“I believe he’s safe to ride,” he said. “If you could just hold his head while I get myself into the saddle.”
“I can boost you up.”
“Ainsley, you’re a big girl, but you’re not that big.”
“There’s no need to be insulting. I’m simply trying to help,” she retorted, then immediately felt horrible for snapping at him. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be. Just hold Demetrius, will you?”
Silently, she went to the stallion’s head and took hold of the bridle. Royal managed to hoist himself into the saddle, swearing under his breath the entire time, while Demetrius stamped and flicked his ears to signal his displeasure with the awkward process. Ainsley firmly held him, telling him what a good boy he was, and rubbed his nose until he settled down.
“Are you all right?” she asked her husband.
He hunched forward along the horse’s neck, trying to catch his breath. “Yes, although that just about killed me.”
She wanted to cry with frustration and anxiety as she came around to touch his knee. “Royal, I am so, so sorry. This never would have happened but for my idiotic behavior.”
He sat up straight, his malachite gaze narrowing to infuriated slits. “For Christ’s sake, Ainsley, would you please stop apologizing? It was I who failed you . Again. In fact, I seem completely incapable of giving you what you need to be happy, no matter how hard I try. I’m the one with the problem, not you, so please stop trying to pretend otherwise.”
She gaped up at him, too stunned to muster a sensible reply. “I, ah . . . I’m not sure how to respond to that, except to say I don’t think it’s true.”
“You don’t need to say or do anything but get on your blasted horse so we can put this episode behind us and return home. My lady,” he added in a commendably sarcastic tone for a man driven with pain.
Silently, Ainsley went to fetch the mare, pondering that she had a great deal of ground to recover with her much put upon husband.
Chapter Seventeen
Ainsley hurried down the staircase from the nursery floor and turned into the east wing. With the exception of the earl and countess, the family was situated in this wing of Kinglas, although most of the bedrooms were currently deserted. Braden’s room, next to Royal’s, had been hastily converted into a bedroom for Ainsley. Since Braden spent most of his time at university in Edinburgh, that arrangement made the most sense.
Or it would have made sense, if she and Royal enjoyed a conventional marriage. As it was, having her husband so close was more than enough to keep her awake at nights. She didn’t know what ruffled her more—her anxiety over conjugal relations or the almost overwhelming desire to initiate such relations. The confusing mix of emotions had obviously turned her into a melodramatic ninny, so she could hardly blame her husband for finally snapping.
Time to make it up to him, my girl.
Ainsley almost skidded to a halt when she saw her nemesis parked in a straight-backed chair outside of Royal’s bedroom, one of his scruffy dogs stretched out at his feet.
Hell and damnation.
She hadn’t seen Angus since she and Royal returned to Kinglas late this afternoon. The old curmudgeon had pitched a fit when he laid eyes on his grandson. The castle’s redoubtable housekeeper, thank God, had intervened with her usual brusque efficiency, but it had been quite the chore getting Royal up to his bedroom.
By the time Royal, with the help of a brawny footman, finally staggered upstairs to his bed, he looked close to collapse. Ainsley and Angus had hovered about him like a pair of old biddies until Mrs. Taffy had finally ordered them from the room.
She and Angus had parted ways in the hall with a silent understanding to avoid each other whenever possible. So far, she’d managed that by staying with Tira and having her dinner sent up to the nursery. Unfortunately, her luck had finally run out.
Squaring her shoulders, Ainsley marched down to confront the results of her bad decisions.
The truth was it was time to stop acting like a spoiled child, pitching Royal into the middle of one conflict after another. Besides, if she kept forcing him to choose between her and various members of his family, he might someday pick them over her. And the idea of losing her husband’s regard was too painful to bear.
You love him, you jinglebrains, so start acting like you do.
Staggered by the simple clarity of the revelation, she almost tripped over her own feet.
She loved Royal. It wasn’t just the gratitude, admiration, and affection she’d felt for him in the past. She loved him the way a woman loved a man, with all the messy, glorious bits that went along with it. It had taken her much too long to finally realize how lucky she was that she did.
