visible beneath the folds of her gown. “That’s right. Thank you for reminding me. They will go perfectly with your eyes,” she said to Helen.
“Your dress will be ready for you to put on when you get back,” Christina said with a bright smile. The formidable MacLeod chief’s wife was easily one of the most beautiful women Helen had ever seen.
Helen felt a stab of guilt, seeing how eagerly everyone was looking forward to this wedding. Everyone but she.
Bella followed her to the door. “I’ve always enjoyed the path through the forest to the chapel,” she suggested. “I believe what you are looking for is there.” Their eyes met. The hint of compassion in the other woman’s eyes told her she’d guessed at least some of the truth. “I love them both,” the former Countess of Buchan finished quietly.
Helen nodded, understanding. No matter what happened, someone would be hurt.
But unlike Bella, Helen loved only one of them. She raced down the stairs and out of the tower into the frigid December morning. The thick blanket of icy mist had yet to lift from its moorings and hung like a silty sea of gray across the large courtyard.
Thankfully, no one remarked upon the oddity of seeing the bride make her escape out the gate mere hours before her wedding. Moments later, Helen found herself walking down the small, rocky rise upon which the castle sat and into the shadowy darkness of the forest to the south.
It was a short walk through the trees to the small chapel, which served the spiritual needs of the castle and the surrounding village. The stone building sat on a small rise in the middle of the small woodland. It was quiet as she approached.Eerily quiet. A whisper of trepidation slid down her spine.
She slowed, for the first time considering what she was doing. Her brothers would be furious. Her betrothed … angry? She didn’t know him well enough to guess his reaction. Her father, gone now for two years would have given her that look that he always did when she’d done something that seemed perfectly logical to her, but incomprehensible to him. It was the same look Will had perfected, often accompanied by some comment about her hair. As if red were some explanation for all the trouble she caused.
But it didn’t matter. She knew what she was doing. She was following her heart. What she should have done all those years ago.
The chapel was only a few feet away when she saw him. Her heart caught in a gasp in her throat. He sat with his back to her on a rock a few feet from the chapel door, staring at it as if he couldn’t decide whether to go in. The mere sight of him swelled her chest. If there was even the slightest chance that they might be able to find happiness, she had to seize that chance.
“Magnus.” Even saying his name invoked too much emotion, and the simple word came out as a strangled cry.
He turned and blinked once, as if not sure whether she were real or an apparition. The hardening of his jaw told her he’d figured it out. “You’re early.”
The sarcasm and flatness of his tone unsettled her. She searched his gaze for the man she remembered. But the warm, caramel depths of his eyes seemed hard and unfamiliar.
Ignoring the do-not-approach aura that seemed to radiate from him, she took a tentative step toward him. “I came to find you.”
He stood up. “Why? To rehash old memories?” He shook his head. “It would serve no purpose. Go back to the castle, Helen. Where you belong.”
That was just it. She didn’t belong anywhere. She never had. Only with him had she felt the possibility.
Helen searched for the slightest hint of anger, the slightest touch of pain. But his tone gave no hint of any emotion other than the vague sense of weariness she heard in her father’s voice when she’d done something “wayward.”
Three years was a long time. Perhaps the feelings he’d once had for her were gone. She felt a twinge of uncertainty but pushed it aside. This was Magnus.
“Your dress will be ready for you to put on when you get back,” Christina said with a bright smile. The formidable MacLeod chief’s wife was easily one of the most beautiful women Helen had ever seen.
Helen felt a stab of guilt, seeing how eagerly everyone was looking forward to this wedding. Everyone but she.
Bella followed her to the door. “I’ve always enjoyed the path through the forest to the chapel,” she suggested. “I believe what you are looking for is there.” Their eyes met. The hint of compassion in the other woman’s eyes told her she’d guessed at least some of the truth. “I love them both,” the former Countess of Buchan finished quietly.
Helen nodded, understanding. No matter what happened, someone would be hurt.
But unlike Bella, Helen loved only one of them. She raced down the stairs and out of the tower into the frigid December morning. The thick blanket of icy mist had yet to lift from its moorings and hung like a silty sea of gray across the large courtyard.
Thankfully, no one remarked upon the oddity of seeing the bride make her escape out the gate mere hours before her wedding. Moments later, Helen found herself walking down the small, rocky rise upon which the castle sat and into the shadowy darkness of the forest to the south.
It was a short walk through the trees to the small chapel, which served the spiritual needs of the castle and the surrounding village. The stone building sat on a small rise in the middle of the small woodland. It was quiet as she approached.Eerily quiet. A whisper of trepidation slid down her spine.
She slowed, for the first time considering what she was doing. Her brothers would be furious. Her betrothed … angry? She didn’t know him well enough to guess his reaction. Her father, gone now for two years would have given her that look that he always did when she’d done something that seemed perfectly logical to her, but incomprehensible to him. It was the same look Will had perfected, often accompanied by some comment about her hair. As if red were some explanation for all the trouble she caused.
But it didn’t matter. She knew what she was doing. She was following her heart. What she should have done all those years ago.
The chapel was only a few feet away when she saw him. Her heart caught in a gasp in her throat. He sat with his back to her on a rock a few feet from the chapel door, staring at it as if he couldn’t decide whether to go in. The mere sight of him swelled her chest. If there was even the slightest chance that they might be able to find happiness, she had to seize that chance.
“Magnus.” Even saying his name invoked too much emotion, and the simple word came out as a strangled cry.
He turned and blinked once, as if not sure whether she were real or an apparition. The hardening of his jaw told her he’d figured it out. “You’re early.”
The sarcasm and flatness of his tone unsettled her. She searched his gaze for the man she remembered. But the warm, caramel depths of his eyes seemed hard and unfamiliar.
Ignoring the do-not-approach aura that seemed to radiate from him, she took a tentative step toward him. “I came to find you.”
He stood up. “Why? To rehash old memories?” He shook his head. “It would serve no purpose. Go back to the castle, Helen. Where you belong.”
That was just it. She didn’t belong anywhere. She never had. Only with him had she felt the possibility.
Helen searched for the slightest hint of anger, the slightest touch of pain. But his tone gave no hint of any emotion other than the vague sense of weariness she heard in her father’s voice when she’d done something “wayward.”
Three years was a long time. Perhaps the feelings he’d once had for her were gone. She felt a twinge of uncertainty but pushed it aside. This was Magnus.