The Scot's Angel - Keira Montclair Page 0,22

upset and feeling guilty. He’s looked up to your father ever since he found him.”

Everyone knew the story of how Thorn and Nari had introduced themselves to her sire and Gregor Ramsay. While Thorn had claimed to be a Grant, Nari had said he was a Ramsay. At the time, neither had ever met a Grant or a Ramsay, but they’d heard plenty of tales of both clans and had admired them from afar for years. They’d been beside themselves to realize they had run into two of the warriors they’d always wished to emulate.

Loki had taken them in, and they’d become honorary Grants. He’d brought them to visit often, and Claray had always felt drawn to them, not just because they had helped rescue her and her mama but because she wasn’t a true Grant either.

Her mother gave her a look. “You know that I can tell whenever you think less of yourself. You are a Grant and so are they. Grandmama told you so, and so has everyone else. Many times.”

“I know, Mama. But I feel bad for my part in this. If I hadn’t screamed, Thorn wouldn’t have run in and knocked the ladder. I need to talk to him, apologize for my part.”

“Then you can apologize for my part, too. Your father was right. I shouldn’t have been up on the ladder without better support. Especially since I had to lean over so far. Had I not been on the ladder, this would not have happened. Had I waited for Aunt Elizabeth to get to the door, this wouldn’t have happened. Too many things went wrong. Am I not correct?”

She couldn’t stop two tears from meandering down her cheeks. “And had I not complained about the bow being crooked, you wouldn’t have climbed the ladder to fix it.”

“Claray, we all saw it. Someone had to fix it, and I took it upon myself to do the job. Stop trying to carry the guilt, please. Find your man because I suspect you were quite pleased to hear that Thorn wants to pursue your hand. Aye?”

She blushed and smiled, the tears drying up. “Aye, I have strong feelings for him.”

“You always have. You feel like you have something in common.” She reached up and brushed away the last tear from Claray’s face.

“Aye,” she whispered. “I feel connected to him, and he’s hurting, Mama. I have to go. Please don’t be upset with me.”

“Your father reminds me you’re getting much older, and ’tis time for me to let you go. So I will allow it. You are over thirty summers. You’re no longer a lassie. Do as you must, but please…please promise me that you will listen to everything your sister says. Do not go out on your own. Do. Not. Do you promise me?”

“Aye, I’m too afraid to go off on my own, Mama, or I would have followed him already.”

“Go, and find your happiness. I never thought I’d find mine, and look at me. This broken leg is nothing compared to the pain I used to feel inside.” She squeezed Claray’s hand, the tears in her eyes telling her that her mother didn’t hold anything against her for screaming. She’d forgiven her already, just like always. “I apologize that you had to learn to fear spiders, but our life has improved much since those days.”

Claray leaned down and kissed her mother’s brow. “I love you, Mama. I’ll be home soon.”

Her mother’s eyes were heavy with fatigue, so she left her to rest.

Hastening to her chamber, she packed the basic necessities, grabbing, at the last moment, some of the new items Aunt Jennie had brought. She’d thank her again on her way out.

Thorn filled her thoughts as she prepared for the journey. She’d always felt a special bond with him, even before that long-ago festival. She’d thought it was because he was an orphan and she an outsider, but it went deeper than that. Her first memory of Thorn was of him helping her up after she’d fallen. He’d done that often.

She plunked down on the bed, her mind racing. Thorn had protected her just as her sire had. Was that why she felt so drawn to him?

Cordell had been a brave warrior, a handsome man, but it had been impossible to tell if his affection was for her or for her status as the laird’s daughter. And then he’d been wrenched from life in a cruel way, and her emotions had been confusing. She’d been sad, aye,