae sleep well."

"Is it because of the fight last night?" Elsie inquired gently, her warm eyes searching Lara's face for truth.

Lara hesitated, then nodded. "Aye, and other things too." She couldn't bear to confess her lie to Elsie. "I just… I dinnae understand why Darragh fought Gregor without any reason."

"Perhaps there was a reason we dinnae ken yet," Elsie offered, trying to soothe her sister's troubled heart. "Come, let's walk in the gardens. The fresh air will clear yer head."

As they ventured into the verdant sanctuary, Lara allowed the sweet scent of dew-kissed flowers to envelop her, hoping it would soothe her frayed nerves. But still, her concerns remained, gnawing at her like a starving wolf.

"Ye worry about our family, Lara," Elsie said softly. "And I worry for ye. We'll find a way through this together, as we always have."

Lara whispered, "I just wish I kenned what the future held for us all."

"Sometimes it's better nae tae ken," Elsie murmured, her arm wrapping around Lara's shoulders.

"Gregor," she whispered hesitantly, her gaze focused on the vibrant petals of a nearby rose. "I fear for what the future holds if ye are joined tae such a man."

Elsie paused, her brow furrowed as she considered her sister's words. "I understand yer concerns, Lara. But our faither arranged this union, and we must trust in his wisdom."

"Sometimes I wonder if our father sees clearly when it comes tae matters of the heart, after how much he suffered for our mathair," Lara confessed. "There is more tae Gregor than meets the eye, and nae all of it is good."

"Ye've always been perceptive," Elsie acknowledged, her eyes searching her sister's face, "but we must navigate these uncertain waters together, as we always have."

"Promise me," Lara implored, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Promise me that ye will nae blindly follow a path that may lead tae misery."

"I promise, sister," Elsie vowed, her hand gripping Lara's tightly.

As Lara and Elsie emerged into the courtyard, the morning sunlight filtered through the trees, casting dappled shadows that danced across the cobblestones. Birds flitted from branch to branch, their sweet melodies a soothing balm for Lara's troubled thoughts.

"Is it nae beautiful, sister?" Elsie whispered in a soft voice, her gaze following the flight of a sparrow as it darted above their heads.

"Aye," Lara murmured, her eyes scanning the courtyard, seeking solace in its tranquility. It was then that she heard the familiar cadence of Darragh's voice, a sound that made the turmoil within her only grow stronger.

Her gaze fell upon Darragh and Gil, deep in conversation, their expressions taut with tension. As she stepped closer, she caught fragments of their hushed words, “The bastard said he would teach Lara to behave once he had her in his be—I cannae even say it.”. She was shocked to hear that Gregor had said something so disrespectful about her. Her pulse quickened, her fingers curling into fists at her sides and she felt overwhelmed with guilt for being angry with Darragh.

"Enough!" Lara cried out, fueled by a sudden surge of determination. The men's voices ceased abruptly, their surprise evident as they turned to face her and Elsie. She met Darragh's piercing black stare. "I require a word."

With a curt nod to Gil and Elsie, Darragh complied, falling into step behind Lara as she led him away from prying eyes.

"Ye seem troubled," Darragh ventured cautiously as he watched her pace back and forth before him, her skirts rustling softly against the stone.

Gil's laughter echoed in the courtyard as Lara led Darragh away, his mirth a biting reminder of the precariousness of their situation. The corners of her mouth tightened in response, but she refused to let Gil distract her from the task at hand. There was more to her and Darragh's connection than met the eye, whether they acknowledged it or not.

The gardens were a sanctuary amidst the chaos, their vibrant foliage and delicate blossoms offering comfort. Lara's steps, however, held no grace this day. Her feet crunched on the gravel paths, each stride fueled by determination and desperation. Behind her, Darragh followed in silence, the soft rustle of his clothing a reflection of the tension coiling between them.