The Laird's Yuletide Bride (Highland Bodyguards, Book 9.5)

by Emma Prince

  Fillan’s head snapped to MacDonnell then.

  “Though she seems quiet as a church mouse, she is prone to strong emotions,” MacDonnell said, waving at the stairs where she’d just vanished. “As her father, I tried no’ to overindulge her, to prepare her to serve her clan—and the clan she married into. Ye are her husband now, and the responsibility will fall to ye to toughen her up to face the realities of leadership. If I were ye, I’d let her have her cry and then get on with the task of accustoming her to the real world.”

  “She doesnae need toughening.”

  Belatedly, Fillan realized that he’d practically spat the words. But the events of the last two days had worn him down enough that he didn’t care. Mayhap tomorrow he would regret speaking to his father-in-law and a neighboring Laird so, yet he couldn’t stop himself from continuing.

  “Nor does she need to be hardened to the harshness of life. She is perfect the way she is. In fact, I’m going to fight tooth and nail to keep her soft and spoiled for the rest of her life. I treasure the fact that she has a gentle soul and a tender heart. I wouldnae dream of changing—”

  Suddenly, realization hit him like a bucket of ice water to the face.

  Fearing her rejection, he’d turned hard with her. Distant. Cold. Like her father. Like his father.

  If he truly meant all he’d just said, he couldn’t allow his own worries to destroy his delicate bride. He needed to fix this—now.

  Without hesitation, he headed for the stairs, ignoring MacDonnell’s flabbergasted harrumph and the stares of his clan as he went.

  Chapter Nine

  Adelaide needed to get away from here—from the keep, from the eyes of the crowd, and most of all from this cold, unhappy marriage.

  When she reached the stairs, her feet carried her to the guest chamber Gretha had shown her to earlier. But when she pushed inside, the chamber was dim and empty.

  Gretha had said that she’d send word down to the stables to have Adelaide’s saddlebags and the few possessions they contained brought up to her chamber after the ceremony. Belatedly, Adelaide realized that this was no longer considered her chamber. She was supposed to share with Fillan now.

  But judging from the way he’d treated her ever since that blasted kiss on the battlements at Eilean Donan, he would want her to remain as far away from him as was possible in the small castle.

  On wooden legs, Adelaide descended one flight of stairs to the door Gretha had indicated was Fillan’s. The chatelaine-cook had pointed it out when they’d been making their way to the hall for the wedding ceremony.

  The door swung open on well-oiled hinges. Someone had thoughtfully lit the fire in the hearth in anticipation of the newlyweds’ arrival. A large bed sat against the back wall, a trunk at its foot. There was a writing desk beneath the shuttered window, and an armoire with a smaller table containing a bowl and pitcher beside it.

  The faint scent of smoke and soap and clean masculine skin hung in the air—Fillan’s scent. The space was as sparse and serious as the rest of the keep, yet it felt lived in. She could almost picture Fillan seated at the desk, his handsome face set in lines of concentration. Or leaning back against the carved headboard, the blankets bunched around his trim waist…

  She jerked her thoughts away from the tempting image. He’d made it clear that he wanted naught to do with her. And she couldn’t stay and wait as her heart slowly withered and died, knowing he’d only married her because he’d been trapped. Knowing he would never truly want her.

  Her saddlebags had been propped against the chest at the foot of the bed. But her cloak was nowhere in sight. Resolutely, she moved to the armoire and pulled open one of its doors. Neat rows of plain shirts and MacVale plaids hung inside, and the scents of soap and Fillan were stronger here. Steeling her heart, she shuffled through them until she found her cloak hanging at the back.

  She hastily slung it around her shoulders and crossed to her saddlebags. She had no idea what she’d do next. To get out of the keep, she’d have to cross through the great hall, which was packed with clanspeople. Still, she closed the leather flaps on the bags and cinched them tight.

  But just as she was about to hoist them up onto her shoulder, the chamber door opened.

  When Fillan stepped inside, taking in the scene with unreadable eyes, the breath froze in her lungs.

  “What are ye doing?” he asked quietly.

