Page 46 of The Laird's Masked Passion

But ye, Maither, I need tae ken ye are safe. Whatever passed before, whatever ye couldnae say, whatever ye feared, send me only that truth. Are ye alive? Are ye hurt? Are ye watched? If there is any way fer ye tae write without Faither’s hand upon the words, dae it.

She hesitated, then added:

I am frightened fer ye.

The confession looked small on the page, almost childish. She hated it. She also could not strike it out.

She signed her name before courage deserted her.

Elspeth MacKenzie.

The name stopped her.

MacKenzie.

Her hand tightened around the quill until her fingers ached. She was still angry at Colin. She was angry for the bargain and for the way he had gone cold that morning over a portrait and left her standing before a wall full of ghosts. But when she thought of the moment he refused to let her run back into chaos, with his arm iron around her waist, and his voice sayingI dae, anger did not stand alone. It had unwelcome company.

Elspeth folded the letter before she could think better of it and sealed it with plain wax.

“Find someone trustworthy,” she told Skye.

She pressed her hand against the cold glass as she watched the girl cross the courtyard.

“Let it reachher,” she whispered.

Not her father, not the family who stood by and watched, not the man who bought her and then rode away to whatever danger no one would explain to her.

Her mother.

If there was any mercy left in the road between them, let it carry the truth back.

Colin returned to the castle with blood in his thoughts and headed to the gardens as soon as he was told that Elspeth was there…alone.

The gardens lay behind the western wall, protected enough in peaceful years to be treated as part of the house. These were not peaceful years. They were barely peaceful hours. A murdered guard lay cold, enemy tracks marked MacKenzie soil, and Elspeth Fraser… no, ElspethMacKenzie, curse the name and the trouble it brought him, decided to wander where hedges, walls, and shadows could hide a blade.

He found her at the far end, near the old yew walk.

“Elspeth.”

She turned. The moment she saw his face, her own expression sharpened.

“Ah,” she said. “The storm has returned wearing boots.”

“What are ye daeing here?”

“Standing. It is a skill I mastered some years ago, though I thank ye fer yer concern.”

His temper, already frayed, snapped tight. “Dae ye have any sense at all?”

Her brows lifted. “Good afternoon tae ye as well.”

“Ye are alone at the farthest end of the gardens after a guard was murdered at me border.”

The color shifted in her face. “A guard was murdered?”

“Aye.”

“And ye thought the clever course was tae tell me by shouting at me among shrubbery?”