Chapter 12

E meric was not at breakfast the next morning. As Anna dragged herself downstairs, eyes grainy and head aching, she found herself looking around for him. She was still annoyed with him, but that didn't stop her feeling disappointed when he wasn't in the great hall.

Laird Douglas and Lady Hildie were there, along with a good number of the castle's residents. It seemed after last night's revelry, she wasn't the only one taking a late breakfast.

Hildie looked up with a smile as Anna entered and waved her over. "Come join us, my dear," she said, patting the bench next to her. "Cook has just brought out some fresh porridge."

The thought of porridge made Anna's queasy stomach do somersaults, but she dutifully took a seat next to Emeric's mother and forced a smile. "I think I might just have dry bread."

Laird Douglas snorted a laugh. "It seems I'm not the only one with a sore head this morning, eh?"

She'd been introduced to the laird last night. He was a big jovial bear of a man with laughter lines around his eyes and a voice like a foghorn. She seemed to remember challenging him to a drinking contest .

"You're definitely not," Anna agreed. "It feels like someone is driving a tent peg through my skull."

The burly laird laughed louder. "Ye are a lass after my own heart, ye are!" He gave her a good-natured thump on the back that nearly sent her face first into a bowl of porridge.

Forcing a weak smile, Anna gingerly bit into her piece of bread, hoping that it would settle her churning stomach. Despite the noisy chatter that filled the hall, she couldn't help but notice Emeric's prominent absence. His spot at the high table remained conspicuously empty and Anna tried to quell the strange mix of worry and irritation that rose within her.

She didn't like the way they'd left things last night. The memory of their argument flickered in her mind like a stubborn flame, resisting all her attempts to douse it.

The door suddenly flew open in a rush of cold air that whipped at the embers in the fireplace and sent a flurry of soot skittering across the flagged stone floor. Aislinn came barging in. Her typically rosy face was ashen, wind-blown locks hanging loosely around it.

"It's all gone wrong!" she cried, stomping over to the high table. "It's ruined!"

"Calm down, child," Hildie soothed. She laid a comforting hand on Aislinn's trembling shoulder. "What's gone wrong?"

Aislinn held up her hands in which she held a ragged bunch of flowers. Some attempt had been made to arrange them, but it hadn't quite worked out and they stuck out all over the place, tied with a stringy bow. Some were wilted and looked half-dead as though picked too early.

"The bouquets are awful!"

Laird Douglas blew out a breath and pressed his hand to his chest. "Dear God, lass!" he boomed. "Is that all? The way ye stormed in here I thought we were under attack!"

Aislinn turned a withering stare on her uncle. "What do ye mean ‘is that all?' My wedding is coming up and at this rate I willnae have a single bloody bouquet! I'll be the laughingstock of the Highlands!"

The laird raised an eyebrow at Aislinn's dramatics, but before he could speak, Anna cut in. "Maybe I can help."

All eyes turned to her.

"Ye can?" Aislinn asked.

Anna shrugged. "I got a job as a florist once." One among a hundred different things she'd tried. "And wedding bouquets were our specialty."

Aislinn's eyes widened in hope, her previous despair melting away. "Really? Ye could do that?"

Anna nodded, though she felt a flicker of doubt. She had, indeed, worked at a florist for a hot minute during her college years, but that consisted mostly of sweeping the floors and making deliveries. Her actual experience with arranging flowers was limited to say the least, and most of what she remembered involved being scolded by her boss for putting the wrong flowers together.

She pushed the doubt aside. After all, how hard could it be?

"I'm not promising a miracle," she cautioned, getting up from the bench and relieving Aislinn of the sorry bundle. She prodded at the wilted blooms thoughtfully. "But I think I can do better than this."

The relief on Aislinn's face was enough to steel Anna's resolve. Emeric might be avoiding her, but she could still help his sister out, couldn't she?

"I'll need to see what wildflowers you've got growing locally," she said. "Could you show me?"

"Of course!" Aislinn exclaimed, her eyes gleaming with renewed vigor now her crisis was being addressed. She grabbed Anna by the hand and started dragging her towards the door. With a last glance back, Anna saw Lady Hildie exchanging a bemused look with Laird Douglas before she and Aislinn ventured out into the chilly Highland air.

The cold wind whipped through their hair as they stepped outside, the ground still glistening from the rain that had lashed down during the night. The sky above was painted with brooding gray clouds that promised another downpour, but for now, the sun pierced through in spots, casting an ethereal light over the late summer fields.

Aislinn led Anna through the castle gates and along a well-worn path that meandered around a small glen, then up a gently sloping hill. It was there they found a meadow—a riotous bloom of colors. Poppies with their fiery heads bobbed gently in the wind among the swaying blues and purples of cornflowers and harebells. White daisies dotted the field, their sunny yellow centers filled with dew.

