They walked down the cobblestoned road. Side-by-side, he kept his strides short so she would not have to rush. Sorcha stole glances up at him but, with his hands grasped behind his back, Ian seemed calm. Several people greeted them and he even stopped to inspect a sword the blacksmith held up.
Finally, they arrived at the outskirts of the village and Sorcha stopped walking. “We must speak.” There was a slight tremble to her voice. “Now.”
There was a slight lift to his right brow and he peered down at her. “I agree.”
Taking her elbow, he directed her to a short wall. Then he took her by the waist and lifted her as if she weighed no more than a bird and placed her upon it. With a light jump, he sat next to her. “Why did ye leave today?”
His tone was level, but she did not know him well enough to know if he was angry or not.
“I needed to think. To seek my mother’s counsel.”
“Ye could have asked me to take ye. I would have.”
“At that moment, I did not wish to speak to ye at all.”
“Why?”
A long breath left her and Sorcha swallowed before meeting his gaze. How to say it? How to accept her new husband wished to give her away?
“Ye asked another to lay with me. I overheard ye.”
Ian paled, his face turning to stone. His gaze lowered to the ground until he finally released a short breath. “Ye overheard.”
“Aye, ye and Niven.”
“I see.”
“We will speak of this at another time.” He jumped down and lifted his hands to take her, once again, by the waist. Sorcha slapped his hands away.
“Nay. We will speak of it now. I will not go anywhere with ye. Nor will I sleep in yer chambers tonight. I cannot trust ye.”
A part of her wanted to falter. For a man like him, so handsome and proud, it had to be difficult. However, it did not give him leave to do what he had done. Sorcha would not allow him near her, nor any man. Any trust that had begun to develop between them was gone. Only one day after marrying, their relationship was in peril.
Feeling silly perched atop a wall, Sorcha contemplated jumping down. But in the end, she decided it was best to be higher than him at the moment.
“Ye have betrayed me and our marriage. To have asked another to join with me is the most vile thing a husband could ever do.” She gulped in air to keep from crying. In this moment, Sorcha would not allow emotions to make her seem weak before his eyes.
“I did not choose any of this. To be auctioned off to men like a prized cow. I had dreams of marrying one day and it mattered not what the man’s station was. What did matter is that, even if of humble means, my husband would respect me.”
“Sorcha...” Ian started, but she cut him off holding both hands up.
“Nay, I do not wish to hear it. I understand that something horrible must have led ye to do this. Although no matter what, nothing justifies yer actions. Ye, my husband, have proved one thing to me. Ye have no honor.”
Ian visibly flinched at this. His Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed. “I can only apologize to ye and offer an explanation. I am truly sorry for betraying ye. For the hurt hearing me speak those words caused. If I could change things I would. Forgive me.”
This time, tears did fall. It didn’t matter whether she forgave him or not. The trust was gone. The pain of his betrayal seared down the center of her body and her chest tightened so hard she bent forward. “I cannot. Not yet.”
Seeming to understand it was best not to say anything, he silently took her by the waist and lowered her without speaking.
They continued on to the keep, to an uncertain future where Sorcha and her new husband would live as strangers.
The sound of swords clanging echoed in his ears and Ian stumbled backward. His sparring partner was strong and seemed to have a need to kill someone.
“I do not wish to lose my head today, Atholl,” Ian told the warrior who responded by swinging again. With a loud grunt, the man lowered his sword and shoved it into the ground.
“What happened? Did someone kick yer dog?”
When the warrior lifted his gaze to meet Ian’s there was raw pain. “She left me.”
“Who? Finella? Where did she go?” Atholl and his betrothed were hand fasted during the last festival. It was common knowledge they were to be married in the summer.
“Why did she leave? What happened?” Ian pulled Atholl aside by the tunic none too gently.
Atholl sneered, his face contorting. However, it was pain that radiated from his shiny eyes. “She thinks I betrayed her with another. I did not.”
