Chapter 34

34

E mily looked at the small trunk that had been delivered to her door. It was packed with her meager belongings, and she had been unable to resist packing the dresses that Adam had bought her.

At first, she thought she would leave them in the wardrobe, but as she opened it, she was faced with her wedding dress, and she closed it again hurriedly.

The servants were clearing her room even as she watched. Two men took her trunk down to the waiting carriage.

Emily felt dazed.

So this is it. I am finally goin' home.

She twisted the signet ring on her finger, desperate to see her father but still feeling deep sadness to be leaving the castle. Looking around at her room gave her a strange feeling of nostalgia. The pleasant décor still felt as homely as it had on that first day she had seen it.

Despite Lady MacNiall's offer, Emily had never had a chance to occupy the Lady's chambers. She hadn't felt settled or worthy enough to take up residence in those rooms.

Now she was glad she had made the decision. Somehow, it allowed her to disconnect from Clan MacNiall more easily. It made departing a little easier.

As she walked out into the courtyard, Freya and Lady MacNiall stood waiting for her. Adam was nowhere to be seen, and Emily's head pounded with the beginnings of a headache. She hated this. She wanted him to face her, bid her farewell—she wanted to make him say goodbye.

Freya came forward, looking very sad indeed, and gave her a hug. "I am sorry me braither is so stubborn," she said softly, just for Emily's ears.

Emily pulled away from her and forced a smile.

"I cannae believe he isnae here to see ye off."

Emily shrugged. "He has said his goodbyes. I am glad I will be seein' me faither and braither again."

"Ye ken ye are always welcome to return. Whenever ye wish," Freya insisted.

"I dinnae think yer braither would like that."

"To hell with me braither."

"Freya," Lady MacNiall admonished. "That is nay way to speak about yer Laird."

Freya rolled her eyes as Emily turned to Lady MacNiall. Adam's mother had the same stoic expression on her face as in the library. She seemed almost thoughtful but pulled Emily into a hug, nonetheless.

"Please write to us and tell us that ye have arrived home safely. At least we ken there are nay wicked lairds lyin' in wait now. All of Stewart's men have scattered and returned to his lands. Who kens what will come out of his death, but I am glad he is gone."

"So am I," Emily said sincerely. "I hope that Laura can return to ye as soon as possible and she is unharmed and safe."

Lady MacNiall nodded. "Adam received another letter from her. We understand she is with good people. I am sure she will return when she feels ready."

Freya tutted under her breath. "I will drag her home by her hair if she takes much longer."

Emily chuckled, giving her a final hug. As she did so, a book appeared between them, and Freya grinned.

Emily looked down at the copy of Gulliver's Travels Freya had handed her and smiled.

"Ye never did have a chance to read it. I mean it when I say ye are welcome to use the library whenever ye wish. If ye need me to send ye anythin', just write and ask. I'll send crates and crates of books. Tell me what ye think of that one once ye have finished it."

"Thank ye, Freya," Emily said gently, "for everythin'."

As she climbed into the carriage, she looked back at the entrance of the castle one final time. Her heart leaped as she saw a man standing in the entryway, but it was only Theo.

He placed a hand over his heart, lowering in a formal bow. As he straightened back up, he nodded at her with the same friendly and welcoming smile from their first meeting.

She nodded as the carriage pulled away, putting MacNiall Castle and Adam Kane behind her for the final time.

Adam was drunk.

He had guzzled far too much whiskey in far too short a time to be able to remain sober.

He hadn't eaten anything since midday the previous day, and Doughall was watching him incredulously from the other side of his desk.

The two men had left the cliffs and walked straight to his study. There, Adam had opened a fresh bottle, and they were already halfway through it.

His head was pounding, but he didn't care. He wanted to drown himself in the misery that was consuming him, and then he would move on as he had always done.

The faint sound of fading carriage wheels made nausea rise within him. He clamped one hand on the arm of his chair, preventing himself from leaping to his feet and running after Emily to stop her from leaving.

It is better she is gone. She will have the life she deserves.

At that thought, the door flew open so violently that both men jumped up in shock. Doughall's hand was on the handle of his dirk on instinct, but it was not a warrior who entered the room, but Lady MacNiall, looking like a whirlwind.

Her gaze was calculating and angry. She glared at her son and raised a scolding hand in front of her, a gesture that reminded Adam of his tutors when he was a boy.

"And what do ye think ye are doin'?" she asked irritably.

"Drinkin'."

"I can see that," she said, stalking toward the desk and plucking the bottle off the surface.