After gloomily regarding his disgusting but thankfully unlit pipe, Angus glanced up with a scowl. “Yer lookin’ buffled-headed Sassenach . What’s amiss?”
She stopped in front of him, crossing her arms. “You mean besides the fact that your grandson took a terrible fall, and that you and I are the stubborn donkeys who caused it to happen?”
He regarded her modest peace offering with suspicion. Even the dog—probably Tina, although they all looked alike—seemed suspicious, warily sniffing the toe of her shoe before resuming a slumberous pose.
The old man’s scowl became slightly less wrinkly and he gave her a nod. “Aye, besides that. Problems with the wee lassie, mayhap?”
“Believe it or not, Tira let me rock her to sleep tonight. She went down with nary a peep.”
“Likely worn out by all the commotion today. Poor bairn was probably too tired to kick up a fuss, even with ye.”
Ainsley counted to five before she answered. “No doubt.”
Surprisingly, Angus flashed her a grin. “Nae, I wasna tryin’ to insult ye. But ye must admit the two of ye have had a rocky start.”
She settled into the scroll-backed antique chair on the opposite side of the hall, wincing at the hardness of the seat. Much of the furniture at Kinglas was ancient and uncomfortable. She’d come to the conclusion that romantic old castles were generally more appealing in fairy tales than in real life.
“I’m feeling quite confident that the situation will be much improved from now on,” she replied in a bracing tone.
Angus looked dubious.
“Is the surgeon still with Royal?” she asked, glancing at the bedroom door.
“Gone well-nigh a half hour. Taffy and Brody are applyin’ ointment to the bruisin’ and gettin’ the lad set up for a wee rest. That old sawbones tried to dose him with laudanum, but Royal wouldna take it. He hates it, ye ken. Says it makes him feel out of his head.”
“Oh, blast. I wanted to see Mr. Dillon before he left. What did he say? Does . . . does he think there will be any permanent injury?”
Angus waved his pipe dismissively. “His hip took most of the fall, and he’s got a crackin’ bruise or two but no broken bones. Strained his muscles, but Brody’s liniment will set that to right.”
Deeply relieved, Ainsley pressed a hand to her lips for a moment. “Thank God. When I saw him go flying like that—”
She couldn’t continue.
Angus studied her with a thoughtful gaze. “I was that surprised to hear he took a tumble. That boy sits a horse better than anyone here, even with his game leg. Do ye ken what happened?”
She grimaced. “He got distracted because he thought I’d taken a tumble.”
“That sounds daft. Why would he think that?”
“I’d found a nice, sheltered spot by the stream, farther up the glen.” She gave him a rueful smile. “I’d lain down for a bit and ended up falling asleep. When Royal saw me on the ground, he assumed the worst.”
Angus thoughtfully sucked on the stem of his unlit pipe. “Where did ye take yer snooze?”
“A few miles up the stream, just before the bend in the road takes you toward the woods. There’s a group of large rocks on the riverbank.”
Angus grimaced. “Ah, that explains it.”
She wa
ited, but the old man had lapsed into a brown study.
“Explains what?” she prompted.
“Why the lad got so rattled.”
“Since I am not a mind reader, I would be grateful if you explained it to me.”
He warily eyed her.
“Angus,” she said, forcing patience, “surely you realize by now that I very much care for Royal. I would never knowingly hurt him.”
“It’s the unknowin’ bit that worries me.”
“Since you can’t get rid of me, you must learn to trust me, sir. Please understand that I have every intention of taking care of Royal as best I can, just as he takes care of me.”
“Royal wants to take care of everyone. That’s who he is.”
She gave him a rueful smile. “Why do you think I asked him to marry me?”
“And a good day that was for ye, lassie.”
“I do know that.”
“If ye have a brain in yer head, ye do.”
“Angus—”
“Ye ken his nickname, do ye?”
She frowned at the seeming non sequitur. “No.”
“It’s Loyal Royal.”
Ainsley couldn’t hold back another smile. “It certainly fits.”