“Why would she think that?” Ian understood how Atholl felt. However, Atholl did not betray his love. “Can I do something to help?”
Admittedly, he had not noticed nor done much more than attempting to gain Sorcha’s favor the last few days. They were rapidly approaching a month of marriage and she had yet to return to his chambers. Instead, she slept in the adjoining room, never allowing him near.
True, he could demand his rights as her husband. But Ian had vowed not to do so. He would pay for what he did and if it took Sorcha years to forgive him, he deserved it.
“Nay. I will try again to speak to her. She is planning to leave Uist and go live with an uncle. However, I am hoping her mother talks her out of it.”
They walked to the well to get water. Just then, Sorcha and several women meandered to the garden gates.
It was good to see she’d made friends with the other woman. Sorcha loved the outdoors, so he did not mind that she insisted on working the gardens and helping with whatever chores were to be done in the courtyard. Except for the more menial labors, he allowed her the freedom to do as she wished.
“Keep me informed,” Ian said as he placed a hand on Atholl’s shoulder. He then walked to where Sorcha spoke to Cairstine, his cousin’s wife.
His wife’s gaze met his and her smile faltered. Pretending not to notice, he approached the women.
Cairstine greeted him by patting his forearm. “Are ye going to continue sparring, Ian?”
“Nay. I am going to take foodstuffs and firewood to Seamus and Magaidh.” He looked up to the sky. “I would like to return by the evening meal.”
Sorcha listened without commenting.
“Why don’t ye accompany him, Sorcha?” Cairstine suggested with a wide smile. “Ye just said how much ye wished to go for a ride outside the gates.”
The clever woman left Sorcha without excuse. Ian could have hugged her in that moment.
“I planned to take a wagon, so it will be a comfortable ride.”
When she finally nodded, he took her elbow and guided Sorcha toward the stables. “‘Tis a nice day for being outdoors.”
After sliding a glance to him, she nodded. “Aye, it is.”
Her husband was attentive as always. He made sure she was settled onto the bench and handing her a blanket in case she needed it. The day was quite warm yet, so she placed it under the bench, as she’d probably need it on their way back.
Several lads helped load the back of the wagon with firewood and Una, the cook, rushed out with a bundle and handed it to Ian. “‘Tis some cakes that Magaidh loves and also some herbs for her leg pains. Give her my love.”
She patted his jaw. “God bless ye for always taking care of them.” Una smiled at Sorcha. “Yer husband is a good man. Ye should be proud.”
As always, praise of Ian was warranted and she was proud of him for the most part. However, the memory of the conversation she overheard was not easy to forget. The man who everyone considered honorable had betrayed her trust. He’d apologized and asked for forgiveness too many times to count. Sorcha had grown tired of hearing it. Not once had he explained the reason for it and until he did, she would not succumb.
Now, as he settled next to her, once again, her body begged for his touch, but Sorcha resisted. It was a punishment a horrible test of her will. Every day when he came to fetch her for the morning meal, she’d been tempt
ed to lift her face for a kiss. The only touching between them was when Ian took her elbow.
He never tried to push her and although, at times, his gaze lingered on her with obvious desire, she could not bring herself to give in. Yes, many a night she’d tossed and turned, had overheard him through the thin door as he’d mumbled in annoyance.
Trust had begun to form, a bit at a time. That Ian did not demand his rights as husband, which he could, or show any type of anger toward her taking so long to forgive him was a clear statement of how honorable he was.
Yes, he’d wanted to continue her bloodline. That, she understood. However, nothing could ever justify what he had planned.
They rode in silent companionship for a bit. Ian pointed to the right. “There over the crest is where my family home was. ‘Tis now where my cousin, Rory, and his wife are.”
“Why have I not met this cousin of yers?” Sorcha asked, intrigued at the new information.
“He and my uncle do not get along. Past history. He blames my uncle for his brother’s death.” Ian let out a sigh. “I visit on occasion. But not often enough.”
