by Annis Reid
He should have known it would not be such a simple matter.
14
Hovering at the top of her thoughts, sort of an overarching feeling, was that she now knew what it would be like to touch a snake. She had never touched one before then but had always imagined it being cold and slimy.
Maybe the sliminess was from her own sweaty palms, but Flora’s hands were cold. Very.
Just like the rest of her.
No wonder Leith had a problem with this girl. No wonder he didn’t want to marry her. Melissa wouldn’t have wished her on anybody, not even on Jimmy, and he was the worst.
Who knew what to make of somebody who said one thing but meant another? Who could live with somebody capable of smiling to their face even when they said something awful? Did Flora think the people she spoke to were idiots? That they wouldn’t understand what she really meant?
No. She didn’t. She counted on them understanding her very well. She wanted them to.
Melissa had the feeling that she would’ve explained herself if need be.
A pair of men strode out from where the laird’s wife had disappeared. One of them was tall and wide as a house, the sort of man who made Melissa sorry for the horse he rode. The other was pretty much his opposite, a short, thin, shaved bald.
It was the bald man who stepped forward to greet Leith, but there was no warmth or gladness in his expression. “Nephew,” he grunted. So this was Mervyn Fraser.
“Uncle,” Leith replied. “Tis fine to see ye.”
“Dispense with the empty pleasantries,” the large man grumbled. “What is this Moira tells us? Ye came here with a wife already, then?”
“I did at that, Laird MacNeill,” Leith replied in a mild, even tone, not even a tremor in his voice to give away the lie. He was good at this. Maybe he was used to dealing with all sorts of people as the laird’s son. He knew how to pass half-truths and lies when he needed to.
“He claims to have been unaware of the oath ye made with his father,” Flora explained, and she finally withdrew her hands from Melissa’s. It was a relief to not touch those cold, snaky hands anymore.
“That is the truth.” Leith stood with feet planted, hands folded in front of him. At ease, but tense all over. He probably could’ve cracked walnuts in his fists, they were so tightly clenched.
Her heart went out to him. She wished she could at least put a hand on his shoulder, a reminder that he wasn’t going through this alone, but it seemed like that would be a bad move. Like she was rubbing it in that they were together, that he had reneged on a vow he had nothing to do with.
“How can it be so?” Mervyn demanded. “I know my wife’s brother has gone half out of his—”
“Take care, Uncle,” Leith warned. Melissa had heard that tone in his voice before. The don’t you dare even think about it tone. “My father has led Clan MacManus through the longest stretch of peace and prosperity it has ever known. I believe he deserves respect if only for that.”
“Too right,” Niall MacNeill agreed. “However, one canna be blamed for asking himself why this arrangement was never spoken of before now. Where is the man?”
She was about a second away from telling them to leave him alone and quit bullying, but that would be the worst move possible. These were the times when women held their tongues.
“There are many matters which require his attention,” Leith explained. “He could not be with us.”
“Convenient,” Niall said with a snicker.
Melissa looked around. A few servants ran back and forth, carrying pitchers and platters and such, and they deliberately kept their eyes lowered when they passed the little scene unfolding in the entry hall.
An impressive hall, for sure. Roughly the size of the house she’d grown up in and twice as tall. And this was only the place where people entered and left, with tapestries hung all over the wood-paneled walls and heavy, iron chandeliers holding fat candles that dripped wax onto the stone floor. The ceiling was invisible, thanks to all the smoke hanging in the air, rising there to form a black cloud.
Not the place to be having a conversation like this one, with people coming and going all the time.
“Let us take this to my chambers,” Mervyn announced, turning on his heel and storming away before making sure anybody else was following.
Melissa knew right away that trailing behind wasn’t an option. She wasn’t invited. Neither was Flora, even though this had to do with her, too.
Flora linked her arm through Melissa’s, and it was only through supreme self-control that Melissa managed not to flinch away.
“Come,” Flora whispered. “Allow the men to discuss things among themselves. We have nothing to do with this, do we?”
“Wh—where are we going?” she asked as Flora led the way up the stairs.
“To your room, naturally.”
“I dinna have a room.” She spoke slowly, trying to remember to put on what she hoped passed for a brogue. Nobody had laughed her out of the keep yet, so she guessed he was doing all right.
“Fret not,” Flora assured her. “Ye might stay with me.”
“With ye? In your chambers? What of my husband’s chambers?”
“Your husband?” Flora chuckled sweetly. “Need I remind ye, ye are not man and wife?”
“But we are.” Melissa planted her feet three-quarters of the way up the endless staircase. “I will share chambers with my husband. Leith MacManus. He is my husband, and I am his wife. If ye wish to end our marriage, so be it, but for now, we are husband and wife.”
Wow. Where had that come from? She hadn’t planned on saying any of it.
And Flora clearly hadn’t counted on hearing any of it, judging by the slack-jawed surprise on her face. “I see.” Just like that, her arm slid from around Melissa’s and hung by her side.
If Melissa had known that was all it took to earn a little personal space, she would’ve smarted off earlier.
