“But I thought I’d go see the lad now,” Angus said. “He’ll no be easy until he sees me, I ken.”
Taffy shook her head. “Mr. Royal needs a rest, not visitors.”
“I’m no visitor. I’m his bloody grandfather.”
The housekeeper responded by dumping the pile of clothes into the old man’s arms. “Ye’ll oblige me by taking Mr. Royal’s dirty things down to the laundry. He landed in a mud puddle when he tumbled off that great beast of his.”
“Do you think I might be able to go in?” Ainsley asked. “I promise I won’t stay long.”
Taffy smiled at her. “Of course, my lady. I ken he’ll be happy to see ye .”
“Why does she get to see the lad and I don’t?” Angus demanded.
Taffy rolled her eyes. “Because she’s his wife, ye daft old man. Now please be off with those things and take that scruffy dog with ye. I won’t have her muckin’ up my clean floors.”
“It wouldna make a difference if I did mind,” Angus grumbled.
“Angus, I’ll come find you and tell you how Royal is, if you check on Tira,” Ainsley said.
The old man gave her a tentative smile. “I’d appreciate that, lass.”
“You have my word.”
He clicked his tongue at his dog and headed off down the hall. Ainsley turned back to find Taffy shrewdly regarding her.
“What?” she asked.
“Have ye made yer peace with each other, then?”
Ainsley waggled a hand. “More like a truce for Royal’s sake, I imagine.”
“Mr. MacDonald is an old fool, but he means well, ye ken. And he’d do anything for Mr. Royal. We all would.”
“As would I.”
Taffy studied her a bit too long before nodding. “As ye say, my lady. Now, Brody is just makin’ Mr. Royal more comfortable. But the poor man is a bit . . .”
“Grumpy?”
“He’s always such when his leg troubles him. He hates to give in to it.”
“I promise not to fash him.”
Taffy flashed a brief smile. “And ye’ll no be keepin’ him up too late?”
“I promise.”
After bobbing a quick curtsy, the housekeeper went off down the corridor. Ainsley slowly walked to the bedroom door. For some silly reason, her heart was thudding like a hammer against her ribs.
It’s because you love him, you nitwit.
That simple revelation made her vulnerable, which was not a feeling she much enjoyed.
Taking a deep breath for courage, she knocked on her husband’s door.
Chapter Eighteen
The door swung open to reveal the castle’s stable master. Brody’s sharply arched eyebrows always gave him a vaguely astonished appearance, and now they twitched even higher. He cast a wary look over his shoulder in response to Ainsley’s intrusion into the male sanctum.
“Who is it, Brody?” came her husband’s gruff voice from inside the room.
“It’s yer lady, sir. Do ye wish to see her?”
“Of course he wishes to see me.” Ainsley ignored Royal’s low-pitched curse as she pushed by Brody and marched in. “I am Mr. Royal’s beloved wife, after all.”
Sighing, the stable master closed the door and followed her.
She stopped several feet from the bed to dart a quick glance around. Since this was the first time she’d ever been in her husband’s bedroom—a marital oversight of epic proportions—she felt curious and slightly awkward.
The wing housing the family bedrooms, built during the Restoration, displayed that era’s taste for ornate decoration. The paneled walls were beautifully carved, and there was a truly gorgeous mantel topping the old stone fireplace. What furniture there was—Royal seemed to prefer a more austere style—came from a later period. Joining the sturdy oak chest and a battered press cupboard were a plain leather armchair with a matching footstool and small bedside table with a lamp. It was spare and to the point, like the man himself.
The only exception was the enormous, old-fashioned bed in the French style. Its four posts were beautifully scrolled and polished to a high gleam. They reached almost to the ceiling, supporting a massive wooden canopy that featured elaborate carvings of crowns and stags. From the beautiful old wood hung gold and burgundy drapes that matched the coverlet on a mattress wide enough to house half of Marie Antoinette’s court.
