Moonstone

by Olivia Stocum

  She’d never told him that before. “What happened?”

  “I was worried about my parents. I had warned my father about Reginald and Geoffrey, and he said not to worry, but I did anyway.”

  “And you . . . went to check on them?”

  She nodded. “In the middle of the night. That’s when Geoffrey found me. He’d solicited me after supper, and I told him no.” She finally looked at him, her eyes hard. “He did not take no for an answer.”

  William stood, going to her, but she put out her hand to stop him. “I need to think.”

  He looked at the bed they shared. She sighed. “I’m not leaving the chamber. I just don’t want to be held tonight.”

  Holding was all they had. And words, but as she turned silently away from him and crawled into her side of the bed, he knew they’d exhausted both avenues.

  He undressed, thinking about the amethyst in his pouch. Ronan said women became emotional about rings.

  William could only hope the amethyst produced positive emotions in Rhiannon.

  * * *

  Rhiannon lifted Heather into her arms. She wasn’t exactly comfortable spending her time with Triona in her solar, but there was little else for her to do. William and Ronan were in the lists, and probably would be until they broke for their noon meal. Alice was with Connor.

  Winter had come in full force, and it was too cold for a walk outside. Her life now consisted of strolling the corridors, helping Triona with the children, and taking dictation for her husband in the afternoons.

  It wasn’t enough.

  Rhiannon sighed and rubbed Heather’s back. The baby wiggled and Rhiannon repositioned her so that she could see Rhiannon’s face. Heather lifted her hand, touching Rhiannon’s mouth. Rhiannon kissed her little fingers.

  “She’s being fussy today,” Triona said from where she sat on the floor with her other two children. “They all are.”

  The prevailing atmosphere of the hall was dismal. The nights took up the days, leaving them with only a few hours of light, and even then, the clouds touched the ground and one could hardly see past their own hand. If Rhiannon had had any romantic notions about a world of white and roaring fires, then they had vanished. Just like the sun and green living things.

  Rhiannon tried to peer out the window. The glass was frosted over and she scraped away a circle with her fingernails, looking into the frozen courtyard. Fires burned down in the village, dotting the grounds.

  She turned away from the window.

  Triona put Douglas down next to his brother and rose to her feet. “Do you want to talk about what is wrong with you?”

  Of course, Triona would have to notice. “Nothing.” Rhiannon faked a smile. How could she even begin? She was far from home, immersed in a black winter. Alice was preoccupied—with good reason—and the only other female friend she had was also her husband’s first love. Rhiannon took a deep breath and willed herself not to cry. Heather stuck her fingers into Rhiannon’s mouth and scraped sharp nails over her scarred lip.

  Triona took the baby away and placed her in a cradle in the next room, then came back to Rhiannon. “Sit with me.”

  Numb, Rhiannon sat on a bench.

  “You can tell me anything. We are family.”

  Wait until Triona heard what was really on her mind. Could she tell her? Should she? She shouldn’t.

  But she would.

  “Did you love my husband?”

  Triona jerked, her eyes widening. Heather cried from the next room. “I better go see to her.”

  “Aye, go on then.” After Triona left, Rhiannon buried her face in her hands, trying to control her emotions. Please do not cry. You can cry later. Go cry in front of your husband. It is all you’re good for, after all.

  Triona returned, leaving the door between the rooms open a crack. Her shoulders rose and fell in a sigh, then she sat down on the bench next to Rhiannon. “He told you.”

  “I told him.”

  “Well then.” Triona’s eyes tightened. “I was never in love with him.”

  “What is the difference?”

  “I am in love with Ronan, even though I love William. It took me some time to decipher the difference.” She paused. “I will admit William is a verra handsome man.”

  Rhiannon eyed her.

  Triona leaned forward with her elbows on her knees. “He has been alone for far too long. Ever since his parents died, there has been something missing in him. He tries so hard to pretend there is not, but I know. It hasn’t been good for him, either.”

  “William was still in love with you when he met me.”

  “I didna know. Aye, I suppose I did.” She closed her eyes, then looked at Rhiannon again. “I am sorry.”

  “Did you do anything to perpetuate it?”

  “I dinna think so. But there was a time, before I married Ronan, when I did. There are many things I would have done differently. Give yourself some time. Give William some time too. You will work through everything. Well, perhaps not everything. Ronan and I certainly haven’t, but you will survive this.”

  “That is yet to remain seen.”

  “Do you think you can start by forgiving me?”

  It wasn’t Triona’s fault that she was an attractive, kind, healthy . . . lusty, and practically perfect woman.

  “I will try,” Rhiannon muttered.