Still, no sense in making an enemy so soon. “I dinna mean any disrespect—”
Flora shook her head slightly, like she was shaking off a fly that had landed on her long, golden braid. “No need. I am certain one of the servants will show ye to the correct room. I must see my mother.” She hurried up the stairs with her silk skirts in hand, her leather boots slapping against the stones, and quickly disappeared down the hall.
Leaving Melissa alone.
She could finally breathe, at least, with no one to watch and dissect her every move and every word.
And she had never felt so lost in all her life. She didn’t know the ins and outs of how this life worked. Not without Leith, and he was… where was he?
She walked down the stairs again and followed the route she’d seen the men take. Down a wide hallway with more of the same tapestries she’d seen in the entry, torches lining the walls and casting creepy shadows around.
“Who is she, then? Some tavern wench?”
She didn’t have to look hard to find the men, since their voices carried. She tiptoed to the half-open door to Mervyn’s chambers, pressing her back to the wall and looking both ways to make sure nobody was watching.
“I would thank ye not to speak so of my wife,” Leith replied, sounding much calmer than the one who’d asked the question. That had probably been Niall, who would, of course, be dismissive of the girl his would-be son-in-law had married.
“Your wife ought to be my daughter, not some peasant in rags,” Niall scoffed. “Ye mean to tell me ye would rather be with a wee, filthy thing than with my bonny lassie? To say nothing of uniting our clans!”
“I tell ye, Laird MacNeill, that I was not aware of my betrothal to your bonny daughter,” Leith explained with more patience than Melissa thought she could’ve possessed. “Had I been aware from ladhood, as would normally have been the case, I would not have turned a favorable eye toward another lass. Ye have my word on that, I assure ye. Any who have ever known me can tell ye I am a man who values honor and truth above most anything.”
&
nbsp; Melissa’s eyes slid shut. Truth. While he was lying through his teeth.
“Spare me your talk of honor,” Niall snarled, “when ye have dishonored my Flora and my clan. We dinna take kindly to affronts such as this.”
“I can make it up to ye, if I might be permitted to try.”
Mervyn was smart enough to speak up. “How would ye do that, Nephew? How can this possibly be made right?”
“I can offer my brother, Malcolm. He will be in need of a wife and an heir, and I believe Fiona will make a fine choice. Ye know he will be good to her, and fair.”
“Good and fair?” Niall laughed. “He will not be laird, lad. Tis the laird I wish to wed my daughter, not the laird’s brother.”
“With due respect, was it not your father who was once brother to the laird?” Leith challenged. “And yet here ye are, as fate would have it.”
“Do ye believe that will be of consolation to me?” Niall blustered. “Shall I tell my daughter ne’er to fear, that she might one day be the wife of the laird should some tragedy befall ye?”
“If that is all your daughter cares for…” was Leith’s chilly reply.
Melissa couldn’t help grinning, wishing she could see the looks on the faces of the other two.
“Enough of this wordplay,” Mervyn barked. “This accomplishes nothing.”
“Too right,” Niall snarled. “When we ought to be sending for the village priest to end this entire arrangement.”
A priest? Melissa’s mouth fell open and a queasy sensation gripped her stomach.
Leith cleared his throat. “And just why would we need a priest?”
“To annul this marriage, of course! I will not allow it to stand!”
“There are no grounds to annul it,” Leith argued. “The Church would not stand for such a thing.”
“Leave that to me,” Niall assured him. Then, in a gentler voice, he added, “I dinna hold this against ye, my lad. I ken all too well the discomfort this must cause ye. If your father truly neglected to tell ye of the arrangement we made long ago, ye are just as much a victim here as my daughter. It can be put to rights in little time, and we can go on with the wedding.”
Something was sitting on Melissa’s chest. Something heavy, something huge, and it was crushing the life out of her. After everything they’d already been through, this was how it was going to end. With an annulment of a marriage that didn’t exist. With Leith forced to marry a girl he hated, someone who would probably make him miserable.
Flora didn’t have what it took to make him happy. She would never understand him and probably wouldn’t bother trying to, either. All of his kindness and tenderness would be wasted on her, since she would never appreciate it. Just like she’d never appreciate his mind, his thoughtfulness. Nothing that made him who he was.
Only knowing how much worse she’d make things for both of them held her in place outside that door. What she wanted more than anything was to run in, to take him by the arm and scream at these idiot men. To curse them and spit on them and remind them that their place in history was nothing. They were no one. They would be forgotten.
Right. Because that would go over really well. Because they wouldn’t dismiss her as a witch and hang her from the nearest tree.
All she could do was tiptoe away from the door and dash down the hall, back to the stairs where Flora had left her. There was nowhere else to go, since she’d probably get lost in the sprawling keep—if she wasn’t run over by a distracted servant first.
It wasn’t two minutes before Leith joined her, and the slump of his shoulders told her what she needed to know about how the conversation had ended. He didn’t look her in the eye, but rather turned and started up the stairs.
“I know ye heard everything,” he muttered as they climbed together.
“How did you know?”
“Ye canna hide yourself from me, lass.” He managed a faint smile. “I always feel when ye are near.”