  “I…” Adelaide willed herself to lift her chin and meet his gaze. “I am leaving.”

  He closed the door behind him but remained where he was, his brows lowered and his mouth tight.

  “Where?”

  “To a nunnery. I…I think we ought to get an annulment. I’ll take my vows to God so that my father doesnae have to worry about my future marriage prospects, and ye can continue with yer life here.”

  “Is that…” His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Is that what ye want, then?”

  She felt her face warming. It was a half-formed plan at best, but aught was better than being the unwelcome and unwanted wife for the rest of her life.

  “I think it is best.” She took a deep breath to fortify herself for what needed to be spoken next. “As ye said, this is clearly no’ an agreeable match. It seems there isnae room in yer life…” She pushed past the knot rising in her throat. “…Or in yer heart for me. I dinnae wish to burden ye with—”

  “What?”

  At the sharply spoken word, her head jerked up, but she found his dark brows winging with perplexity.

  “Ye think ye are…” He raked a hand through his hair. “Ye are far from a burden to me, Adelaide. And ye’ve already claimed a place in my heart.”

  Now it was her turn to go wide-eyed in confusion.

  “I dinnae understand. Ye spoke against our union. And ye’ve made it plain that ye dinnae wish to touch me. Ye wouldnae kiss me during the wedding ceremony, nor when ye won the garter. And ye have made arrangements to ensure that…” Her face went hot. “…That we dinnae make this a true marriage.”

  Fillan squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head slowly. “Bloody hell. What a mess I’ve made.”

  When his eyes opened, he fixed her with a desperate, searching look. “I only thought to save ye from my attentions if they werenae welcome. I felt ye tremble when I helped ye down from yer horse and thought ye found my touch…disagreeable. I tried to spare ye, both during the ceremony and just now in the hall, from having to bear my kiss.”

  She ducked her head, her fingers fiddling with each other. “If I seemed displeased, it was only because I am shy—and saddened to realize that ye arenae happy to have been forced into this marriage.”

  “Is that what I’ve made ye think? That I didnae want ye?”

  She nodded, no longer trusting her voice to escape past the pinch in her throat.

  He moved toward her then—cautiously, as if approaching a wounded animal. “Naught could be further from the truth, Adelaide. The fact is, I have been dunderheaded over ye since the moment I saw ye three years past. Do ye remember the night? Yer father asked me to ride to the MacDonnell keep to sign a peace accord on behalf of the MacVales. Ye were seated beside him on the dais, wearing a crimson gown that made yer skin look like cream.”

  The breath left her in a hard exhale. Could this be real? “A-aye, I remember.”

  “Ye were all eating yer evening meal, but once I signed the accord, yer father didnae invite me to stay and dine with ye. He wanted to show his clan that he wouldnae be taken advantage of by the MacVales again, and nor would he trust us easily.”

  He took another step toward her. “After that, I looked forward to every trip I made to the MacDonnell keep, even when months passed between visits, and even when I kenned a cold reception awaited me. I didnae care, as long as I could catch a single glimpse of ye, or hear yer voice, or merely ken that ye were somewhere close by, under the same roof as I was.”

  “And…and the kiss we shared?”

  His gaze was unwavering as he answered. “That w
as the best moment of my life.”

  A tempest of tangled emotions swirled within her. “I still dinnae understand, then. What changed between that kiss and now? One minute ye seemed to want me, and the next…”

  Fillan’s mouth compressed and a muscle ticked in his jaw. “Isnae it obvious?” He jerked his chin down toward his bad foot. “I didnae wish to saddle ye to a cripple for the rest of yer life.”

  He might as well have punched her in the stomach. “Fillan,” she breathed. “How could ye think that ye… How could ye imagine that I would…”

  But he seemed unconvinced by her half-formed protestations. He closed his eyes for a moment. “Ye dinnae understand what ye’ve been bound to. I cannae walk without a cane. I willnae ever be able to sweep ye up in my arms and carry ye to bed. If we were to ever have bairns, I couldnae play with them like a normal father. It is just as my father always said—I am damaged. I dinnae deserve ye.”

