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Amelie awoke the following day yawning. The bed was softer than the one she was used to in the nunnery, so her body had found it difficult to rest. On top of this, it seemed as though the noises hadn’t stopped at all during the night. There was always something occurring in and around the keep, some rattling or clattering, murmurs of conversation, footsteps slapping, or people outside speaking well into the night. The place was alive in a way that the nunnery simply wasn’t, and Amelie wondered how Pascal had ever gotten used to it. It was a miracle that anyone had managed to fall asleep.

She rubbed her eyes and looked at the dress that hung in the closet. There was still a day or so to go until the birthday feast took place, and she didn’t want to wear it just yet in case she ruined it. She wanted to show Bridget that she cherished the gift. So, she donned her smock again and went out to face the day. She shuffled through the keep, keeping her head bowed and her body close to the walls. Whenever she heard a flutter of conversation, she veered in the other direction, not wanting to risk getting caught up in such a thing. People knew she was the Laird’s sister, after all, and she feared some people might seek her out.

She resisted the urge to stay in her room. She wanted to make Pascal proud, and tried to remind herself that they were right; this was technically her home, so she should not be afraid to walk its halls. These people would not shun her, because if they did then they would face the wrath of their Laird, and with all the guards around she was probably safer here than she was in the nunnery. Even though all these things ran through her mind, Amelie still had to breathe deeply and endure a quivering heart. Around every corner, she expected something to leap out and frighten her, and she worried that in every shadow there was something ominous lurking.

But she managed to make it outside, which was a triumph for her. She glanced around nervously and wandered around the grounds, trying to keep moving because she knew that if she stood still then it was more likely that some stranger would try and speak to her. She wondered if Pascal had told them all that she suffered from mutism, or perhaps the tale of his strange, silent sister had already spread through the clan. She remembered years before when people had teased her for not speaking, always taunting her with questions that they knew she would not be able to answer.

If ye dinnae say anything then ye admit that ye are ugly.

If ye dinnae say anything then it means that ye smell.

If ye dinnae say anything…

Amelie clamped her eyes shut for a moment, tensing inside to ensure that the hot emotions would not trickle from her eyes as they had done so often in the past. It was better to just avoid people as much as possible. She thought about the horse that she had seen the previous day and strolled towards the stables. She always preferred the company of animals. They weren’t cruel or mean, and although they could make sounds they did not have mastery of language either. She often knew what they were thinking, however, by looking into their eyes.

The stables were busy, so she managed to make her way to a horse without being noticed. She had learned how to saddle one a long time ago. She was in the process of doing it when suddenly a large shadow loomed over her.

“Let me get that for ye, miss. Gaeing for a wee ride, are ye?” the stablehand asked with a cheery grin. Amelie blushed and looked away.

“Well, ye hae picked a good day for it,” he added. Amelie dipped her head and wished that he had just allowed her to get on with it herself. She waited patiently and then hauled herself up, stepping onto a nearby stool to help. She refused to take the man’s hand. She smiled shyly at him and then immediately geed the horse, riding it away from the stables. She felt relieved that she had managed to navigate that nightmarish encounter.

The wind blew across her face, sweet and clear. The weather was temperate and mild, which was rare for the Highlands. She veered the horse away from the keep. Even from this distance though it still looked gigantic, although it was a far cry from Paris with its narrow streets and clustered houses. It was such a suffocating city, and yet it had seemed cavernous and lonely as well. The alleys were wide and separate from the houses. They were cold as well, made colder by the sight of fire flicking in the windows of homes. It was almost like there were two versions of Paris, one that beggars experienced; the hard, cruel struggling world, and one that people of wealth knew, the comfortable, luxurious city that with no end of wonder. At least there was just one version of the Highlands, beautiful, majestic, and with plenty of open spaces in which to ride.

Amelie headed down to and passed along the row of trees, feeling more at home here. She was not going to venture away from the territory and made sure that the keep remained in her line of sight. The houses here were sporadic, and while she occasionally saw people gathered around, they were not in any daunting quantity. There were a few children who waved at her as she passed, and she waved back. She paused in the long grass, allowing the horse to catch its breath for a moment. She gazed into the distance, watching travelers and merchants arriving along the long road that wound through the Highlands like a snake. Then she turned and gazed at the open, endless world. If she possessed an adventurous spirit then it would have been such a wondrous thing to behold, but instead, she thought of her nunnery, of the small part of the world in which she wanted to nestle, like a squirrel hiding away in a nook of a tree. The world was there for other people to explore, and other people were welcome to it.

