“In prison.” Colin drank his ale straight down, not caring that he was becoming well into his cups. For one night he wanted to forget. For one night he wanted to be irresponsible, just like his family always said he was. For one night he didn’t want the nagging thought that he needed to return to MacLean land and take over the duties of the MacLean chieftainship and provide a home for his MacLean bride.
He wanted to get pissing drunk and damn it, he was going to do it.
He ignored Eleanor’s shocked silence and Sutherland’s choke of laughter.
“Prison?” she asked. “I think I need to hear this story.”
“She was my cellmate. I helped her escape. With Campbell’s help, of course.” He shot Sutherland a scathing glance. “Explain to me true now why the hell ye sent Campbell, of all people.”
Sutherland shook his head and pushed his mug back and forth between his hands.
Eleanor tipped her head to study Colin more closely. “Well, she’s bathing right now, and I’m sure you’ll want to go to her shortly. She said you’ve only been wed a few days.”
“I’ll stay down here,” he mumbled. “Give her a good night’s sleep. She almost died, ye know. The river swept her away. Right before my eyes. Married no’ even a full day and I almost killed my wife.”
In the back of his mind, he thought that maybe he was saying too much. It was probably best that he shut his mouth and continue to drink.
Brice and Eleanor were watching him with equal expressions of pity and intrigue.
“What?” he muttered as he waved the lad forward to fill his mug again.
“You’re not going to her tonight?” Eleanor asked.
“It’s best no’ to.”
Eleanor stood and looked down on him. “Best for whom? You or her?”
She walked away and Colin knew she was angry but couldn’t figure out why. He was doing Maggie a favor by staying away. If he went to her, he’d want to make love to her, and if he made love to her, then he might get her with child, and he definitely did not need a child right now.
At least that was what he told himself. They were valid reasons.
They were.
—
After Maggie bathed and soaked away the soreness, she wrapped herself in an overly large blanket and sat by the fire, letting the warmth soothe her tired bones. She’d never been so weary in her life. Even the blood flowing through her veins felt thick and sluggish. Apart from being in prison, the past days had been the most trying she’d ever encountered. Both physically and mentally.
It felt good to sit in front of the fire and just be, waiting for her husband to come to her.
She felt a ripple of something in her stomach at the thought of making love again. It was a little bit of anxiety and a little bit of anticipation.
She yawned and pulled her chilled feet beneath her, covering them with the excess blanket. She felt her hair and found that it was already dry and probably curling madly about her head. She thought of Eleanor’s sleek blond hair that cooperated so wonderfully to stay in its bun. What would her own hair do if it were longer? She remembered it being far too curly for her liking; that was one of the reasons she’d cut it. It would never be sleek, and it would never stay put in a bun or any other hairstyle.
She touched the shorn ends thoughtfully. Would Colin prefer her hair longer? Would he prefer her to be more feminine? Both Eleanor and Innis were the picture of femininity. Maggie had always assumed that being a woman—being a lady—meant that she had to succumb to the wishes of a man and do what a man said. But Innis and Eleanor weren’t like that. Especially Eleanor. She had a commanding presence that was close to her husband’s, if not equal. And Innis had a way of wrapping Evan around her fingers until he was happy to do her bidding.
Was Maggie’s idea of womanhood so far off that she’d fooled herself? Or were Eleanor and Innis the exceptions? She’d not had a woman in her life to know the answers. She’d loved her life but was beginning to wonder if she’d missed out on something vital that all girls needed in order to become women.
She yawned and was surprised to see that the candles had almost burned out. Colin was surely taking his time.
Unfolding herself from the chair, she stretched, the blanket falling to the floor, and looked down at her body, grimacing. She was bony and flat where she should have been curved. Her bosom was small. She was not built like Innis and Eleanor. Did that concern Colin? Would he prefer not only a more womanly wife but also a curvier one? One with more fat upon her?