It was ridiculously grand, and not at all the sort of bed one would imagine for a brusque, scowling ex-soldier with not the least bit of patience for frills and furbelows, much less lounging about. Somehow, though, Royal’s dark, masculine good looks and his hard-edged arrogance seemed perfectly suited to a setting that harkened back to the dramatic glories of days gone by. There was a sense about her husband that he belonged in a time mistily shrouded in tales of romance and adventure, a time when a man fought to defend his lady and his land, and to uphold the honor of his clan.
“I’m not really in the mood for visitors, Ainsley,” he said. “In fact, I’m not in the mood to see anyone for a good long time.”
Ainsley pointed to the simple gold band on her ring finger. “This says otherwise. I’m not a visitor, I’m your better half.”
Apologizing again would only prompt another display of temper and surely lead to her losing her temper as well. She needed to prove that, all evidence to the contrary, she was a mature woman, perfectly capable of taking care of her husband, her daughter, and his annoying old grandfather if necessary.
“That’s debatable,” Royal muttered.
Ainsley cupped a hand to her ear. “I’m sorry, what was that?”
“I said you shouldn’t be in here. I’m not properly dressed.”
She pressed a dramatic hand to her bosom. “Yes, and I’m not sure my delicate sensibilities can withstand the shock of seeing you attired in your nightshirt. Brody, would you toddle off next door and ask my maid to fetch my smelling salts? If I faint, Mr. Royal is in no condition to catch me. As he so delicately pointed out this afternoon, I’m rather a big girl.”
“I did not say that,” Royal indignantly replied.
“Still, it’s best to be prepared, don’t you think?” She heaved a gusty sigh. “Run along now, Brody. I don’t know how much longer I can hang on.”
“Ah . . . mayhap ye best sit down?” Brody said, looking alarmed.
“Good God, man. She’s pulling your leg,” Royal scoffed.
The stable master mustered a weak smile. “Sorry, my lady.”
“No apology necessary, I assure you. People often mistake my intention.” She gave Royal her sweetest smile. “My dear husband suffers from the same unfortunate inability to understand me. It’s quite tragic, although a common affliction of the married state, I’m told.”
The dear husband rolled his eyes. “Maybe it’s because you don’t make your intentions clear.”
She pretended to consider that, and then shook her head. “No, it’s certainly you.”
“Brody, I feel in need of liquid courage,” Royal said. “Please fetch me a glass and the bottle from my dresser, and then you can go. Apparently, my dear wife has come to nurse me.”
“I’m happy to do whatever I can, of course,” she said. “Although I hear that Brody has done a bang-up job.”
The stable master cut her an uncertain look as he went to fetch the requested items.
“I’m actually serious this time, Brody,” Ainsley said. “Taffy told me that you did a splendid job fixing Mr. Royal’s leg.”
Brody flashed her a shy smile. “Thank ye, my lady. I’ve got a wee bit of experience, since I’ve been patching up Kendricks for many a year.”
“And much better than that old sawbones,” Royal grumbled. “All he did was maul me about.”
“Nae, sir, Mr. Dillon is a fine surgeon,” Brody said. “I ken he’s got the measure of that leg of yers.”
“I’m glad someone does,” Royal said.
Ainsley wandered closer to the bed. “Is it very bad?”
He hesitated.
/> “The truth, please,” she coaxed.
“If you insist on knowing the truth, it hurts like the devil.”
“Royal, I don’t want you hiding how you feel from me. I’m your wife, and I have a right to know what troubles you.” For good measure, she wagged a finger at him.
His mouth twitched.
Ah. Finally, a glimpse of sunshine.
“Yes, my lady,” he said.
When Brody carried over a tray holding the requested decanter and glass, Ainsley took it and placed it on the bedside table, shifting the oil lamp to make room. The fading dusk threw shadows under the canopy and deepened the hollows of Royal’s cheekbones. Her heart clenched at the weariness and pain hazing his green eyes.
“Are you finished with your ministrations?” she asked Brody.
“Aye, my lady, although Mr. Royal could use a wee bit more liniment massaged into his leg. Helps to keep it from seizing up.”