When Amelie returned to the keep, Pascal told her that Fleur should be arriving presently. A rider from their party had already arrived to notify Pascal. Amelie went inside the keep to have some food, but lingered near the entrance so that she would not miss Fleur’s arrival. When the carriage eventually stopped outside the keep, Amelie rushed out just as Fleur was stepping down from the carriage, helped by Lachlan. Amelie was in such a rush that she wasn’t concentrating and caught her foot on an upturned stone. She went clattering forward and fell onto stinging palms.

Fleur immediately rushed to her side.

“Oh, Amelie, ye are nae hurt, are ye?” Fleur held Amelie’s hands gently, turning them over to check them for wounds. She wore a look of concern, the same look a mother would have for a child. “This is just like ye, when ye were younger I always hae tae watch ye carefully because ye were always falling over,” Fleur said.

Amelie pulled her hands away. She didn’t need reminding of her childhood accidents, nor did she particularly want Fleur to fuss over her as though she was a child. Amelie was 25 now, a woman by any measure rather than a girl, but it was difficult to be like that when Fleur was used to treating her as if she was still young. Fleur helped her up.

“Ye know ye always need tae look where ye are gaeing, Amelie. Ye should nae rush about like that,” Fleur said. Amelie bowed her head. Whatever confidence she had gained by going to the stables herself and riding around the land had vanished immediately. Fleur gave her a sympathetic look and then Lachlan approached. Amelie brightened when she saw him. He took her in his powerful, strong arms and he smelled just like the forest, a scent that had been with her ever since Lachlan had first taken the siblings in.

“Ye always were one for getting intae trouble,” Lachlan said with a twinkle in his eye. “Although I suppose ye will remind us how tae behave.”

“She is here tae celebrate her birthday,” Fleur said, arching an eyebrow. Following them were Amelie’s two nieces, two children who looked just like their parents. They were nudging each other playfully and only stopped when Fleur gave them a sharp word. Amelie envied them for being able to grow up with two parents who loved them and in a world that did not seek to shun them. It was one of the few times she regretted shutting herself away in the nunnery, for when the children came to her they acted as though she was a stranger. Their encounters had been sporadic over the years, and they must have met so many people that Amelie was little more than another face in the crowd. They nodded and smiled at her awkwardly.

The difference in their reaction to her and to Pascal was markedly different. When the Laird arrived, the children leaped with joy and were gathered into his arms. They squealed and giggled, and looked delighted to see Bridget as well. Amelie stepped back, allowing this greeting to take place. As she observed her family together like this, sharing smiles and laughter and well wishes, she couldn’t help but notice the easy camaraderie that was shared between them. She missed out on so much when she was in the nunnery, and perhaps it was coming to the time when she had to realize that she wasn’t a part of this family in the same way as she used to be. The family had grown to include others, and Amelie could feel herself being pushed aside. It wasn’t anything anyone did intentionally of course, but it just happened to be one of those things that occurred over time and could not be helped at all.

She remained quiet, and since the others were used to her being quiet, nobody thought anything was amiss.

* * *

Amelie had spent most of the day with her family, although she retired in the afternoon, claiming that she needed to rest and say prayers. She knelt by her bed and bowed her head, thinking solemn thoughts and asking for the strength and courage to brace herself against all the tumultuous emotions that whirled through her mind. She told herself that soon enough she would be back in the nunnery. Pascal and Fleur had both found the places in which they belonged, and now she was more convinced than ever that the nunnery was such a place for her.

In the evening, she went down to join the family for some tea, although it happened that it was just the girls. Pascal had taken Lachlan to check on the guards. Fleur and Bridget smiled at Amelie. Amelie set herself on a chair in the corner and placed her hands in her lap. Fleur and Bridget were chatting happily with each other.

“Lachlan and I hae been discussing whether tae leave and come tae live here. Business is good in the clan, and I hate tae move away from Orla and Hamish after everything they hae done for us, especially as they like being near their grandchildren. But when I’m here, I feel sae much closer tae our mother. This is our family home, and I would like our children tae know that they belong in the Highlands.”

“I suppose either way it’s good that ye hae a choice, considering that before ye dinnae feel welcome anywhere,” Bridget said with a warm smile.