Sorcha wanted to ask if there was more, but decided against it. Instead, she changed the subject. “Why did ye not tell me who the Ross’ were to ye?”
“If ye remember correctly, I did not have the opportunity to say anything. Took all my attention to protect myself from ye beating me.” He chuckled as he spoke and Sorcha had to smile. True. She had judged him without merit.
“I owe ye an apology for that. Never should I have assumed what ye did that day.”
His broad shoulders lifted and lowered. “Aye well, I probably deserved yer scorn. I’m sure I did something wrong in yer eyes for ye to dislike me so.”
It was hard not to flinch. In truth, Ian had never done anything wrong that she’d witnessed. Other than occasionally catching glimpses of him with a woman or visiting the pub, she’d not seen him do anything out of the ordinary. Now married to him, she realized he was not so much arrogant as he was quiet. When others held long conversations, Ian would be the one who listened, seeming to have endless patience.
Whenever he did speak, others would pay attention, as he rarely said much.
“I assumed ye arrogant. That because of yer looks, ye...”
“Ye think me handsome then?” His blue gaze slid to her. “Good to know.”
Sorcha pressed her lips together. “I didn’t say that.”
“Ach, ye hurt my heart.”
The jest made her waver and finally she smiled. “Very well, if ye must know, I do find ye to be very attractive.”
“Was it that hard to admit it?” When their gazes met, Sorcha’s chest tightened. If only there wasn’t the shadow of his betrayal, she could find herself falling in love with Ian easily. How she wished to erase his words from her memory.
Seeming to note that she’d retracted, Ian motioned ahead. “We have arrived. I won’t tarry long since ye wish to go to the village.”
“No.” Sorcha met his gaze. “We will remain here as long as ye wish. I can visit Mother another day. I believe they are coming the day after tomorrow for the evening meal.”
When he seemed relieved, she was glad to have granted him what he wished. For he’d tried so hard to regain her trust and although she believed he would not betray her ever again, it was so hard to forget.
Ian climbed down and rounded the wagon, he reached up for her, his gaze direct. Upon taking her waist and lowering her, his hands lingered at her waist for longer than necessary, but Sorcha did not protest. Finally, he placed a hand in the small of her back and guided her forward.
The elderly woman, Magaidh, was at the doorway. She held her arms open and Ian went to her. The two embraced; the large warrior and the frail woman with identical expressions of happiness.
The bond between them was as tangible as the breeze that blew across Sorcha’s face. For a moment, she wondered if ever there would be one like that between her and her husband.
“I bring someone to meet ye, Nana.” Ian held the woman’s hand as Sorcha approached. “‘Tis my wife, Sorcha.”
Magaidh smiled widely, her face crinkling. “‘Tis a bonnie wife ye found, laddie”
The woman reached for Sorcha and gave her a surprisingly tight hug. “Ye treat my laddie well and he will be loyal to ye until his death. Ye understand me?”
Sorcha looked to Ian. His gaze was downcast. “I know he will be.” His eyes lifted and met hers. The hope in them was evident. “He just has to give me time.”
“Ah, I see then. But remember time is not everlasting.” The older woman watched as Ian unloaded the wagon. “Put it by the fireplace. Seamus is inside resting. Ye go on in and visit with him. Sorcha and I will take care of the food.”
The old woman moved with the briskness of someone much younger. Although she did not carry a bag as heavy as the one Sorcha did, she didn’t seem at all bothered by her burden.
Once inside the cottage, Sorcha was shocked at how well appointed it was. The furnishings were those of someone with means. There was a woven rug on the floor of the main room. To the left, past an open door, were a large bed and sturdy side table.
In the main room where they entered, there was a carved table with four chairs. On one wall had a sturdy sideboard and on another, a hearth with hooks for cooking and heating water.
A large pot hung from a hook over the fire. Sorcha surmised it was the one for keeping water heated.
In the center of the table was a long tray that held a lamp and long straws for lighting.