What was wrong with her? Why was she suddenly comparing herself to Eleanor and Innis, two women she’d sworn she would never be like?
She snatched up the blanket and stomped toward the bed, where she flipped back the sheets and then hesitated. Quickly, she wrapped the blanket around her and opened the door a crack to peer out. She heard raucous laughter come from the great hall. Male laughter.
She closed the door and stared at it thoughtfully for a moment, then turned around and dressed in clean breeches and a clean shirt.
Do no’ do this!
Ignoring the voice inside her head, she left the bedchamber. The great hall was filled with mainly men and a few women on the opposite side, but no trace of Eleanor. Colin and Sutherland were at their own table, deep in discussion, drinking from large tankards. It appeared that this wasn’t Colin’s first, nor his second. Probably not even his third.
A group of young men sat a few tables away, talking and laughing quietly. They were older than lads but not quite accepted by the seasoned warriors yet. She headed toward them, anger propelling her. This probably wasn’t the most prudent action, but it was her third night of marriage, and she was damned if Colin was going to set a routine such as this. It was her marriage as well, and she should have some say in how it was going to play out.
Someone handed her a tankard of ale, and she nodded her thanks before taking a large swallow. The young men were speaking of Culloden, and she listened to their stories, mentally reliving her own memories but keeping silent so as not to draw attention to herself.
The later it became, the more the stories took on the form of tall tales, and soon they were all laughing. This was where she was most comfortable, in the obscurity of a group of braggarts. Here was where she felt at home, not in the world that the Innises and Eleanors occupied but this place, where the ale ran freely and the stories were rampant.
“What about ye?” one of them asked, turning his bright alcohol-filled gaze on her. “Did ye fight at Culloden?”
The rest of them turned their avid attention to her. “Aye,” she said quietly.
The man peered at her with narrowed eyes, his expression questioning. “Aren’ ye…”
“Aye,” she said. She’d never been one to hide who she was, except in an English prison. Her brother’s men had accepted her. She’d received some vulgar remarks and a few lads and men who pushed too far, until they discovered she was talented enough with a sword and a dagger to shut their mouths.
The speaker let out a loud guffaw. Out of the corner of her eye, where she’d been unwillingly watching Colin get drunker and drunker, she saw him and Sutherland turn their heads toward them.
“Ye lie,” her accuser said. “Ye’re a woman. Women do no’ fight in battle.”
“This one does,” she said with enough conviction that it shut the lad up.
“Who’d ye fight with?” He chuckled and looked around at his peers only to find that they were looking at her in interest and he wasn’t the center of attention.
“The Sinclairs.”
“I do no’ believe ye.” He slammed his mug of ale on the scarred wooden table for emphasis.
Maggie shrugged. “I do no’ much care what ye believe.”
The other lads laughed softly, maybe a wee bit nervously. Her accuser’s face darkened, and Maggie watched him closely. By now the little scene had caught the full attention of Colin and Sutherland; the younger men didn’t seem to notice the older men watching them.<
br />
“Surely, then, ye have a story to add to ours.”
“Enough, Douglas,” one of the lads murmured.
“Nae. I do no’ believe that a woman would willingly fight in a war. And I do no’ believe her.” He tipped his chin toward her, as if commanding her to speak.
She raised her gaze to his, and for a moment the entire great hall was silent. It seemed everyone was holding his breath, waiting for her reply.
Chapter 30
From the corner of her eye, Maggie saw Colin attempt to stand, but Sutherland put a hand on his arm and forced him back down. The lads were looking at her, waiting. Maggie had no desire to tell her story. Especially to this group of feckless lads and most especially to Douglas, who acted as if Culloden had been one big adventure.
“I fought,” she said, taking another gulp of ale.
Douglas snorted, and that caught at Maggie’s anger. She raised her eyes to him again. “I was arrested and imprisoned by the English at Fort Augustus. I watched men die from the prison sickness, and I watched men beaten to death for fighting to save their country and their way of life. Is that what ye wanted to hear?”
