“What about her?”
“She mightna have glared at ye, but the way she pretended not to see ye was quite telling if ye ask me.” Taking a step forward, Garrett sighed. “If ye’re truly not certain, then let her marry Vaughn and come to England with me.”
Finn flinched, and only when Garrett’s gaze dropped lower did he notice that his hands had balled into fists.
A triumphant grin came to Garrett’s face. “But if that thought turns yer stomach, then ‘tis safe to say that ye’re in love.”
“I didna know,” Finn mumbled, remembering all those years when he had been so angry, running off to Clan MacKinnear because the mere sight of her was torment, reminding him daily that what his heart desired was never to be.
“Ye didna want to know,” Garrett corrected, chuckling. “Listen, it came as quite the shock to me, too, when I first laid eyes on my wife.” Inhaling a deep breath, he shook his head as though he still could not believe it. “It hit me in the chest like a hard punch. I was completely taken aback by the sudden intensity of my feelings for her. One moment, I didna even know she walked this earth, and in the next, I was in love. But now that I am, I canna wait to find her, to have her back in my arms and kiss her speechless.”
Finn frowned at the wicked grin on his friend’s face.
“She talks a lot,” Garrett said by way of explaining. Then he sighed, and his face sobered. “Yer love is right here. Ye dunno have to go and search half of England for her, merely admit that ye’re in love. Does that not sound simple?”
Finn had to admit that it did. Even though he could not be certain how Emma felt, he could finally admit to himself how he felt about her. And to his great shock, he realised that he was utterly in love with her.
If she was to marry anyone, it would be him!
Chapter Eight
Loud & Clear
As the evening wore on, Emma settled deeper into her seat by the fireplace, only outwardly watching over Maggie’s children. Inwardly, Emma was quite busy watching all those around her, suddenly taken with the desire to discover the subtle signs people could not suppress when they were near someone they cared about…or did not.
Not only Cormag seemed utterly incapable of leaving the great hall after finishing his conversation with Garrett, but Moira, too, lingered after all preparations for tomorrow’s feast were finally taken care of and Maggie was satisfied.
At first glance, neither one of them drew anyone’s attention as there were quite a few people seeking company after a long day. They stood in groups or sat around Maggie’s newly-decorated tables, her watchful eyes ensuring that her decorations were not disturbed. Laughter and conversation echoed through the large hall, and the fire in the hearth lent it a warm feeling of safety and home.
As always, Moira sat by herself, and yet, from under her lashes she stole a glance at their tall, dark laird every now and then. Still, neither one seemed to be aware of the other’s interest in them.
Emma shook her head, shocked by the human heart’s inability to see clearly when its own welfare was concerned. Had she been this blind as well?
Of course, she had, and it had made her waste seven long years of her life!
Despite the almost magnetic connection between Cormag and Moira, they never dared look at one another, nor speak to the other, pretending they were nothing short of strangers. Emma felt oddly reminded of the past seven years and her attempts to meet Finn with polite indifference. Judging from Maggie’s words, her friend had seen through her charade as easily as Emma could now see the truth about Cormag and Moira.
Turning her gaze toward her friend, Emma heaved a deep sigh when she saw Maggie speak to her husband. With hanging shoulders, Ian stood before her, his blue eyes dark, and yet, there was a silent plea in them that Emma had never noticed before. At some point, he reached out and brushed a tender hand over Maggie’s arm. It was an achingly-sweet gesture, and yet, Maggie tensed.
Emma swallowed hard, her heart filling with pity when she saw the defeated look in Ian’s eyes. Instantly, he took a step back as though his wife had slapped him.
“She does not love him,” Emma mumbled under her breath, “but he loves her.” Sadness engulfed her as she watched Maggie and Ian, for the first time noticing the distance that existed between them for what it was: longing. While Ian clearly longed for his wife, Maggie’s heart was elsewhere. Something−or rather someone−stood between them. Once again, Emma wondered what had happened back in England before Maggie had come to Scotland. Had she left behind a great love? Had he died? Rejected her? If she had been in love, why on earth had she agreed to marry Ian?
Brushing a gentle hand over Blair’s head when she stirred in her sleep, Emma sighed, reminding herself that love rarely made sense and was often driven by fear. Had she herself not been ready to accept Vaughn in order to protect her heart from being broken should Finn reject her?
Lifting her gaze, Emma spotted Vaughn standing across the hall, deep in conversation with his father. Still, his eyes occasionally travelled to her, and she saw kindness and interest there. He was a good man, and Emma had no doubt he would be a good husband to her. Still, what did she have to offer him in return?
Unlike Cormag, who had taken note of Moira’s presence right away, Emma had not even noticed when Vaughn had stepped into the hall. How long had he stood there? Emma could not say. Her heart would never belong to him, just like Maggie’s heart still belonged to the unknown Englishman of her past. Even after all
