"I know."
He swung into the saddle and raised a hand before wheeling about. Fergus's "Godspeed" was lost in a thunder of hooves. "Good luck," Jeannie added quietly.
They watched until his hunched shoulders disappeared over the hill.
"I should go with him," Fergus murmured.
"No, he must bear this burden alone."
"Still. . . He's near broken."
"He will be fine if he can catch her. And you have your own burden to worry over, Fergus Mac Lean."
She watched his jaw angle into a smile before he looked down at her. "So I do." The love in his blue eyes spread heat over her skin and through all the places he'd touched during the night. "I canna offer you anything more than a wee cottage and a warm bed, Jeannie."
"Fergus—"
"But I pray it's enough, because we'll be wed within the fortnight, and here is where you'll stay."
"Good," was all she managed before she began to cry. Her lover cursed her for a fool before he carried her back to his warm, welcoming bed and compromised her one more time for good measure.
Chapter 21
Nothing was the same when Collin walked through the doors of Westmore. The comforting bustle of the great hall stuttered to a halt as soon as his shadow fell over the floor. People—his people—stopped to stare at him with wary curiosity. She was not here, he knew that without asking, just as he knew she was not at the Kirklands'. No, she had not run to a friend to wail and whimper. She had not flown somewhere to wait for him to follow. She was gone. Gone to her own home, no longer willing to fight for a place in his. And she should not have had to.
He did not bother cursing himself for a fool and a bully. He would not grant himself the release of self-flagellation. His guilt would not ease her. He could only change, could only redeem himself.
Ah, God, he loved her. He admired her and feared her, truth be told. But he had never wanted to hurt or break her. He'd only meant for the fear to cease its endless scratching at his gut, only needed to stave off the inevitable end of his good luck. At least he did not have to fear it anymore. She was gone. The suspense had ended.
The servants and workmen who'd gathered stood frozen under his lost stare. Some had begun to show grimness, a few sported smug mouths. He had no idea what he should say, if anything.
"My lord! Collin . . ." Rebecca pushed past a housemaid, her cheeks in high color. He watched as she hurried toward him, face smoothing itself into sympathetic concern. "Do not worry yourself over such as her."
A vibration thrummed over his nerves as he pulled his eyes from the curving edge of her lip and swept the roomful of faces.
"Did anyone see her leave?" Eyes widened, darted back and forth. One young boy flushed and looked hard at Collin's belt. "Ben?"
The boy blinked and his nose seemed to wrinkle into his brow.
"I saw her." Rebecca's words rushed into the quiet room. He did not look at her, could not stand to. He knew what was coming, knew now what Alex had tried to tell him and what he had thrown back in her face.
"She snuck out to the stables this morning while you were at the new house and took her horse north, Collin, over the hill. I often see her ride that way, so I thought nothing of it."
"North. And Ben? What did you see?"
A lump jumped visibly in the boy's dirty neck as he swallowed. "I. . . I saw that Frenchie maid o' hers hide somethin' in the grass, and then her ladyship come out and fetch it. But she didn't go north, sir. She headed south at a fast trot. 'Twas a big bag she hitched up out o' the meadow and she tied it right up behind her."
"When?"
"Hours ago. Long 'afore noon." "South, hmm?"
Rebecca's shadow jittered on the floor at his feet. Ben was wise enough to keep quiet. She was not. "Where is your man, then?" she hissed. "Where is Fergus?"
A gust of wind blew through the open door behind him, scattering leaves into the hall with the smell of snow. Snow.
"I want Thor watered and packed for a week on the road. And you—" He slashed Rebecca's face with his gaze. "You are to be gone from this house when I return."
When his hand flew out, gasps filled the room, one woman cried out, but not Rebecca. She glared daggers into him as he tore the circle of keys from her apron and tossed them to Mrs. Cook.