The others looked away, but Douglas was not as wise. “Ye mean to tell me that ye were in Fort Augustus, yet no one knew ye were a lass?”
“Aye. The English are limey bastards and bloody numpties. They don’t know a woman from a man unless one’s undressed.”
The lads sat in stunned silence before breaking out in laughter.
Douglas’s face turned stormy. He didn’t like that the attention was all on her and that she just might be more entertaining than he. “No one escapes Fort Augustus,” he said.
“I did.” She took another sip of ale and looked at him calmly.
“How?”
She tipped her mug to him. “That I will no’ tell ye.”
His look was smug. “Then I do no’ believe ye.”
She shrugged. “I told ye once that I do no’ care if ye believe me or no’.”
Douglas’s jaw worked in agitation. He clearly wanted to poke at her, to get a reaction out of her. Possibly he wanted her to fight him. She would if she had to, but she saw no need. She could outwit Douglas, and that gave her far more satisfaction.
A shadow loomed over her and she turned to discover both Colin and Sutherland behind her. The other lads turned their attention away and looked at everything but the two big warriors. Douglas paled.
“Come, wife,” Colin said, holding out his hand to her. She noted with interest that his hand was steady, though his eyes spoke a different story. He was drunk.
Douglas’s gaze flew to hers, then to Colin’s, and his face paled even more.
Maggie debated what to do. Ignore Colin or go with him? She opted to go with him, knowing she’d pushed far enough this night. She rose, but instead of taking his hand, she headed toward the stairs.
Colin hadn’t followed. He was staring at Douglas with a fixed expression. “Ye call my wife a liar?” he asked quietly.
Maggie stood in anxious paralysis. The room was so silent, she could swear she heard even the mice scurrying away.
Douglas visibly swallowed. “Nae, sir.”
Colin tilted his head and studied Douglas for a tense moment. “I can vouch for her story because I was in prison with her. We escaped together. Do ye have any other questions? Require any other proof?”
Douglas quickly shook his head.
“I did no’ think so.” Colin turned on his heel and passed Maggie to climb the steps. His expression was set, his eyes were cold, and despite the alcohol he’d consumed, his walk was steady.
“Meet me in the lists in the morning,” Sutherland told Douglas.
Maggie followed Colin up the stone steps, amazed that he walked such a straight line and didn’t use the rails as support. Her own head was spinning, and if she leaned to the side a bit, who could fault her? She was a wee bit tipsy.
They reached their bedchamber, where the fire still burned merrily and the bed beckoned. As soon as she shut the door behind her, Colin turned on her. “What the hell were ye doing down there?” he nearly bellowed.
“The same as ye.”
He pointed to the door and sputtered. “Ye…That was…I canno’…”
He may have walked a straight line, but his mind was muddled with drink, and it took everything in Maggie not to laugh.
“That was completely unacceptable,” he finally said.
“Drinking with the men?”
“Aye.” He crossed his arms and nodded as if that were all that was needed to be said on that subject.
Maggie stamped down her rising anger. “Ye were doing it.”
“I’m a man!”
“And I’m a woman.”
“Women do no’ drink.”
She laughed and his nostrils flared. “My wife does no’ drink with the lads. Ye made me look like a fool in front of another chief.”
She stopped laughing. He had a point there. She’d not thought how her actions would reflect on Colin. She’d just been angry that he’d left her to drink with Sutherland on the fourth night of their marriage. Especially when the other three nights had been rife with fear, pain, and thoughts of the bloody English.
“I apologize if I embarrassed ye.”
“Ye did no’ embarrass me.”
She threw her hand out to the side. “Ye’re confusing me. Either I embarrassed ye or I did no’. The point is that ye left me to go drinking. Ye left me, Colin.” She hated the note of sadness that crept into her voice, and she cleared her throat. “And so I found some friends to drink with and talk to.”