"Here we are," Aislinn said, spreading her arm out to encompass the scene. "We have, well... everything."

Anna breathed deeply and took a moment to take it all in—the vibrancy of the colors, the orchestra of bird songs and rustling leaves playing in the background. She was struck suddenly by how capricious this place was, the Highlands changing their mood as easily as the unpredictable weather. She'd seen this place's dark side when she'd gotten stuck in the bog, its cold fingers seeming determined to drag her down into oblivion, but now she was seeing its light side, its beauty and playfulness.

"It's lovely," she breathed.

Aislinn laughed and took Anna's hands. "I'm glad ye like it. Over here." Aislinn pulled her towards a patch of thistles, a strange choice for a wedding bouquet, but Anna remembered reading somewhere about their significance in Scottish folklore. Their prickly purple blooms would certainly add an interesting contrast to any arrangement.

"And we definitely need some of these," said Aislinn, bending down to pick some delicate sprigs of heather. "They're considered good luck."

For a while Anna and Aislinn lost themselves in the flower picking, moving from one patch to another, gathering armfuls of the fresh blooms.

A little later, Hildie came out to join them and when Anna was satisfied they'd gathered enough blooms, the three of them sat down in the long grass and began weaving bouquets, Anna doing her best to remember what she'd learned in the florist's shop as she instructed the others.

In the quiet rhythm of their work, a peace settled over Anna and her hangover began to lift. Hildie sang a soft Gaelic ballad, the lyrics carrying on the wind, and for an instant, everything else faded away—the castle's looming stone walls, the fact that she was lost in a time not her own. Even the argument with Emeric.

Their work was very messy at first, with most of their efforts being discarded. Eventually, though, through trial and error and a lot of laughter-inducing mistakes, the first arrangement began to take shape. It was an unconventional mix—thistles standing tall in proud purple among clusters of scabious and harebell, a few sprigs of delicate heather woven in for good luck.

As Anna held up the bouquet, Hildie and Aislinn clapped their hands in delight.

"I canna believe it!" Aislinn said. "Ye've made something so beautiful out of such an utter disaster."

"It's the least I can do," Anna said, holding the bouquet out for Aislinn to take. "After you've all been so kind to me."

Anna watched as Aislinn tenderly cradled the bouquet in her hands, stroking the petals as if they might turn to ashes at any moment. She saw the glimmer of tears in Aislinn's eyes and knew there was more to her sadness than just the sentimentality of a bride-to-be.

"What is it?" Anna asked softly. "What's wrong?"

Aislinn didn't answer immediately, choosing instead to watch a lark dip and weave through the air above them. When she finally spoke, her voice was filled with an echo of the same pain that Anna had glimpsed in her eyes.

"My father should be here," she said quietly, her fingers tracing the delicate lines of the heather blooms. "He should be part of this."

Hildie, who had been silently listening, reached out to touch Aislinn's hand. Her voice was soft and soothing as she spoke words in Gaelic that Anna didn't understand, but seemed to bring comfort to Aislinn.

"Where is he?" Anna asked softly.

Aislinn met her gaze with a teary stare. "Gone," she said softly. "Died nearly ten years ago when I was but a lass. Drowned when his boat sank in the loch."

Anna's heart clenched and she squeezed Aislinn's arm. "I'm so sorry," she whispered. "I cannot imagine what that must be like." Her own father might be in a world of his own most of the time and barely notice Anna's existence, but at least he was still here. How would she feel if he wasn't? It didn't bear thinking about.

Gently, Anna got to her feet and began to gather the leftover flowers scattered about, giving Hildie and Aislinn some privacy. She could hear the soft cadence of Hildie's voice comforting Aislinn and something like envy shot through Anna's veins. These people were poor by modern standards, with none of the luxuries she was used to. Everything they had, they had to work for. And yet, they were closer, happier, than Anna's own family had ever been—finding comfort and joy in simple things. It was strange to think they had what Anna, with all her twenty-first century luxuries, had never been able to find.

A drop of rain fell onto Anna's shoulder, followed by another on her cheek. Looking up, she saw that the patches of blue sky had been swallowed whole by ominous gray clouds.

"We should get back," she said. "Looks like it's going to chuck it down again. "

The others nodded. They packed up their flowers and began the walk back to the castle. But they'd not gone more than a few paces when the heavens opened.

Between one heartbeat and the next, the rain was lashing down in sheets, turning the well-trodden path into a muddy stream and soaking their clothes in moments. But instead of dampening their spirits further, it brought a spark of life back into Aislinn's eyes. She laughed and twirled about in the downpour like a child as they entered the castle courtyard.

"Come on, Anna!"

Anna found herself tugged into a wild reel as Aislinn clasped her hands, spinning them around in dizzying circles under the falling sky and she found herself laughing uproariously as she was soaked through to the skin, splashing in puddles like an errant toddler.

