since before the days of the first earl of Tiebauld.”
“And those are the ones who wish to rebel.”
“Yes, those who hate the English.”
The moon came out from the clouds. Its light tipped the waves. It was so beautiful here. It would be hard to imagine it all destroyed.
She looked to him. “Aidan, do the Clearances bother members of our clan?”
“No. So far I’ve been able to protect them. My money has buffered them from the likes of the ‘improvers.’ But Deacon’s family lost everything.”
“Then let him and his brother fight—if they are foolish enough. This is why he tried to get me to leave, isn’t it?” She didn’t wait for his answer, but went on, “They do not have to drag you into their fight. The stakes are too high!”
“Anne, it’s too late. For years I’ve tried to straddle two worlds. On one side are the other gentry, many of them more English than Scottish. On the other, my fellow clansmen. It is hard for you to understand the ties that bind us, ties that cut across social class. It’s the old ways. I can’t ignore them any longer. But I’ve said I will help only with the gunpowder. This is the end of my role.”
“No, because they will continue to need you, just as the smuggler needed my father.”
“You don’t understand. I must do this.”
“I understand what will happen if you are tried for treason and found guilty.” She railed at his stubbornness. “Do you? Have you any idea what it will be like?”
His expression could have been set in stone as he said, “I’ve made my decision, Anne.”
“You will die!”
“Perhaps. But it is my choice.”
His words wrapped around her heart like a vise. She took a step back. His actions were treasonous. The Crown would hang him.
She doubled over, the burden of grief almost more than she could bear.
He reached out. “Anne?”
“No, don’t touch me! I loved you.” She recoiled from him. “But you are going to destroy yourself and everything here. The castle, the people, everything you’ve built. This isn’t a game, Aidan. Or a little ‘healthy danger’ like stalking a mad wildcat.” Tears stung her eyes. The words choked her as she said, “It’ll be gone…all…gone.”
“Not if I’m careful—”
She cut him off. “You can’t escape it. And I can’t watch it.” She turned and ran.
He called after her but she did not stop. She couldn’t. She was in danger of crying and no good came of tears. He chose his fate. He chose to leave her.
Her foot slipped out of her kid shoe. She picked it up and kept running, heedless of stones on the path. She couldn’t feel them.
She couldn’t feel anything right now.
At the top of the cliff, Anne bypassed the house and ran for the stables. There, all was peaceful and quiet. It smelled of straw and hay. Familiar scents, comforting scents. The horses were asleep. Not even the dogs who had chosen the stables for their bed seemed surprised at her appearance. The animals didn’t know what the future held. They had no fears, no worries.
Finding an empty stall, she closed herself in, went to the furthest corner, and slid down the wall. Then and only then, when she was alone and need not fear being heard, did she release the huge hiccupping sobs of her grief, letting them overcome her.
The smallest dog, York, scratched at the stall, whining to come comfort her. But she couldn’t let him in.
She couldn’t let anyone in, not anymore. It hurt too much.
Helplessly, Aidan watched Anne run. She’d need time to understand. If she loved him, she must accept the man he was.
Love.
The word shimmered in his mind. He etched it in the sand with his toe, but the “L” turned into an “A” and he wrote the letters of her name instead.
She had to understand.
He walked up the path, words forming in his mind to convince her. And if they didn’t work, he’d kiss her into submission. His pace picked up. Yes, that was what he would do.
But inside, he didn’t find Anne in his room. “So, we’re back to that,” he muttered, and strode to the guest room door.
He pounded hard on it three times, and then shoved it open. She wasn’t there.
Aidan returned to his room. He told himself he should let her be, and yet he couldn’t. The sable throw still carried the imprint of her body. Her pins were on his wash stand.
Her very presence was woven into the fabric of