A Scotsman's Promise

Chapter 30

Micara hadn't said anything in so long that Calen began to wonder if she hadn't understood him.

"Micara?" he asked. She blinked. Her lips pursed and her eyebrows furrowed. "Did ye hear me?"

"Pardon, Monsieur, je ne comprends pas..." She paused, closing her eyes for a breif moment and then repeated in English, "Calen, I don't understand."

Calen went down on one knee, bringing them to the same height. He smiled a little before saying, "Micara, I am asking ye to marry me."

She gave him a small smile in return before replying, "I understood that part, but do you mean it?"

"I mean it. I do nae want ye to go."

Micara's smile grew. He took that as a good sign and took her hand, leaning closer to her. "Having ye here has been grand. I have loved how it has been and I do nae want to give it up. I want ye to stay with us."

The happy look on Micara's face faltered slightly. "Us?"

"Aye," Calen said with a wide smile, "My family loves ye, even Da. That is no small thing. I love what ye being her has done to me family and I want to keep it. They'd miss ye something fierce if ye left. They love ye, lass."

Cara exhaled and blinked quickly several times. "And you?" she asked, keeping her tone as neutral as she could, "How do you feel?"

Calen looked at their hands and rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. "I think ye'd make a fine wife, and I'd do me best to be a good husband to ye."

Micara nodded slightly, "No doubt," she whispered, "And I suppose we'd live with your family as well?"

Calen grinned, "Aye. Mum wouldn't be letting her new daughter go off camping in the woods alone all summer whilst I'm away trapping and building."

Micara felt tears moisten her eyes and she blinked furiously, trying to hold them back.

"Micara Donelly," Calen murmured and then smiled again, "Ye wouldn't even need to change yer initials."

Micara let out a small, choked, laugh and covered her face with her free hand.

"Ye feel like part of our family, lass, and I want ye to stay."

Micara took her hand from him and stood up. She had to turn away to compose herself, but once he did, she faced him again. She still couldn't look him in the eye when she said, "I thank you for the proposal, Monsieur Donelly, but I find myself unable to accept."

Her voice didn't crack as badly as she expected it would, but one tear did escape and run down her cheek. She'd be lying if she said she had never pictured Calen proposing, but in her head she'd never had to turn him down. She took a shaky breath and laid her hand on his shoulder, "I'm sorry, Calen."

Calen seemed to disappear. He still knelt before her, but every quality she equated to his personality vanished before her eyes. His rogue smile, usually so prominent, transformed into a frown of vague dissatisfaction. The spark in his eyes, the very embodiment of his mischievous nature, dulled to practically nothing.

He covered her hand with his own for a moment, his face now completely blank. He was silent for a long moment, and then he removed her hand from his shoulder and stood up. "I'll take ye to the cabin."

His voice was monotone, no emotion whatsoever. He held out his hand, gesturing her to proceed ahead of him, as if his imaginary cabin was real and he was escorting her from it.

He took the lead once again when the reached the overgrown path, and he stayed almost as attentive to her as he had been on their way there, helping her through rough patches and over fallen trees whenever they cam upon one. He was perfectly polite, and Micara had never felt more uncomfortable with him.