Page 98 of The Laird who Craved her

Claire breathed the crisp air deeply. "I've missed this."

Molly glanced sideways at her from her sturdy pony. "Riding?"

Claire smiled softly. "Feeling the wind. It seems different somehow."

Margaret nodded knowingly from her mount. "It always does after ye've been kept indoors."

Claire laughed. "I was beginning to think I'd never escape me chamber."

"Finn would likely have kept ye there another fortnight if the healer had allowed it," Violet said, adjusting her riding gloves. "He worried enough for three husbands."

"He still does," Molly added with a bright grin.

Claire's cheeks warmed under the teasing. "I've noticed."

Beatrice laughed softly. "And does it trouble ye?"

Claire looked ahead, watching the dirt path disappear between clusters of ancient, white-barked birch trees. "Nay." She smiled to herself. "I think I rather like knowing someone worries if I'm late."

For a moment, no one spoke, allowing the peaceful sounds of the forest to surround them. Then Molly reached across the small distance between their horses and nudged Claire's arm gently.

"Ye've become one of us."

Claire looked at the loyal maid. "I hope so."

"There is nay hope about it," Margaret replied firmly. "Half the castle already thinks of ye as though ye've lived there all yer life."

Claire laughed lightly. "I've only been there a few months."

"Aye," Violet said, a wistful note in her voice. "Funny how quickly home can decide it belongs to someone."

The poignant words settled quietly inside Claire. She had never imagined hearing Rosewood spoken of as her true home. Notwhen she'd first crossed its imposing iron gates. Not when she'd believed every polite smile concealed dark suspicion. Not when she'd expected to leave the valley as soon as duty allowed her an escape.

Yet now, she found herself wondering what it would actually feel like to leave. The honest answer surprised her. It would feel incredibly lonely.

The path curved gently downward until the thick trees began to thin out. Beyond them, the winding river shimmered beneath the evening sun like a perfect ribbon of polished glass.

"There it is," Beatrice said softly.

Claire slowed her mare as the others did the same. The riverbank lay completely peaceful and untouched. Purple heather bloomed vibrantly along the edges of the water, its delicate blossoms nodding gently in the twilight breeze. Wildflowers grew in scattered patches between smooth grey stones, and the long weeping willow branches dipped low enough to brush the surface of the river as it flowed lazily toward the valley below.

There were no voices. No heavy footsteps. Only the soothing sound of the water.

Margaret slipped easily from her leather saddle. "I've always loved this place."

"So have I," Violet admitted, following suit. "My mother brought me here before me wedding."

Molly smiled warmly. "And mine before hers."

Claire dismounted carefully, favoring her healing muscles. Before she could steady herself completely, Molly was already right beside her.

"I told ye I can manage," Claire teased gently.

"Aye." Molly took the leather reins anyway. "And yet here I am."

The women laughed together as they tethered the horses beneath a stand of tall ash trees. For a while, they simply stood in a loose circle, looking out at the rushing river. It seemed entirely wrong somehow to break the beautiful quiet of the glen.

Finally, Beatrice stepped closer to the rushing water. "When I first came here, I was terrified."