Page 160 of The Laird's Masked Passion

“Then it appears a limited resource.”

Colin folded the letter. There had been a time when royal acknowledgement would have mattered to him, not because he trusted the Crown’s judgment, but because his clan deserved to stand beyond suspicion.

Now the apology seemed small beside the graves upon his land. Still, it would protect the widows from whispers. It would prevent Robert’s allies from dressing murder as justice. It would ensure no accusation followed Elspeth merely because she survived. For that, Colin would tolerate royal regret.

He placed the letter beside the others.

“The Crown has also agreed tae recognize the new boundary patrols,” he said. “And the payment will go directly tae the families.”

“As it should.”

Elspeth remained near the window. She had been restless since morning. Colin saw it in the repeated smoothing of her skirts and the way her fingers found the edge of the curtain whenever hoofbeats entered the courtyard.

Their horses were ready below. So were twenty guards, two wagons, three servants, and enough provisions to survive either the journey south or a modest siege. Elspeth had called the escort excessive. Colin ignored her.

“We leave within the hour,” he informed her.

Her gaze turned to him at once. Hope entered her face so openly that Colin felt the familiar tightening beneath his ribs.

“Aye?”

“Aye.”

She crossed the room quickly and stopped before him. For one moment, he expected an argument. Elspeth often approached him with that particular speed when she had discovered a fresh objection to his authority.

Instead, she put her arms around him. Colin caught her instinctively. Her face pressed against his chest.

“Thank ye.”

He rested one hand against the back of her head. “I promised.”

“I ken.”

The words were muffled against his coat. Colin discovered that keeping promises to Elspeth was rarely simple. Most required guards, horses, careful planning, and the occasional threat against a man whose competence failed at an unfortunate moment. This one required only that he take her home.

Home.

The word no longer meant what it once had. For Elspeth, perhaps it never would again.

They reached Fraser lands six days later. Elspeth became quieter with each mile. At first, she spoke of familiar hills, villages, and roads. She pointed toward a distant church where she had once hidden from a governess and a field where she broke her wrist after insisting she could ride a horse no one else would approach.

By the final moments, she said very little. Colin rode beside her. He did not ask whether she was afraid. She was. He saw it in the careful set of her shoulders and the way she kept adjusting her gloves, though they already sat perfectly upon her hands.

The Fraser house appeared beyond a line of bare trees, its grey walls washed pale beneath the autumn sky. Smoke rose from the chimneys. Servants had gathered near the steps, summoned by the sight of MacKenzie banners upon the road.

Elspeth drew in a breath. Colin reached across the space between their horses and closed his hand around hers. She looked at him.

“Ye dinnae have tae enter alone,” he told her.

“I didnae expect ye would permit me tae.”

“Nay.”

Her mouth curved faintly. “There is me husband.”

Colin kept hold of her hand until they reached the steps. The great door opened. Lady Morven Fraser came out before the steward could announce them. Elspeth froze. Her mother looked thinner than Colin remembered. Her face remained pale, and she leaned upon a walking stick, but she was upright.

“Elspeth,” Lady Morven breathed.