He swayed to the side and looked at her with one eye squinted closed. She, too, saw the room spinning; the alcohol that she’d consumed was beginning to take its toll on her.
“Ye missed me?” he asked in surprise.
“I did no’ say that.”
He smirked. “Ye missed me.”
“Nae.”
He frowned, but with one eye closed, it wasn’t a formidable frown. He pointed a wavering finger at her. “In the future, ye do no’ go down to drink with the rest of that lot. That is manly business. No’ womanly business.”
She put her hands on her hips and glared at him. “If ye do no’ know by now, I do no’ put much faith in manly and womanly business.”
He lowered his hand and shook his head. “Faith, Maggie, but I do no’ know what to do with ye.” Suddenly, he looked lost and almost afraid. “I have no room in my life for a wife.”
She swore her heart fell to her stomach. She’d known that he wasn’t precisely pleased with their marriage, but to hear him say it was a blow to her ego and to her heart.
“Then why did ye do it?” she asked softly.
He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, then dropped his hand and laughed softly. “This is no’ the time for such a discussion. We’re both pissing drunk.”
“Why did ye do it?”
“Because I had no choice. Because I ruined yer good name and I embarrassed yer brother. Because I did no’ want Fraser to have ye. He is a bloody bastard and does no’ deserve the likes of ye.”
“But ye did no’ want me.”
The smoldering look he gave her was far from pissing drunk, and it made her stomach flutter.
“Oh, I wanted ye,” he whispered. “I want ye now.”
“Just no’ as a wife.”
He hesitated, then said, “No.”
Her gaze landed on the bed, then quickly slid away to look at the spot on the floor in front of his boots.
He took a step forward. “Hell. Maggie—”
She held up her hand to stop whatever he was going to say. “Nae. I’d rather hear the truth then have us live a lie.”
“I—”
“I’m going to bed.” She stepped behind the privacy screen and changed into Evan’s overlarge shirt, fighting tears that made her angry. She had no right to cry over Colin MacLean. She didn’t want to cry over Colin MacLean. In fact, she want
ed nothing to do with Colin MacLean. Not now and not in the future. Whether they wanted to be wed or not, they were, and their futures were irrevocably tied.
She hesitated after she’d changed, losing her courage. But that was foolishness. Maggie had never once lost her courage, and she wasn’t about to now, especially not to her husband.
She left the safety of the privacy screen. Colin was changing out of his kilt. He paused to look at her, but she refused to look at him. Instead, she climbed into bed, turned on her side, and pulled the blankets around her shoulder.
She listened as Colin walked around the room, blowing out candles and checking that the door was barred, before the bed dipped under his weight. She lay rigid, her body held tight as he settled on his back. Silence as thick as heavy cream settled over them. She could hear him breathe, and she was certain he was listening to her breathe.
He threaded his fingers through hers. She was so surprised that her breath hitched for a moment.
“Ah, Maggie, lass. I’m no’ good at this husband thing. Ye were right. I should no’ have left ye alone tonight, especially in a strange new place.”
Unexpected tears pressed against her eyes. Damn him. Just when she wanted to be angry at him, he said something like this.
She turned on her side to face him, their hands still clutched together. “I’m no’ very good at being a wife. My brain kept telling me no’ to go down to the hall, but sometimes I can no’ help myself. I know that I act impulsively, and it usually gets me into trouble.”
The bed shook slightly with his silent chuckle. “Ye act impulsively? Say it is no’ so.”
She grinned and cushioned her head on her arm. “At times.”
“Like Culloden? Was that impulsive?”
“Oh, aye.” She paused, her thoughts turning serious. “But I canno’ say as I regret that impulsive act, because it brought me to ye.”
Colin drew in a sharp breath. “We are of a kind, aren’ we?”
“Maybe that’s a good thing. We can learn how to be married together.”
“Do ye…” He paused for a long time.
“Do I what?” She squeezed his fingers.
“Nothing.”
MacLean's Passion: A Highland Pride Novel Page 20