Ainsley nodded at the small bottle on the table. “Is that it?”
“Aye.”
“Very well. I’ll take care of that.”
For a few moments, both men sported similarly incredulous expressions. Then Royal’s mouth flattened into a disapproving line. “You’ll do no such thing.”
“I’m perfectly capable of putting liniment on an injury, Royal.”
“Not this injury.”
Ainsley turned her back on him. “That will be all, Brody. I’ll ring if we need help.”
The older man’s smile was wry. “Ye’ll do just fine. Have Taffy fetch me if ye need anything else.”
“Brody, I don’t want Lady Ainsley—”
“I’ll be checkin’ on ye later, sir. Good night, my lady.” With a respectful nod, Brody quickly retreated from the field.
Clearly taken aback by his henchman’s refusal to cooperate, Royal muttered under his breath. He stretched out a long arm past Ainsley and grabbed the decanter. After splashing a generous measure into the cut crystal glass, he tossed it back in one swallow.
Without flinching, which made her wince.
“Does that actually help?” she asked.
When he splashed another measure into the glass, she had to swallow a protest. The poor man was in pain and didn’t need a scold. Likely, he’d haul himself off the bed and toss her from the room, injury or no. Ainsley sensed that today’s unfortunate events had finally breached his self-control, bringing his impressive willpower crashing down. Her husband was dangerously on edge.
Though she could never be afraid of him, triggering another verbal outburst would not benefit either his health or their marriage.
“It certainly doesn’t hurt,” he said, tossing back his drink.
She glanced at a small medicinal bottle next to the liniment. “Are those laudanum drops? Might they not be more effective for the pain?”
“Undoubtedly, but they also make my head feel like wet wool.”
“Whisky obviously doesn’t have the same effect.”
The only time she’d ever drunk too much whisky was the night before she’d asked Royal to marry her. She’d awakened the next morning with an aching head and a stomach as sour as an old lemon. It had taken three cups of strong coffee before she’d been able to think again.
“Not like the drops,” he said. “If you’d ever taken them, you’d know exactly what I mean.”
“I have taken them.”
A quick frown of concern replaced his surly expression. “Why?”
Her skin crawled at the thought of even mentioning that awful time. But she’d just told him she wanted nothing but honesty from him. Could she offer him anything less in return?
“After Cringlewood assaulted me, I had trouble sleeping. I thought it would help.”
He sucked in a breath. Several seconds elapsed before he replied. “Did it?”
“I think a brain that feels like wet wool is a very apt description.”
True, the drops had made her sleep, but they’d also given her nightmares. And while awake, she’d felt apart from herself in a dreadful, detached sort of way.
“I felt like I couldn’t think, or make any decisions,” she added. “And I needed to think.”
Royal reached over and briefly squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry, Ainsley. I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.”
She shrugged. “But they’re always lurking, aren’t they? I’m not sure it makes sense to pretend otherwise.”
“Still, I shouldn’t have snapped—”
“Oh, do stop apologizing,” she said, echoing his words from earlier in the day. “I’m the one who’s at fault here. My idiotic tantrum compelled you to come dashing to my rescue.”
He scratched his bristled chin. “It wasn’t much of a rescue.”
She had to repress a smile. “Sadly true. I was forced to rescue you , which must have been quite the blow to your masculine ego.”
He narrowed his eyes in warning.
Consistent with her fatal tendency to ignore warnings, Ainsley flashed him a little smirk. “Especially with you being a war hero and whatnot. You have a reputation to uphold.”
His laugh was grudging. “Especially the whatnot.”
“I don’t see why men should get to do all the rescuing, anyway. It’s not fair, when you think about it.”
“Nonsense. It’s our job to rescue children, puppies, and damsels in distress, especially from fire-breathing dragons or marauding pirates. Didn’t anyone ever teach you that?”
“I must have missed that lesson.” She propped her hands on her hips. “But do I really look like a damsel in distress?”
“At the moment, you look rather like a hectoring wife.”
“And you, sir, look like a bad-tempered husband.”
