Page 69 of The Laird who Craved her

They descended the winding staircase at an unhurried pace, the bright sunlight streaming through the narrow arrow slits to paint golden ribbons across the stone walls. Claire remembered climbing these very steps beside Finn only days before, teasing him for walking too quickly, and he had slowed without a single complaint.

At the bottom of the stairs, Mrs. Campbell emerged from the kitchens carrying a woven basket of freshly baked bread.

"Oh, Lady Claire," Mrs. Campbell stopped short, immediately setting the basket onto a nearby wooden table. "I heard ye are leaving."

"I am." Claire nodded gently.

"We are going to miss ye terribly," the older housekeeper said, crossing the distance between them without hesitation to pull Claire into a warm, flour-dusted embrace.

"I shall miss all of ye too." Claire hugged her back tightly.

"There will always be a place for ye here," Mrs. Campbell promised, drawing back to study Claire's face.

"Thank ye," Claire whispered, emotion tightening her throat as the housekeeper reached up to straighten the edge of her cloak with practiced, caring hands.

"Travel safely," Mrs. Campbell instructed, pressing a small cloth parcel into Claire's hands. "A few oatcakes for the road."

"I will treasure them." Claire smiled down at the bundle.

"Ye had better eat them," Mrs. Campbell laughed softly, drawing another small laugh from Claire.

Claire slowly descended the stone steps, each footstep feeling impossibly heavy against the frozen mud. She reached the center of the courtyard and instinctively looked toward the keep.

Will he come?

She scolded herself instantly, telling her battered heart not to hope, as he had already said his goodbyes.

Still, her eyes wandered almost of their own accord toward the shadows. The stable doors creaked open loudly, and Claire's breath caught sharply in her throat.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Finn stepped out of the stable into a courtyard that had already been prepared for her departure. Two mounted guards waited beside the carriage, their horses shifting impatiently against the morning chill, while the driver stood near the lead mare, nervously tightening a leather strap that had absolutely no need of tightening.

Finn's gaze lifted toward the keep just as the doors opened and Claire stepped outside. For one foolish, agonizing heartbeat, he completely forgot how to breathe.

God help me.

She had changed back into the gown she had arrived in, though it no longer looked like it belonged to England. Standing against the grey stone of Rosewood Castle, she looked as though she had always been meant for the Highlands.

Finn forced himself to move forward, taking one heavy step and then another until he reached the carriage where she had stopped directly opposite him. Neither of them spoke as the cold wind slipped between them, carrying the crisp scent of damp earth and pine.

Say something.Say anything but goodbye.

Claire offered him a small smile, though it trembled almost at once. "So," she said softly. "This is goodbye."

The word stole the air from his lungs.

"For now," Finn answered.Lie to her if ye must,he told himself fiercely.Just get her safely away.

Her fingers tightened anxiously around the leather gloves she held in her hands. "For now," she echoed, though they both clearly heard the deep uncertainty wavering in her voice.

Molly stepped forward quietly and held out the satchel.

"I will take it," Finn offered, and the maid surrendered the bag without argument before drifting back toward Mrs. Campbell, giving them what little privacy she could manage in the busy courtyard.

Finn placed the satchel inside the carriage, carefully checking the leather straps securing it before checking them a secondtime just to keep his hands occupied. Claire watched him for a moment before speaking quietly.

"Ye have inspected that poor carriage three times already."