She didn’t move for several minutes, having concluded that Alec was incurably hard-hearted, unlikely ever to change. This caused her no amount of heartache, but the larger part of her was infused with anger. She felt as if she’d been tricked. The man who had made love to her the first time in her cottage, the man who had so sweetly and ridiculously asked her to wed, and the man who had lain inside that narrow cot with her and said that he genuinely loved his parents was not the same man who had shared her marriage bed last night or walked out on her just now.
Chapter Twenty
“Your son is darling, Katie.”
Katie blinked and forced a smile, turning it upon Mari Maitland. “Thank you.”
These ladies, whom she imagined she might know all her life, due in part to Alec’s friendship with their husbands, were truly very charming, very gracious. She needed to thrust away the plaguing worry over Alec and concentrate on them. They’d traveled far to see two people, previously unknown to them, wed. She owed them greater courtesy than what she’d been able to manage as of yet today. Luckily, when Maddie had suggested she and Mari and Maggie might enjoy a visit inside her solar, the first quarter of an hour had required only that she smile and nod while they discussed the events of yesterday, confirming to Katie that it really had been magical, the sweet ceremony, the festive reception, the unruly dancing, the delicious feast—all beyond anything she might have hoped for.
Attempting then to pay greater attention to her guests, Katie watched as Maggie McEwen, with her striking green eyes and that glorious red-blonde hair, leaned forward and said, “Mari, I have to ask: what is the history between Lachlan’s mother and Swordmair’s steward? They appeared quite cozy yesterday.”
Edric? Katie hadn’t noticed, but then she’d had eyes only for Alec.
Mari flipped her long dark hair off her shoulder and her blue eyes flashed. She, too, bent forward, as if divulging secrets. “Months ago, Diana had very casually made mention that Swordmair’s steward was sweet on her, often sent her gifts—mostly the most incredible fabrics and laces. But then yesterday,” she went on and lent her gaze strictly to Maggie for a moment, “before we met up with you, she was a bundle of nerves inside the carriage. I badgered her about the cause until she admitted that she was nervous to see him again after so long.” Mari pressed her hand to her heart. “It was so sweet, she acted twenty years younger. Anyway, I kept on until I had the whole story—which is more tragic than not. Seems they were smitten with each other when they were younger, but her father married her off to someone else. And then,” she continued, her eyes widening, “when Lachlan’s father died, she thought she might reach out to Edric, but she’d been married off again, as the Scottish nobles loyal to Edward didn’t want Hawkmore falling into the wrong hands—essentially Lachlan’s, as he was nearly of age but was known for his fierce loyalty to Scotland.”
“How sad,” Maggie said, her slim shoulders falling.
“It was,” Mari agreed. “But now it’s not.” Her pretty smile grew, and she looked to Katie. “I fear Swordmair is about to lose its steward to Hawkmore.”
Katie gasped with pleasure. “How charming.”
“Never too old to find love—or recover it, I suppose,” Maggie concluded.
They remained in the solar for nearly an hour, not once even pretending to be about any chore such as mending or embroidery, gave all their attention to the conversation, which moved with lightning speed from one topic to the next. Katie liked them very much.
“Your friend Eleanor is amazing,” Maggie said. “Is she really a soldier?”
“She is, as able and brave as any man. She’s quite remarkable. And Henry adores her, as do I. And wasn’t she absolutely splendid yesterday? Outshone the bride, I daresay.”
“She’s just so...” Mari began, searching for words, “I don’t know, how do you describe someone so unexpected? She’s gorgeous and so enviously tall—”
“And her eyes!” Maggie added.
“And her hair! And her...I don’t know, her command of the room, of attention. I know I couldn’t keep my eyes off her.”
“You’re lucky to have a female friend in your midst, Katie,” said Maggie. “I adore Iain’s mother, but there’s nothing like a bosom companion—of your own age—to trade secrets and worries and come what may.”
“I am indeed blessed to call her friend.”