"Get on with the both of ye!" Hildie called. "Ye'll catch yer deaths of cold!" But despite her words, there was a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as she hurried to the door, seeking the sanctuary of the keep.

Dancing like an utter idiot in the rain, Anna felt strangely content. Or, almost content. Something was missing and she knew exactly what it was. Tall, broad-shouldered, hair the color of wet sand, and knew she couldn't put it off any longer.

She needed to speak to Emeric.

EMERIC HOISTED THE sack onto his shoulder, grunting with effort, and carried it over to the wagon. He heaved it onto the wagon bed atop the others and put his hands on his hips, trying to catch his breath.

"That's the last one," Angus said. "And just in time, by the looks of that sky. There's rain on the way."

Emeric nodded, too winded to speak. He and Angus had been working since first light in the granary, measuring grain, hoisting sacks, tallying the deliveries coming in from outlying crofts, trying to find some way to make the numbers work and put enough aside for the coming winter.

But no matter what they did, they kept reaching the same conclusion. Autumn would soon be here, winter hot on its heels, and they would not have enough grain to last through it.

Damn the MacDonalds and damn the circumstances that put his family in this position! Yet, despite his annoyance, he had to admit that the physical work, side by side with his old friend, had helped clear his head, dispel the confusion and unease that had sat like curdled milk in his gut.

He'd left the castle before first light—well before breakfast—grateful that he'd not bumped into anyone on his way down to the village. The walk had given him some much-needed solitude, time alone with just the wind and the heather for company. He'd forgotten just how much he'd missed it.

"Well, that's a pensive look if ever I saw one," Angus observed. His ruddy face was even redder than usual, his breathing heavy from their labors. But as always, there was a smile on his face as he watched Emeric. No matter what happened, Angus always seemed to be able to see the bright side of things. Just like Anna.

The thought of the dark-haired beauty sent his mood crashing again. He'd left the keep early to avoid her, and he was a little ashamed of that. Their unfortunate encounter in the stables last night ate at him. He'd behaved like a fool, but try as he might, he could not banish the dark sensation that flooded his stomach whenever he thought of her dancing with Hector.

Emeric scrubbed a hand over his face, weary to his bones. "Let's get this up to the castle before the rain hits."

They set out, Angus clucking to the big draft horse harnessed to the cart. The cart lurched into motion and the two men walked either side of the horse as they wove their steady way up towards the castle. They'd not gone more than a hundred paces though, before their luck gave out.

A peal of thunder rolled across the sky and the heavens opened, a thick blanket of rain hissing down in a torrent and turning the landscape into an indistinct smudge of gray.

Angus laughed. "Ha! That will teach us to tarry! By God, I reckon yer uncle owes us a tankard or two of ale after this!"

"Two? Make that five at the very least!"

They wound their way slowly along the track towards the keep, finally pushing through the gates and into the rain-slicked courtyard of Dun Achmore.

Laughter echoed from the far side, catching Emeric's attention. He looked over to see Aislinn and Anna, drenched from the sudden downpour, dancing and laughing like two wild nymphs in the rain. What on earth were they doing? Had they gone mad?

"Now there's a sight for sore eyes," Angus said, gently stroking the horse's nose. "Never seen Aislinn so giddy. And after what happened to yer da and all that business with Duncan MacDonald, well, it's good to see her truly laugh."

Emeric agreed. There had been some dark times in Clan Mackintosh over the last few years, and unlike him, his sister had not been able to run from them. She'd had to stay here and weather that storm. Like Angus said, it was good to see her laugh.

His eyes swung to Anna. Her dark hair cascaded like shimmering onyx as the rain lashed against her and she spun and danced, refusing to be cowed by it. Her laughter rang out, a melody more beautiful to Emeric's ears than any bard's song.

"Emeric?" Angus' voice crackled through his reverie. "Ye are staring like an idiot."

Aye, he was. How could he not? By the Saints, she was beautiful.

Aislinn caught sight of them and waved. Anna turned too. Her gaze met his across the courtyard and her smile faltered. She said something to Aislinn and then walked over, coming to a halt in front of him. She was soaked to the skin, her clothes clinging and her cheeks flushed with exertion.

"Hello, Emeric."

He stood there like a moonstruck fool, watching as the rainwater coursed down her face. He cast about for something to say, but now she was here his words deserted him.

"Good day, Anna..." he began finally. "I...um..." He gestured to the wagon beside him. "I need to get this into the store room."

"Oh, dinna worry about that!" Angus said. "I can handle it." There was a mischievous glint in his old friend's eyes. "But I'll see ye in the great hall later for that ale ye promised."

Angus clucked to the horse and led the cart away. Aislinn skipped over to join him and the two bent their heads in conversation as they headed towards the store room.

Emeric was left alone with Anna.

