Page 67 of My Highland Bride

“How?” I ask, hoping she understands what I cannot put into words.

“’Tis not difficult,” she says, “if one simply listens and imagines how they might feel in a similar situation. Listen, and love. Naught else matters.”

The sentiment is so close to something Fara would have said.

“You’ve read the Garra’s teachings,” Cettina says, “and I too believe in the power of love.”

Sipping the wine, I think on her words and realize they’re true. All of them.

“As for that kiss, one I know Erik must have told you about, given the way you looked at me through supper . . .” She leans forward in her seat. “We knew immediately it was all wrong. Erik and I were both in a dark place, and we attempted to console ourselves. Your husband is quite handsome and kind, a combination that is sadly rare in men who wield any modicum of power. But there was not—” she waves her hand, “—the connection you share.”

She smiles.

“He loves you, Reyne. I can see it clearly.”

The goblet freezes on my lips.

“I know him as well as any man. He cared for Isolda, but he did not love her. He does love you.”

I lower the goblet onto my lap after a lengthy sip, though I did not drain it down the way I did at Havefest.

“He will not allow me to travel with him tomorrow,” I confess.

Cettina frowns.

“You wish to come?”

I think about it for a moment. And realize that, aye, I’d prefer to be there than to be like my mother, waiting for Father to return, not knowing when or even if he would.

“Aye. I wish to come.”

She shrugs, as if it is not a problem at all.

“We leave at dawn. If you return to your chamber, Erik will see you rising with him in the morn. Stay here this night. I’ve an empty bedchamber just down the hall. We will send him word and then—” she smiles brightly, “—he will say nothing when you ride out with me in the morn.”

I cannot. “Nay, it would not be proper to abandon him this night.”

Cettina all but rolls her eyes. “You determine what is proper now. Not Erik. Not protocol. Not your father. You, Reyne. If you wish to come to Craighcebor, then come to Craighcebor. If you wish to stay behind, stay behind. If you allow others to dictate your life, then it is their life you live.”

Could I do such a thing? Should I do such a thing? What will Erik think or say?

Suddenly it occurs to me, Cettina sits here advising me, helping me, when she rides out tomorrow to save her sister. To avoid a war for her kingdom. And yet she appears calm and relaxed, and I think I begin to understand the reason why.

If you allow others to dictate your life, then it is their life you live.

After my sister died, I honored her life by living as she would. These past weeks, I’m unsure whose life I’ve lived, precisely.

He loves you.

If her words are true, and I sense they are, then he will forgive me for living as myself in the days to come.

“I will do it,” I say as Cettina smiles back. “But only if you allow me to borrow a pair of breeches.”

Her laugh is a healing ointment to my battered soul.

27

Erik