When she kicked off her shoes and started to clamber up on the high mattress, Royal went as stiff as a hitching post. Then he snatched the coverlet and sheets up under his arms, as if to safeguard his virtue.
“Ainsley, what the hell are you doing?”
“I should think it obvious even to a man all but insensible from drink.”
“I’ve barely had a drop!”
She sat tailor-style next to his legs, trying not to jostle him. The bed was so wide that she could choose to put considerable space between them, but she had an almost desperate need to be close. More than anything, she wanted to snuggle up and kiss the grumps from his stern mouth.
Sadly, he seemed disinclined to accept her affection. In fact, he was all but glowering at her.
“I’m not going to have my way with you, if that’s what you’re worried about,” she said. “So you needn’t bristle like your outraged maiden aunt.”
“I don’t have a maiden aunt.”
She tapped her forehead. “I will file that for future reference.”
He sighed. “Ainsley, you should not be in here, much less sitting on my bed. It’s not proper.”
“Royal, I’m your lawfully wedded wife. It’s quite shocking that I hadn’t yet seen your room until now.” She glanced up at the expansive canopy with its elegant draperies. “And this bed is perfectly splendid. It does give a girl some interesting ideas, if you know what I mean.”
A surprising flush bronzed his cheekbones. Although she was simply trying to tease him into a better mood, she had to admit he looked altogether enticing with his broad shoulders showcased by the fine linen nightshirt, and a nice sliver of chest exposed by the gap of his collar. She’d never really seen a man’s naked torso before, and her fingers itched to play with the dark hair that dusted his brawny muscles.
Still, she had no intention of throwing herself at him, knowing her nerves would likely get the better of her. The idea of cuddling with him, however, was enormously appealing. She suspected they both needed comforting—if only he was willing to receive as well as give.
Her husband cleared his throat. “I suggest you get those ideas right out of your head. I’m in no condition for any sort of . . .” He paused. “I’m not sure what you’re proposing, come to think of it.�
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“I’m only trying to tease you out of the sullens, my dear sir. You’ve had an exceedingly trying day, and I’m truly sorry for that.”
“I thought no more apologies?”
“There’s no need for you to apologize to me, certainly. You’ve been an absolute saint since the day I reappeared on the doorstep of Kendrick House. But I do wish you would let me abase myself at your feet, especially now that I’m sitting right next to them. I’ve been an awful pill, Royal. How you continue to bear me is the question.”
His gaze warmed. “It’s not your fault, love. You’ve been under a great deal of strain.”
She waggled a hand. “The strain is partly my fault. Angus is responsible for the other part.”
“I suspect he wouldn’t agree.”
“You’d be wrong about that. Your grandfather and I had a little chat, and we owned up to responsibility for our bad behavior.”
Royal’s eyebrows shot up. “You did?”
She nodded.
He settled back onto the plump cushions propped behind him. “Did you get him drunk first?”
“Believe it or not, we simply talked. In fact, we had barely insulted each other even after twenty minutes of conversation.”
“Amazing. I hope I won’t have to keep falling off my horse to enforce the truce.”
Ainsley laughed. “I will certainly keep you apprised. But I do think Angus and I have come to an understanding.”
He looked dubious. “So, what did you two talk about, aside from mutual guilt?”
“You.”
“As I feared,” he said, reaching for his glass. “I hope he didn’t tell you any outlandish stories.”
“That’s for next time.”
“Something to look forward to, then.”
She ignored his sarcasm and rested her hand on his blanket-swaddled foot. How did one even approach such a terrible subject? But it had to be done if they were ever to have the marriage she longed for. Royal needed to know she truly wished to ease the pain that plagued him, both in body and mind.
“What is it, Ainsley?” he quietly asked.
“Angus told me about your little nephew.”
Even through the layers of bedclothes, she felt his body go tense.
“If I’d known, I never would have chosen that spot.” She gently rubbed his foot, trying to convey her sadness for him.
The Highlander Who Protected Me (Clan Kendrick #1) Page 27