The rain pelted down like nails, cold and biting but he barely noticed. He had eyes only for the woman in front of him. Yet he couldn't think of a damned word to say.

"Ye...ye are drenched," he managed lamely.

"I'm kind of getting used to it," she shrugged, examining her clothing. "Although I think I'll have to be peeled out of this wet dress."

The thought of peeling her out of that dress sent heat cascading through Emeric's body—and straight to his groin. He shifted uncomfortably.

"Lass, about last night—"

"Is there somewhere dry we can talk?"

He blinked. "Aye, this way."

They could have gone into the keep. A fire would be roaring in the great hall and they desperately needed to get dry. But that would mean encountering others and losing any chance of privacy. So instead, he led her across the courtyard to the stable.

Despite the smell of hay and horse, inside the stables were warm and comforting after the harsh rain. The stable lads had done their job well, and everything was in its place: tools hanging from pegs, straw neatly swept, the smell of dry hay thick in the air and the horses drowsing in their stalls.

They crossed to a pile of hay bales stacked against a wall. Anna lowered herself gratefully onto one but Emeric remained standing. He was full of a nervous energy that would not let him sit.

"Anna, I—"

"I want to apologize," she said, cutting him off.

He looked at her in surprise. "Ye what?"

"I'm sorry about last night. I'm sorry about how things were left between us."

Emeric said nothing. The last thing he wanted was for her to apologize, especially when it was him that had been behaving like an oaf. He tried to form words, to tell her it was his fault, to ask her to forgive him, but his brain seemed as waterlogged as the rest of him.

Anna stepped up to him, wiping away a raindrop that clung to his cheek. Her touch sent a shiver through him that had nothing to do with the cold.

"You know, I'm not sure the drowned rat look is going to catch on."

And just like that, the tension between them evaporated.

" I look like a drowned rat? Ye clearly havenae looked at yerself recently. "

Anna made a show of examining her soggy dress. "This?" she said. "It's nothing. Just a bit damp."

He smiled but then sobered. "I'm sorry about last night, Anna. I behaved like an arse."

"Yep. You sure did. But apology accepted. I've also been known to act like an arse on occasion."

She walked over to one of the horses, her hand outstretched to stroke the velvety muzzle. Emeric watched her, the way she moved, the sway of her hair down her back.

"Well, I'm sorry," he said. "Apparently I can be a bit of a sulking brat."

She looked up from the horse, fastening her gaze upon him. Her eyes were the color of rich soil after rainfall—full of vibrancy and life despite all the weather had wrought upon her today.

"Really?" she said with a grin. "I hadn't noticed." She cocked her head. "You...didn't seem yourself last night, Emeric. You seemed...tense. Is everything okay?"

Emeric looked away, not sure how he could answer that question. There was so much emotion tangled up inside him that he couldn't even begin to unravel it. Guilt. Anger. Shame. And underneath it all, that restlessness, that itch, that need to get away. And that made him feel guilty all over again.

"Just tired," he said with a shrug. "It was a long ride to get here."

She studied him and it was clear she didn't believe him. "Does it have something to do with your father?" she asked suddenly .

The question caught him off guard and he took a step back. "Why do ye ask that?"

"Aislinn told me what happened to him. With her wedding coming up she's missing him. I thought you might be too."

Emeric cursed himself for an insensitive fool. Of course Aislinn would miss their da at a time like this. Of course she would wish he was here. Of course she would be thinking about...what happened. Or what they all believed happened.

His father was a topic he didn't dare venture near, not even in his own thoughts. The memories were too raw and painful.

He swallowed hard before speaking again. "My father's not here. Let's leave it at that, shall we?"

Anna nodded, accepting his evasion. She glanced up at the roof where the sound of the rain thumped incessantly against the thatch. "You think it will clear up by tomorrow? It's the games isn't it?"

"Aye." Emeric had not forgotten. How could he forget when everyone in Dun Achmore seemed to think he would win everything? After all, how could he not? He was the prodigal son wasn't he? The vaunted Order of the Osprey warrior, the hero who could beat any odds.

He snorted softly. What nonsense. If they had lived his life, done the things he'd done, perhaps they'd not be so quick to put him on a pedestal.

Anna sighed. "Ugh. I have to get out of these wet things." She quirked an eyebrow. "Sure you wouldn't like to come and peel me out of this dress? "

Emeric's cheeks flushed crimson and Anna laughed delightedly. "I'm joking!" She turned to the door, the swish of her skirts echoing in the stillness.

Emeric watched her go, fighting against the urge to go after her, to tell her yes, he would very much like to peel her out of that dress.

She paused at the door and looked back. "And Emeric? If there's something on your mind and you want to talk. Well...I've been told I can be a half-decent listener on occasion."

Her words hung in the air long after she had disappeared into the rain, leaving Emeric alone with his thoughts and the soft whinnying of the horses.