  Her heart shattered for him then. His father’s brutality had left scars on the inside, even if the bruises and cuts had healed on the outside.

  “That isnae what I see,” she whispered. She met his gaze so that he could witness the truth of her words in her eyes. “I see a handsome man before me, one whom I have revered from afar these past three years. I see a Laird who was handed an impossible task and is somehow succeeding. One who has overcome a decades-long legacy of cruelty and dishonor in just three years, bringing prosperity and pride back to an entire clan. Who is protective of his people, clever, kind, and steadfast. And…”

  She faltered then, but she could not hold back the truth any longer. “And I see a man whom I have already given my heart to. I can only pray that he will have a care with it.”

  Suddenly, he sat down hard on the edge of the trunk at the foot of the bed. His breath left him in a sharp exhale. “Ye cannae mean all that.”

  Adelaide lowered herself beside him. “Aye, I do.”

  He seized her hand, bringing it to his wildly thumping chest. “Yer heart will always be safe with me. And I hope ye will look after mine as well, for it already belongs to ye.”

  “I will,” she replied, her eyes pricking and her voice thick with emotion. “Always.”

  He gave a shaky huff. “Bloody hell. I was such a fool. Can ye forgive me?”

  “Aye, if ye’ll forgive me, too, for I was just as wrong as ye.”

  “How did we misunderstand each other so greatly?” he mused.

  “I suppose we both mistook the other to suit our own insecurities,” she said, lowering her lashes. “Ye for thinking I couldnae care for ye, and me for believing ye didnae want me.”

  “I vow no’ to jump to conclusions anymore, and to talk plainly with ye instead,” he said.

  But then he stilled, his face darkening with worry.

  “I dinnae wish to hide aught from ye, Adelaide. So before we go any further in this marriage, ye should see what ye’ll be dealing with if ye choose to stay.”

  Chapter Ten

  Trepidation flowed through Adelaide at Fillan’s veiled words, but she nodded.

  Fillan reached for the boot on his clubbed foot and began unlacing it. She watched, uncertain what he was about.

  It took several tugs to pull the boot free, for he’d wedged the foot into it despite the fact that it wasn’t made to accommodate the bend in his ankle. This close, she could see that the outside edge of the boot was worn down from where he walked on it.

  When at last he’d removed the boot, he pulled himself to his feet with the use of his cane. She could see clearly now the way his foot curved inward. To walk, he had to put his weight on the edge of the foot, which was heavily callused and blistered from rubbing inside the boot. His calf was slimmer on that side as well.

  “Does it hurt?” she murmured.

  “Aye.” His voice was tight with discomfort at being exposed to her stare, but he held still and let her look. “Mostly when I walk too much, but it also gets achy for no reason from time to time. But ye havenae seen all just yet.”

  He extended his hand to her, helping her rise from the trunk. Then he opened the lid and withdrew a frightening-looking contraption. It was a series of leather straps and wooden dowels. To her eye, it looked like some sort of torture device.

  “This is my brace,” he said, perching on the chest once more so that he could set aside his cane and use both hands. He held up the contraption. “My leg goes in here and my foot here. Then I tighten it so that it pulls my foot straight—well, as straight as I can stand it, for it hurts like the bloody devil.”

  Adelaide tried to hide her horror, yet she could not help but breathe, “Why inflict such a thing on yerself, then?”

  Fillan slowly lowered the brace and placed it on the trunk’s lid. “I dinnae like being this way, Adelaide. The brace is supposed to help. I only wear it at night, though, which makes my progress slow and painful.”

  “Why only at night?”

  “A holdover from my father,” he said softly. “He wouldnae let me wear a brace in front of others. He believed it was a sign of weakness.”

  Though it was unchristian to think such thoughts of the dead, Adelaide silently cursed Serlon MacVale for all the ways he’d hurt Fillan.