She noted there were some dishes neatly stacked on the sideboard and a pretty wreath woven with heather atop a basket.
There were thick blankets folded on a side table set between two rocking chairs facing a small window. She imagined many an evening was spent in conversation sipping tea.
“What a lovely home,” Sorcha said, turning in a full circle. She placed the bundle of food on the table. “I would not mind a home such as this.”
Magaidh chuckled. “Sweet girl. Ye live in a grand house. The laird’s home is much more than this.”
“It may be, but it is not my own,” Sorcha replied. “‘Tis the family home, aye. But, I wish for one of my own.”
“Make tea. Let us speak.” Magaidh sat at the table and began sorting through the provisions. “Ian always takes such good care of us. He is a good lad. He purchased and brought all the furnishings and most of what ye see. I have to stop him at times or we won’t fit in here.”
Sorcha smiled as she poured water into a pot to put atop the fire and boil it for tea. Ian was anything but a “lad” as the woman insisted on calling him.
After placing another log into the hearth, she gathered two cups and placed them on the table.
Finally settled, she drank from the tea and looked over her shoulder to where Ian had yet to emerge. “Is yer husband unwell?”
“Aye, he has been for a few days now. I expect Ian will be insistent that we go to the keep to live.” The old woman sighed. “My husband is not much longer for this world.”
Sorcha searched for something brighter to speak about. “Ye were Ian’s nursemaid?”
A wide smile curved the old woman’s lips. “Aye, I raised both him and his cousin, Rory, since they were bairns. Rory was an easy child. But Ian, that one was a wily one.”
Her gaze moved toward the bedroom. “He was quite young, only seven, when he lost both parents. His mother died in childbirth of a bairn who did not survive and both their fathers died in battle later that same year. Was a sad year that one.”
Sorcha knew how his parents had died. She’d asked Cairstine. But that Ian was so young and that both died the same year was something she’d not considered.
“How dreadful.”
“Aye,” Magaidh agreed. “But now he has ye and maybe one day, if God grants it, several bairns as well.”
Sorcha lowered her voice. “I do not think it is possible. However, we have other things to get through.”
It shocked Sorcha that Ian had so much trust in someone. Obviously, it meant Magaidh knew of his injury.
The woman seemed to sense where her thoughts went. “He would not allow anyone to nurse him but me. It was a horrible sight, the wound festered and, for a few days, I thought he would succumb.”
“Do ye think,” Sorcha started and once again looked over her shoulder. “There is the possibility of siring?”
“The Lord only knows, lass. He does have what is needed. However, the injury was quite devastating.” Magaidh snickered. “Of course, ye already know that.”
Sorcha’s face reddened. “I’ve only been with him once. The next day...” She stopped talking as Ian emerged. His face rigid, he neared the table.
It was the look of determination and Sorcha hoped he’d not overheard their conversation.
“I will not have ye arguing, Nana. Ye will go with me to the keep. Seamus is not well. He needs a healer and constant care.”
The old woman did not seem at all fazed by Ian’s resolve. “Nay, we will not. What ails Seamus cannot be cured, laddie. ‘Tis old age and the way of life. Allow him to die where he wishes. My husband wishes to remain here. I know he told ye that.”
Ian’s eyes widened and, without a word, he stalked to the front door and walked out. Sorcha got to her feet prepared to follow, but Magaidh stopped her. “Give him some time. He needs to consider things.”
Mind racing, Sorcha resisted the urge to go after her husband. Magaidh touched her forearm. “Ye care for him already. Give yerselves the opportunity to be happy. Ian will nay betray ye again. Learn to trust him for he will be yer husband for many a year to come.” The older woman’s gaze moved toward the bedroom.
“Life goes by fast, lass. Every day we live is one day closer to this. Now, I wait to say goodbye. Only then will I move to the keep to live out my life there to keep Ian happy.”
Ian’s Bride: A Highland Romp Page 6