“Aye, there was a time when I dinnae think we would ever find a home here. Why, it’s been a long time since we hae even spoken French!” She turned towards Amelie wearing a wide smile and rattled off some French. It sounded strange coming from her tongue now, tinged with the Highland accent.

“Oui,” Amelie smiled in reply and promptly bowed her head again.

“I will miss Hamish and Orla, but I want to be close tae Pascal,” Fleur turned to Amelie, “and perhaps ye might consider leaving the nunnery tae live with us? It would be like old times, just the three of us taegether.”

And the rest, Amelie thought to herself, although she did not say it out loud. There were many thoughts that had remained unspoken over the years, and this was just another that was added to the pile. Fleur didn’t seem to notice that Amelie didn’t reply, but that was the way it had always been. Fleur suggested a course of action and Amelie went along with it, because Fleur knew best. She had decided where they would live back in Paris, she had warned them against wandering about of their own accord. The only time that Fleur hadn’t decided their course of action was when Pascal had to convince Fleur that it was fine to trust Orla. Pascal had saved Orla from a mugging, and Orla had followed him back, taken pity on the children, and offered to bring them home with her. Fleur was fiercely defensive and mistrustful, so she was not inclined to accept Orla’s help. Pascal had changed her mind though.

Fleur often knew best, but not always, and this time Amelie knew she was wrong. The nunnery was the place where she belonged.

The conversation moved on again, eventually settling on the subject of the feast. “I am looking forward tae the feast. It will be nice tae see ye all dressed up, Amelie. Ye hae been hiding away from the world for tae long. I dae wish ye hae asked me about ye hair though. I’m sure the nuns are gifted in many ways, and I certainly dinnae wish tae disparage them, but it’s clear they dinnae know what makes a good hairstyle,” Fleur tittered with laughter.

“I think it suits her,” Bridget said, and Amelie appreciated the compliment. She smiled warmly towards Bridget.

“Oh, of course, but yer long hair took a long time tae grow. It shimmered like sunlight,” Fleur said. She looked at Amelie in such a way that Amelie knew she was picturing her with long hair. Fleur possessed eyes like gems and full, sensual lips. Her cheeks were high, her chin soft, her hair thick and lustrous. She glowed with beauty. Amelie remembered a time, long ago, when people would say that the two of them looked similar and would be confused with each other. Amelie assumed they had said that either because they were blind or because they were making fun of her. She was nowhere near as pretty as Fleur, and would never be so. In Fleur, she saw all the qualities she did not possess; arrogance, self-belief, unwavering confidence in her place in the world, and the fiery spirit that came from inner strength. She was like a strong oak, unbending and unbroken by even the fiercest storm, while Amelie was just a stray leaf being tossed about by the unbidden wind, only settling when the skies were calm.

“I’m sure she will get the attention of plenty of men, especially because she will be the guest of honor,” Bridget said with a wry smirk on her face. Just the thought made Amelie blush a deep scarlet. A knot twisted in her stomach and she felt faint. Her knees pressed together, her elbows dug into her sides, and her hands were tightly locked. Everything went rigid in her body at once, as though she was paralyzed.

“That’s what ye need most of all, Amelie, a good man tae love ye and show ye all the delights that life can offer. Ye hae been in the nunnery for a good while now, but it is nae a place for one as beautiful and young as ye. The Highlands are a different place now. Perhaps there is a man for ye, and then ye could start a family here, with all of us,” Fleur said, smiling widely. Bridget looked delighted at the idea as well, and they started speaking of a future that Amelie knew would never take place; one in which she had a family and where all their children could play together, where another generation would rise, unburdened by the same kind of troubles that they had all endured.

Amelie didn’t say anything to dispel the notion, however. Let them have their dreams, she thought. She sat there quietly, as she always did, and let other people think about the future for her. All she wanted was to get this over and done with and then return to the nunnery, and she certainly wasn’t going to meet a man. The thought of being the guest of honor caused her to tremble with the utmost dread and horror, but she calmed herself by realizing that Bridget was just teasing her. After all, it was Pascal whom everyone had come to see and celebrate with. She was only there because he had invited her. It wasn’t as though she would have been missed had she remained in the nunnery. No celebrations would have been canceled if she had decided to stay away.

She bowed her head and thought of better times, times when there were fewer things expected of her. She sipped her tea and let Bridget and Fleur speak of families and men and all kinds of other things. How nice it must have been, Amelie thought, for Fleur to finally have a sister whom she could talk to in this way.