Page 67 of The Laird’s Sinful Claim

"Food was another method of control," Elinor continued quietly. "Not obvious starvation. Just... never quite enough. Always being hungry. Always aware that whether I ate or not depended entirely on his mood and whether I'd pleased him that day."

"It wasnae yer fault." David's free hand came up to cup her face, turning her fully toward him. "None of it was yer fault. Ye ken that, aye?"

"I'm starting to." She leaned into his touch, just slightly. "Being here, seeing this—" she gestured at the valley "—it makes me realize how small my world was. How much I was denied."

"Ye'll never be denied again." The words came out fierce, almost violent. "I swear it, Elinor. As long as ye're me wife, as long as I'm alive, ye'll never want fer food or freedom or anythin' else."

"You can't promise that."

"I can. And I am." He held her gaze, making sure she saw the truth in his eyes. "Ye're nae yer faither's daughter anymore. Ye're Lady MacDonald. And nay one—nay one—controls ye but yerself."

Tears spilled over then, tracking down her cheeks. David wiped them away with his thumb, his heart breaking for the girl she'd been and the woman she was becoming.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I don't usually cry like this."

"Dinnae apologize." He pulled her against his chest, wrapping his arms around her. "Cry if ye need tae. Scream if ye want. Ye've earned it."

She didn't scream. But she did cry, silently, her body shaking with the force of emotions too long suppressed. And David held her through it, his chin resting on top of her head, his hands steady on her back.

The horses grazed below. The wind whispered through the heather. And slowly, gradually, Elinor's tears subsided.

"Better?" he asked quietly.

"Maybe." She pulled back, wiping at her face with her sleeve. "I've made your shirt wet."

"Aye, well." He tilted his head. "Though ye seemed to enjoy the view earlier," he teased.

Color flooded her face.

"Ye absolutely did." He grinned at her outrage.

He stood, offering her his hand. "Come on. We should head back. Ye've got a celebration tae prepare fer."

"I thought everything was already prepared."

"It is. But ye still need tae get yerself ready." He pulled her to her feet. "And I'm guessin' that takes some time."

"Are you saying I need a lot of work to look presentable?"

"Nay.” He said it easily, matter-of-factly, and watched her flush deepen. "Now come on. Before ye think of more reasons tae argue with me."

They mounted the horse again, this time with Elinor more relaxed in his arms. She leaned back against his chest without prompting, her body fitting perfectly into the space he made for her.

"David?"

"Aye?"

"Thank you. For—" She gestured at the valley behind them. "For everything."

"Ye're welcome." He pressed a kiss to the top of her head before he could think better of it. "Anytime ye need to escape, to breathe, ye tell me. We'll come back here. Or somewhere else. Wherever ye want."

"What if I just want to escape the castle for an afternoon? No particular destination?"

"Then we'll ride. Nay questions asked."

"I'm starting to think I might actually like it here."

"Just startin' tae think?"