“And dinna tell him I told ye, neither,” the old man added. “He says it makes him sound like a chub or a jolter-head.”
She had no idea what those things were but she did know that Royal, underneath his occasionally brash demeanor, was genuinely modest. He didn’t give a hang if anyone thought poorly of him. But try to pay him a compliment? He’d sooner snap your nose off than say thank you for it.
“There’s nothing worse than a nickname that rhymes,” she said. “My brothers used to call me Painsley Ainsley.”
Angus laughed. “Sounds right, lassie.”
“I won’t ask you which part I’m right about. Now, will you please tell me what happened down at the river? Apparently, Royal was upset about that particular spot?”
The old man’s expression quickly shuttered.
“I won’t tell him you told me, if that’s what you’re worried about,” she said. “But I do think it would help me to know.”
Angus seemed to wage an internal debate for a few moments before he waggled his head, making him look a bit like one of his mop-headed dogs. “Ye ken that Victoria is Nick’s second wife?”
“I was aware that his lordship was widowed some years ago.”
“And ye ken that he and his first lady had a son?”
She blinked. “Royal has never mentioned that.” Nor had anyone else, including Victoria, which was surprising.
“Aye, we don’t talk about it much.”
When Angus shifted restlessly in his chair, the dog scrambled up and put a head on her master’s knee. Absently, the old man stroked her, more to comfort himself than the dog, Ainsley suspected.
“What happened?” she asked softly. “Was it an illness?”
“That would have been easier to bear.”
“An accident, then.”
“Cam was only four.” He paused for a moment, as if seeking strength to continue. “He drowned in the stream, in that same spot ye were today. That’s why Royal reacted so poorly. It’s the memories, ye see. They still run strong for all of us.”
Ainsley had to swallow a few times before she could answer. “I . . . that’s horrible. I’m so sorry. For his lordship, for all of you.”
“It all but killed puir Nick. His wife died a few years prior, ye ken, so little Cam was everything to him.” He shook his head. “It almost killed the lot of us, to tell ye the truth.”
The old man looked so quietly heartbroken she was tempted to wrap her arms around his scrawny shoulders. But that would only embarrass him, she suspected.
“Was Royal there when it happened?”
“All the lads were, except Nick. They were fishin’, and Cam slipped and fell into the water. By the time Logan got to him, it was too late.”
Ainsley frowned. “But the water seems quite sluggish there.”
“Now, but in the spring, it’s a torrent that can drag ye down before ye have a chance to catch yer breath.”
No wonder her husband had been so emphatic about her staying clear of the water. “Did Royal go in after the boy too?”
“Nae, not after Cam. He had to go in after Kade.”
“Kade fell in too?” she asked, aghast.
“The boy tried to rescue Cam, but the water was too strong and he almost drowned too. Royal got to him in time, but it was a near thing.”
She briefly pressed a hand to her eyes to hold back the tears. “Oh, God, I cannot imagine what a nightmare that was.”
“Ye dinna want to, lass.”
She lowered her hand. “I’m assuming the poor child’s death had something to do with the estrangement between Lord Arnprior and Logan.”
Angus nodded. “He blamed Logan for Cam’s death. Nick would have killed him that day, so mad with grief he was. But Royal stopped him and convinced Logan to leave Kinglas for a spell, for Nick’s sake.”
Emotion gripped her throat. “It always comes down to Royal, doesn’t it? He tries to save everyone, no matter the cost to himself.”
Her husband was truly the most selfless, big-hearted person she’d ever met. What in God’s name had she ever done to deserve the love of such a man?
“Aye,” replied Angus. “He even followed Nick off to war to watch over him. Royal was afraid the laird would throw himself in front of a French bullet so he could be with his little boy again.”
“But I doubt his lordship would ever do anything like that. He’s so devoted to his family.”
“That he is, but he was so torn up with grief back then. Royal insisted on joinin’ the Black Watch, too, and then he was the one who caught a bullet for his troubles,” Angus added bitterly. “Abandoned and left to die in a ditch, like a wounded animal. If Nick hadn’t found him when he did—”
Angus clamped his mouth. Tina whined and nudged his hand with her wet nose.