There went that pressure in her chest again, and this time it extended up to her head, settling behind her eyes and threatening to come out in the form of hot, angry tears.
15
“You are not sleeping on the floor again tonight.”
Leith turned in surprise from where he’d already spread a blanket over the floor. “Pardon me?”
Melissa sat up in bed, the blankets pulled to her chin. Yet there was nothing modest or shy about the steely determination in her eyes. “You heard me. You are sleeping here in the bed, next to me.”
The mix of emotions which this announcement stirred in his breast was surprising. Her frankness came as a shock. Yet when the shock wore off, it was replaced by intrigue. He was a man, after all, and she was a woman for whom he had come to care a considerable amount.
Naturally, he realized that was not what she had in mind, though it hardly gave him pleasure to know it. This was confirmed with her very next statement.
“What if somebody comes in the middle of the night?” she continued. “Or early in the morning? People are going to be talking about us. What would it look like if we weren’t sharing a bed?”
As ever, she had thought things through more clearly that he had. Yet how was he to be expected to think clearly when so much had fallen apart? He had believed himself so clever and look where his cleverness had gotten him.
The bed was wide enough for the two of them, to be certain, though he still eyed it with suspicion before sitting gingerly on the edge. “Are ye certain of this?” he asked.
She rolled her eyes. “Yes, I’m sure. You know I’m right.”
“Aye, lassie, I never said otherwise. Tis merely that I dinna wish to offend ye.”
She scowled, but the expression did not reach her eyes. They were soft and full of understanding. She leaned in, crooking one finger, bidding him come closer. “I have a secret to tell you.”
“What is it?” he asked, leaning in as she requested.
“Don’t get all worked up over this, but things are little different in my time. You aren’t the first man I’ve ever shared a bed with.”
He leaned back, aghast. “Truly?”
Her eyes sparkled with a merry, mischievous light. “Truly. Like I said, things are different. You aren’t going to embarrass me or shock me. Okay? You can relax a little bit.”
He understood that her words were intended to soothe him, to make him more comfortable. And were she any other woman in the world, it might have worked.
But she was not any other woman in the world. She was Melissa, and it was going to take all of his self-control to lie in bed with her while making nothing more of it. For he knew the feel of her in his arms, her warmth and softness, her sweetness.
She was the one and only thing that made a shred of sense just then, in the chambers prepared in service of his wedding to Flora MacNeill. He longed to feel her close to him in the night, to feel her cling to him.
He longed to hold onto her, as well.
There was a flush on her cheeks as he gathered the blanket from the floor and draped it across the bed, while she settled in with her own blanket still tucked beneath her chin. Much to his surprise, she turned to her right side, facing him as he awkwardly attempted to settle himself without brushing against her.
“What are you going to do?” she whispered once his head touched the pillow.
He lay on his back, staring up at the heavy drapery atop the bed’s four posts. “I wish I could say with any certainty,” he confessed.
“Do you think they’ll send for a priest, like they said?”
“I have no doubt.”
“Can they do that? I mean, if we say we… you know. Consummated the marriage.”
He merely laughed. There they were, lying side-by-side, unable to touch. Speaking of a marriage which did not exist, a consummation which had not taken place.
Were this happening to anyone but him, he might find it humorous. “I suppose Niall MacNeill could do anything he set his mind to, lass. I dinna know the village priest,
but it would not be beyond belief for a man of the cloth to accept payment in exchange for his mark on a piece of paper.”
“I guess not many things have really changed over the years, after all,” she whispered with a note of sadness.
“Aye, I suppose not much has changed between this time and yours.”
“There will always be men whose money means more than anything. Even truth.”
He shifted in discomfort at her use of the word. Truth had not been the first thing on his mind as of late, and he knew well that his soul might be in danger for it. He had told so many lies, ever so many, and it was not in his nature to be a dishonest person.
He felt the most fleeting of pressure on his shoulder, so brief he might have imagined it. “I still think you’re doing the right thing,” she confided, pulling her hand back after that brief caress. “I don’t think you have anything to blame yourself for or to feel ashamed of. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to take control of your life, especially when the alternative would be so unhappy for you.”
He snorted. “Unhappy. Perhaps that ought to be the least of my concerns. Perhaps I have been looking at this all wrong. I’ve been selfish, ‘tis a fact.”
“I don’t think so.”
He turned to his side, facing her, that they might speak even more quietly. Unless he missed his mark, the chance of members of the household lingering near the door to overhear any bit of gossip they might carry throughout the house was high indeed.
“Many men have married women they did not care for,” he reasoned. “They did it for the betterment of their clan, for their family. They did it because it was expected of them. I doubt my brother would have made such a fuss were he the one in my place.”
“Don’t tell me you’re second-guessing yourself now,” she hissed. “It’s a little too late for that.”
“What are ye trying to say? That ye were right? That we should not have begun this?”
“No! I’m saying have to stick to your guns!” When he did not reply straight away, she added, “In other words—”
“Dinna ye need to explain. I understand your meaning all too well.” It was his surprise over her meaning that held his tongue in place. “Ye agree with me, then? Ye believe I am in the right?”