The door was pushed open. “They say you’ve only yourself to blame if you dinna like what ye hear through doors,” said Eleanor as she entered, returned once more to her breeches and tunic, though her long hair was braid free, neatly knotted at her nape. She met Katie’s eyes. “That bit there did me no harm, though.”
“I’m here if you need me, Elle,” Katie quipped. “Anytime your ego needs feeding. Are you joining us?”
“Say you will,” Mari encouraged.
Elle shook her head. “Nae, they’re wanting you out of doors.”
“Me?” Katie wondered.
“All of ye. Men being men, they want to have some games, make use of the larger crowd, receive all the adulation and whatnot.”
Maggie rolled her eyes and grinned. “Speaking of ego feeding.”
They all laughed but then Mari said as she got to her feet, “Well, egos aside, ladies, I’m not about to squander a chance to gawk at my husband while he’s about some manly play.”
“Good point,” Maggie said, and she stood as well.
Katie’s eyes widened at their open admiration for their spouses while Elle lifted her brow, her expression suggesting a new appreciation for these two women.
Twenty minutes later, the entire household, including the dozens of guests had moved outside the yard and across the bridge to the wide meadow. A few chairs had been carted out, where the laird and Maddie and several of their contemporaries sat on the sidelines.
“Oh, I know this game,” Mari said excitedly, clapping her hands together as about twenty men broke off into two groups on the open field. “It’s called shinty if I recall. Now, there’s two teams and they’ll use those curved sticks to try and get the ball past that man at each end. It’s silly, as they only get points for each goal and not a cake or sweet bread, but they’re men, so I understand it’s all about the winning, the competition of it—apparently that’s the prize.”
Katie and Maggie exchanged grins at this, and they all watched while one group of men began to remove their tunics. Alec was within that group, surprising Katie that he showed no reticence to be bare-backed, exposing his scars to one and all.
“I like it already,” Maggie said, with a pretty blush as Iain McEwen, within Alec’s group, also discarded his tunic, balling it up and tossing it to the side.
Katie gasped. His back was similar to Alec’s, equally and as grotesquely disfigured. Neither of the scarred visages could rightly compare to Lachlan’s face, worn everyday for all to see, but she now understood their bond, what drew and held them together.
Rather out of the blue, Mari said, “I’ve often wondered what they were about, those English bastards.” Obviously, she’d taken note of both Alec and Iain’s backs as well.
“Evil is what they were about,” Katie said absently.
“But why the different tactics? Did they grow bored with one form of torture and then move onto another? Lach said several of those prisoners were burned, he was the only one to survive it.”
“Mayhap that’s the answer,” Maggie said, her voice small and sorrowful. “If they all died, so would their...fun, whatever it was. So they used other methods to bring pain, to humiliate them.”
Mari blew out her frustration in a short burst of breath. “I’d like to get my hands on just one of them.”
“No,” Maggie shook her head. “You wouldn’t. Iain has worked too hard to put it behind him—he has so few nightmares now, he can talk more freely about it. I say leave it in the past, bury it further.”
Katie was stunned, first by the revelation that Iain, built as solid and as large as Alec, struggled
with night terrors. And then, because their wives talked so freely amongst themselves about it. Not a man out on that field, likely none of the older folk too, could claim to be without any scars. Alec and Lachlan and Iain, of course, could not hide from them, Lachlan least of all. But there they were, running around shirtless, laughing, playing, as if they’d struggled with no trauma at all.
“Alec doesn’t like to talk about it,” she confessed. “Should I...try to get him to, so that he might one day be able to leave it behind?”
Both women agreed. “No,” Mari said, while Maggie shook her head. “Of course, if he brings it up, then he’s given you leave to engage, and you should, or might want to.”
“For me, with Iain,” Maggie said, “I guess I just try to love him as best I can, never give him reason to doubt it, which there isn’t. He knows he can tell me anything, knows as well my love is sure and strong and not going anywhere. I think he hid his pain well, pushed it all down as deep as he could, but I’d like to think, I honestly believe that since we married, he truly is happier.”