“Abandoned?” Ainsley asked.
The old man’s demeanor became rather brusque as he gave Tina a quick pat. “I’ve said too much. Ye’ll nae be draggin’ any more family secrets out of me, lassie.”
“It’s hardly a secret that Royal was wounded in battle,” she said, frustrated. “And in case you’ve forgotten, I’m family now too.”
He stubbornly shook his head. “Royal will nae thank me for tellin’ war stories to his bride. He hates even talkin’ about it, which ye ken very well. Makes him feel less of a man.”
“That’s ridiculous. I’ve never met a finer, stronger man.”
“Don’t tell me, tell him.”
“I intend to, but that doesn’t mean you can’t finish the story.”
“He’ll tell ye himself in his own time. Ye just need to be patient.”
“That is not one of my virtues, as you might have noticed,” she said tartly. “And may I just state that your family has a ridiculous number of secrets. It’s incredibly annoying.”
Angus stuck his pipe between his lips. “What’s the old saying ye Sassenachs like so much?” he mumbled around the stem. “Something about the pot callin’ the kettle black.”
She let out a grudging chuckle, even though her heart ached over the suffering of Royal and his family. It now made perfect sense that he’d be so alert to her various moods, that he’d be so patient with her. Royal recognized her pain because he was intimately acquainted with wrenching emotion himself.
“Point taken,” she said. “But—”
The bedroom door opened and Taffy bustled forth with a bundle of clothing in her arms.
Ainsley jumped to her feet. “Is Royal feeling better? I’m sorry I missed the surgeon when I was upstairs with Tira.”
The housekeeper’s gaunt features eased into a smile. “Dinna fash yerself, my lady. Mr. Royal is resting more easily, though he’s still in a bit of pain. Not that he’ll complain about it, mind ye.”
“Stoic
, the lad is,” said Angus. “Never wants to cause a fuss.”
“Unlike some people in this household,” Taffy said, narrowing her gaze on the old man.
The housekeeper, who’d been with the family for decades, was the only person at Kinglas who could boss Angus with any success. Ainsley had her own theories about why that was so, and had quizzed Royal during her first stay at Kinglas. Looking vaguely appalled, he had abruptly replied that it was best to leave some questions unexplored. His answer had confirmed her suspicions.
It was really rather sweet when one didn’t think about it too much.
“Ye canna be talkin’ about me,” Angus protested. “I’m as meek and mild as a pudding sleeve in a pulpit.”
“I have no idea what that means,” Ainsley said, “but I suspect it’s not true.”
“It means a parson,” Taffy explained. “And we’ll no be mistakin’ Mr. MacDonald for one of them.”
“Quite the opposite, I would think,” Ainsley said.
Taffy let out a little snort, and Angus bristled. “Now see here, Sassenach —”
Ainsley held up a quick hand. “I’m teasing, my dear sir. And since I’m just as responsible for Royal’s predicament, Taffy may as well scold me, too. We’ve both been perfectly dreadful. I’m astonished my husband didn’t toss us out the window days ago.”
“Mr. Royal loves ye both,” Taffy said, “so there’s no need to be fightin’ for his attention.”
Ainsley scrunched her face in acknowledgment of that truth. “I suppose that’s exactly what we’ve been doing. Goodness, we’re worse than Tira.”
Angus shot Taffy a scowl. “I dinna need ye to tell me the lad loves us.”
“Then stop kickin’ up a fuss and help the puir man.”
“That’s why I came back to Kinglas in the first place, ye daft woman. To help with Tira.”
“Oh, is that what ye call it?”
As entertaining as it was to watch Angus get his well-earned comeuppance, Ainsley was increasingly impatient to see her husband. “You’ve been a great help, Angus, and if you could check on Tira right now, that would be lovely. I’ll go in and see Royal.”
The Highlander Who Protected Me (Clan Kendrick #1) Page 26