  “He might have seen fit to correct my foot when I was but a wee newborn bairn,” Fillan continued. “If he’d started me on the brace then, my foot might be straight now. But he wouldnae. No son of his would draw attention to such a flaw, cripple or nay, he used to say. I fashioned this brace myself a few years before his death and wore it in secret every night. It helps stretch my foot closer to straight during the night, but the day seems to take away all my progress.”

  “But…” She hesitated, trying to choose her words about this delicate topic carefully. “But yer father is gone now. Ye neednae live by his rules anymore. Why do ye still only wear the brace at night?”

  Fillan released a long breath. “I am still my father’s son. I dinnae like appearing enfeebled in front of my people. I want to be a better Laird to the clan—a strong Laird.”

  “But ye are—dinnae ye see?” She moved the brace out of the way so that she could sit beside him once more. “Ye have led them into a solid alliance with the Mackenzies. And soon, I hope ye can count on the MacDonnells as well. My father is stubborn, but he isnae blind. He and I both saw how much yer people respect ye. They are following yer lead in living with honor, working hard, and righting the wrongs of the past.”

  He lifted his gaze to her. Though his eyes still bore uncertainty, he took her hand and squeezed it. “Thank ye for saying that.”

  Feeling warm under his steady stare, she ducked her head. Her eyes landed on his clubbed foot once more. Belatedly, she noticed that the dark hairs on his legs had been rubbed off and his skin was red and chafed where the brace’s straps would lay.

  He must have followed her gaze, for he said, “Since I only wear it for a few hours, I have to pull the straps tight, else the brace does little.”

  “Mayhap if ye wore it during the day as well, ye wouldnae have to tighten it so,” she offered gently. Then she glanced at the brace, assessing it. “And ye could line the straps with something a wee bit softer. Linen, mayhap, or even silk.” She looked up at him. “I could do that for ye.”

  “Nay, ye dinnae need to—”

  She placed her palm over his heart, which made him go still. “I would never push ye to wear the brace during the day if ye dinnae wish to. Ye could stop wearing it all together and it wouldnae change how I feel about ye, nor how much yer people respect ye. But if ye continue wearing it, at least let me make it more comfortable for ye. I am yer wife now. I want to take care of ye.”

  Raw, unguarded emotion shimmered in the depths of his dark eyes. “Ye are a blessing, Adelaide.”

  But all too soon, his face clouded once more with uncertainty. “Does that mean…ye willnae seek a nunnery, then? Ye will stay with me as my wife? Ye can still leave if ye wish,” he hurried on. “Since we havenae consummated, I wouldnae stand in
yer way if ye want an annul—”

  Impulsively, she rocked forward and stopped his words with a kiss. He froze for several heartbeats, but then his mouth melted against hers and his arms looped around her, drawing her to him.

  Just like their first kiss, this one transformed slowly from tender to heated, deepening until their tongues caressed. Adelaide’s pulse careened higher as his fingers sank into her back possessively.

  Panting, Adelaide pulled back, breaking their kiss.

  “What is wrong?” Fillan breathed, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek.

  “I was wondering… That is, I hoped that we might make this a real marriage?” Her face felt as though it was on fire at the bold words. She waited a breathless moment while Fillan digested what she was saying. His brows lowering in confusion, then an instant later, his eyes widened and his lips parted.

  “This is our wedding night, after all,” she murmured, smiling shyly.

  “I want naught more in the world,” he replied. “But are ye sure? We neednae rush if ye dinnae want to.”

  “Oh aye.” Now she blazed all over, but her embarrassment was laced with a kindling fire of desire. “I am verra sure.”

  Like lightning, he was on his feet, guiding her up after him with one hand and gripping his cane in the other so that he could walk her toward the edge of the bed. But instead of sitting, he released her hand and began tugging his shirt from his belted plaid.

  Once it was over his head, she was gifted with the sight of his bare torso. Though he was not bulky with thick muscle, his shirt had hidden a lean, sinewy strength. Firelight danced over the hard planes of his chest and stomach, etching each distinct muscle with shadow.

  He shifted his weight to his good leg and propped his cane against the bed so that both his hands were free to work on his belt. Once it popped free, he caught the plaid as it slid down his hips and draped it over the foot of the bed.