“Of course he is,” Mari insisted. “Lach was just so flummoxed that I saw past the scars so quickly—but honestly, how could I not? I mean look at him. He always seemed to be fighting a greater battle with himself than with any mere mortal. It’s no exaggeration, though, he was fearsome and inflexible and frankly, often quite terrifying.” And with a simple shrug and a bonny grin, she said, “And now he’s not. I won’t take all the credit, though. Lach is very good at loving and showing love and I think letting himself do that, be that man, has allowed him to recognize what’s important. And then, what’s not.”
Katie acknowledged the small rising bit of envy creeping around inside her. What little interaction she’d witnessed between the two couples showed that Lachlan Maitland and Iain McEwen quite obviously adored their wives. And Mari and Maggie felt the same, she was sure. These then, aside from the laird of Swordmair and his bride, would be marked as the only spousal relationships she was aware of that were genuinely happy. She’d never known another.
But she knew she wanted that with Alec.
If only she knew what had turned him so cold last night and this morning.
THREE DAYS LATER ALL of Swordmair was returned to normal, the last of the guests taking their leave. The Maitlands and the McEwens had left yesterday, and Katie was very sorry to see Mari and Maggie leave, having enjoyed their company enormously. She’d been particularly enamored with the news Mari had shared, that she was expecting a babe. Lachlan was over the moon, she’d said, and while Katie’s joy had been tremendous as well, she felt very privileged that Mari had shared it with her, as they’d only just met.
They would meet again, Alec had told her, when she became a little weepy waving them off. She was sad to see them go, thought maybe only Mari and Maggie had kept her sane over the last few days.
Alec’s mood had not improved. He was polite, but didn’t seek her out; he made love to her each night, bringing her to glorying heights of pleasure, but remained aloof, seemed to be holding himself back even as he was giving her so much joy; he sought her out not at all on his own, and when Lachlan and Iain’s desire for their wives company had brought them to their side, they’d each unabashedly kissed their wives while Alec only stood silent at her side. It had almost been embarrassing, and she couldn’t believe the distance he’d kept from her had gone unnoticed, certainly not when she began to notice that Lachlan and Iain subsequently expressed themselves lesser and lesser to Mari and Maggie the longer they remained at Swordmair, as if they were uncomfortable causing her so much discomfort.
She wanted to rail at him, wanted to force the truth out of him, but knew he wouldn’t respond well to that. She realized then that the departure of all the guests, most especially Lach and Iain, was likely a very good thing, as they’d taken up so much of his time. He was all hers now, she could begin to show him love. Soon, everything would be well.
She’d spent the morning in the kitchen with Maddie and Corliss, the mistress wanting her to learn more about the management of Swordmair.
“I’m ready to put my feet up, lass,” Maddie had said. She wouldn’t, of course, Katie knew. Likely Alec’s desire to always be busy, always be about some chore, had been gotten from his mother. Katie couldn’t recall even one instance, outside supper in the hall, that Maddie sat in any form of leisure.
When she’d been released from those duties for the day, Katie purposefully sought out Alec, the task made easier by his business inside the stable. She waited for him to finish his conversation with the stable master, smiling when he finally did and found her waiting just outside.
Her husband did not return her smile, nor show any great pleasure at seeing her. Instead, he asked, “What do you need?” as if she were but one more task he must contend with.
Katie let go a nervous laugh. “I need my husband,” she said. “Or rather, I’d like some of his time. I thought we might—”
“Katie, I’ve got thirty-three things yet to do today,” he said. “Can we talk at supper? Would that be all right?” His tone hinted that he wasn’t actually asking her opinion.
She began to nod, her disappointment swift and aching, and Alec began to walk away.
“Actually, that is not all right.”
He faced her again, his frown deepening.
“I’m sorry. Is it asking too much for your wife to want some of your time? Really, do you not have an hour to spare me?”
He seemed to temper whatever hardness had bit him with her challenge. Still, his hazel eyes were narrow upon her. “An hour for what?”