Adam cried out in surprise as she pushed open the window and emptied the contents on the ground beneath.

"What the hell are ye doin'?" he shouted, rising to his feet to grab the bottle from her, but it was too late.

She gave him such a withering glare in response that he sat back down again, the whisky roiling unpleasantly in his stomach.

"Ye are a fool, Adam Kane," she stated.

"Ye can hold yer tongue," he barked, but the effect was somewhat ruined as he belched loudly.

"Ye have let yer wife leave all because of yer pride."

Adam stared at his mother in amazement. "I have let her go as I planned. She was never truly me wife, ye ken that!"

He ignored Doughall's derisive scoff, just as it was echoed by his mother.

"She was yer wife, and ye are a dobber for lettin' her leave. Ye couldnae even come out to bid her farewell, hidin' in here like a frightened little boy."

Adam rose to his feet, pointing an accusatory finger at his mother. "Dinnae speak to me like that."

"Like what? Like a maither beratin' her son? Right at this moment, I am nae speakin' to me Laird, I am speakin' to the boy I raised, who has always blamed me for his faither nae bein' with him in his youth."

Adam clenched his fists and simply stared at her, unable to say anything in response.

"It is true, is it nae?" Lady MacNiall demanded. "Ye believe I forced yer faither to wage all of those wars, never allowin' him to come home? Tellin' him where to go, what to do. Ye believe I influenced his choices and that he died for it."

Her lip trembled as she spoke the truth Adam had believed all his life.

"If it hadnae been for ye, he would have been with his clan!" Adam spat.

"He was with his clan, ye damned fool," Lady MacNiall's voice rang out loudly in the quiet room. "Ye truly believe yer faither wouldnae have returned if he wished to? He loved his people, and he was there for his people because of me . I worked with the council every day when he was unable to be there in person. I conferred with him on everythin'. I was his eyes and ears, and he kenned exactly what his people needed. No decision was made in this clan without yer faither's say so, nae even which battle we would fight next."

She was standing proud and tall before him, and Adam had never seen her so resolute.

"I ken ye blame me, and I admit he should have returned to us durin' the final few years of his life. But he was determined to finish what he started. That last battle with the MacPhersons is why we are so close to peace. I believe that, and ye have upheld his legacy as nobly as I always kenned ye would."

She took a step toward him, her expression fierce.

"Why are ye avoidin' this marriage?"

"Because I dinnae need a wife."

"Aye, ye do." The words were firm and urgent as she took his hand in hers. "Nae just that, but ye need the wife ye have. When are ye goin' to understand that ye willnae lose anythin' by havin' Emily with ye? Ye will gain everythin'. Yer faither and I loved one another, and we made decisions together . I am only sorry me son is incapable of kennin' that feelin'. Ye cannae do everythin' alone. Nay one can."

As his mother spoke, all Adam could hear was Emily's voice in his head. It was exactly the same thing that she had told him when they had argued on the hillside.

He realized just how blind he had been.

It was na?ve of him to believe that he was so different from his father. That he alone had the will to lead his people.

What his mother had pointed out to him seemed so logical now that he considered it. His father had expanded their territories and fought for his people while his mother had managed the day-to-day business of the clan. Together they had forged a better world.

The MacNialls were stronger because of the lands they had conquered. They were richer because of the resources they had won. All of that was his father's legacy. Without his father's absence, it would never have existed.

Adam sat down heavily in his chair, feeling shaken. "I dinnae ken if she will forgive me," he said sullenly.

"I think she will," his mother replied. "She isnae half as stubborn as ye are. If ye believe for one moment that that sweet lass will be like me, ye are mistaken." Her voice was proud and strong as she looked down at him. "She will work with ye and make ye a stronger laird, I have nay doubt."

With that, she swept out of the room, leaving the two men somewhat stunned in the silence that followed.

Adam stared into the fire, thinking through everything his mother had said and what it meant for him. He felt ashamed that he had never spoken to her about his beliefs before and had never simply asked her what his father had wanted. He had demonized her for years without ever truly understanding the bond his parents had.

She believes I could have that with Emily.

His heart soared at the possibility.

All the doubts and concerns floated away as though they had never been. He imagined sharing his life with Emily. Not fighting with one another but working in tandem to improve their lives and the lives of their people.

Doughall rose to his feet, finishing the last of his whiskey and fixing him with a knowing stare. He slammed the glass down on the surface of the desk, leaning toward him, his expression intense.

"For once I agree with yer maither. Get her back before it's too late."