“For anything. Will you come to the loch with me or can I help you with anything? Can we just ride somewhere, just the two of us? Maybe we could—”
“We can, just no’ today. As I’ve said, I’ve—”
She interrupted him now, her ire rising. “You’re not making it very easy to be your wife. And it seems you’re doing it purposefully and I don’t understand what has happened but I’ll tell you right now, if you continue with this behavior—whatever the bluidy hell it is—I can’t imagine I’ll continue to be so accommodating inside our chambers each night.” Good Lord, this is what she was reduced to! How dreadful.
He bore down on her, taking three long strides to stand very close to her. His lip was curled, and his eyes glittered with fantastic menace, so reminiscent of the very first time she’d met him, when he’d likewise frightened the bejesus out of her at her cottage at Dalserf.
Katie held her ground, clamping her lips, breathing her anger out her nose.
“You dinna want to go that route, wife,” he warned in a dangerous tone.
“But as you’ve chosen your route, you’ve left me with little choice,” she returned tartly. She eased her tone then, didn’t mind pleading, “Alec, I just want us to—”
“Aye, you’ve said what you want, and I’ve said I’ve matters to attend that cannot be put off.”
She nodded tightly, giving him a good glare for his implacable attitude. “Very well.”
She pivoted quickly and walked away, keen to hide the threatening tears, quivering with the heartache that came. She could not ignore the very sad truth, that they had—somehow, for some reason—circled fully around, back to what they were when they met, when he frightened her and scowled at her and cared not one iota for her.
HE GROUND HIS TEETH, which moved his jaw left and then right, watching her walk away, her angry strides and swinging arms harking back to when he first met her.
This current annoyance was self-directed, hating himself for not even trying to be agreeable. There went the result of his own infantile snit, that she was returned again to that angry woman he’d first met, the one he truly hadn’t seen in some time now. Swordmair had been good for her. The regular pinched look about her had disappeared. Jesu, she smiled and laughed now, had friends to call her own. Or rather, she had smiled and laughed for weeks and weeks, until they’d wed, until he’d managed to take that away from
her.
She didn’t love him, mayhap never would, but she was a good person, had proven to him already that he was lucky to have her as a wife. He’d known it immediately, on the very day of their wedding. She’d charmed his friends by way of her quick and easy friendship with Mari and Maggie. It hadn’t only been Lach and Iain’s heads turned when their sparkling laughter had drifted toward them. Before their wedding night, before everything had changed, he’d watched her with great satisfaction and no small amount of affection. Katie was perfect, open and friendly, managing her role as bride and hostess with rather impressive aplomb. True, she’d spent the majority of the days after the wedding with Mari and Maggie, but she’d also made time for their other guests. When Horace McGreevy had learned that she was a healer, the old man had bent her ear for nigh on an hour about his unaligned humors. She’d sat and listened, hadn’t rebuffed him or made excuses, hadn’t hastened away, had charmed the man enough that Alec’s father later reported that the three hundred acres he’d been badgering McGreevy for years to sell was, suddenly, available for purchase. His father had winked at Alec, said, “Ask her to get on Annand—I need to get that price down for the grain.”
She’d met and conversed easily with aged matrons and crusty old lairds, and had evidently charmed Lach’s mother, Diana. Before she’d departed with her son and daughter-in-law, Diana had said quietly to Alec, “I’m so pleased for you, Alec. She’s a wonderful woman. Your mam says already, she’s had a true and extraordinary effect on you.” She’d kissed his cheek. “You always reminded me so much of Lach that I worried excessively about you as well. I can rest now, that you both are so wonderfully settled.”
His mood souring further, Alec thought of the wedding present Katie had given him. Possibly she would have presented it to him on their wedding night, mayhap after he’d made love to her for the first time as her husband, if he’d bothered to hold her close afterward. Mayhap she’d have reached over and retrieved the small, wrapped token and laid it upon his bare chest.
The Love of Her Life (Highlander Heroes Book 6) Page 26