  “I’d like it if you could, because you’re more than good for my cousin.” Triona smiled. “You are good for me. I have spent the majority of my life with Ronan and William. It is hard being the only lady. Every woman here save you is beneath me in station. They all see me as their leader more than their friend. It is especially hard during the winter, when I have so few guests. Truth be told, I wish you and William would never go home.”

  Rhiannon hadn’t considered that. Where she was from, the neighboring estates were closer, and the winters shorter. “Perhaps we should winter here each year. It would be good for William too.”

  Triona grinned. “I would like that.”

  Chapter Twenty

  William walked to one end of the hearth in the great hall, ran his hands through his hair, then turned on his heel and walked back again.

  Ronan’s booted foot slipped off the stool he’d propped it on, the thud echoing. “You could wait until we have a warm spell.”

  William stopped, glared at Ronan, then continued to pace. “’Tis too cold to take her outside, yet the garden is the only place I can think of.”

  “Did you ask Triona? The two of them seem to be getting along again.”

  “Nay. I should have, but I didna.” He frowned. “And it isna a matter of whether they’re getting along or not. Rhiannon is jealous.”

  “Of?”

  “Triona was never abused,” William supplied.

  “Och . . . aye.”

  William plopped down in the chair next to Ronan. “They talk about us, you know.”

  Ronan nodded. “’Tis nice to know they think about us. And they should. We are worth talking about.”

  “It’s not all good.”

  “I only spent three nights in the nursery before she took me back.”

  William opened his mouth, then closed it. There was no point in continuing that line of thought. He changed the conversation back to the original subject. “I should give her the ring sooner than later. I think it will help. It might help . . . I never know what to do with her.”

  “You get used to it after awhile, not knowing anything. Just wait until your children come, then you will know how daft you really are.”

  Children? Someday. But they would not be conceived around Rhiannon’s pain. He couldn’t take that. She had asked him to try again last night, but he couldn’t, and it served to make her even more frustrated. She wouldn’t be happy until she’d overcome this obstacle, and his unwillingness to help her wasn’t settling well.

  William leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, fingers laced. “Maybe it will be warmer tomorrow.”

  “Or nex
t month.”

  He shook his head. “It canna wait that long. I have to do something.”

  Ronan laughed.

  “’Tis no jest.”

  “Aye, I know.” Ronan shifted in his chair. “Just take her to the garden. It willna hurt her. She’s a hardy lass, is she not?”

  A draft blew down the chimney, forcing an earthy gust of peat smoke over them. “She has been cooped up inside for almost a se’nnight now.” William stood. “Enough of this. I am going to propose to my wife.”

  Ronan took up a mug and lifted it in a toast. “I wish you all the best, my friend.” He took a drink. “Let’s hope she says aye.”

  William shook his head and left the dining hall, not stopping until he found himself before his chamber door, still wondering how to proceed. Taking a deep breath, he opened it. Rhiannon and Alice were on the window seat together, bent over a swath of dark green wool.

  They both looked up, reminding him of their game of cat-and-mouse in the forest outside Geoffrey’s keep. Only this time Rhiannon wasn’t bloody and broken. At least not on the outside.

  Alice stood, then folded up the fabric.

  “Good day to you, my laird,” she said, her tone clipped. She curtsied and left the room, closing the door behind her.

  He looked at Rhiannon, who turned her cheek to him, and knew they had been talking about him.

  “We were working on Alice’s wedding gown,” Rhiannon said.

  “Did you want me to leave?”

  Rhiannon put her needle and floss into a basket and closed the lid. She was wearing an apricot gown with pale blue trim. Her skirts fanned around her long legs, accentuating her narrow waist.

  “Put on your cloak and come outside with me,” he said.

  “Are you sure?” She gestured toward the window. “You told me that when the frost coats the windows I am not allowed outside.” Her brows arched.

  “I know what I told you.” Had he told her that? What kind of idiot was he? “Just please do it anyway.”

  She took up her cloak and donned it. “Where are we going?”

  “To the garden.”

  “Why?”

  “You will see.”

  She pressed her lips into a thin, irritated line. Then her mouth parted and she chewed her scarred lip.

  He took her hand, glad she didn’t try to pull away. They walked the corridor and descended the stairs down into the garden, her fingers still in his, her breath pluming on the air. William walked her through frozen vegetation, the ground crunching underfoot.

  “’Tis so beautiful,” she said. “Like diamonds. Why do you not let me out?”

  “Because I am a demanding, overprotective boar.”

  “I already knew that.”

  He tugged her closer. When he didn’t meet any resistance, he tucked his arm around her waist. “Because I dinna want anything to happen to you.”

  “Like it did to your parents?”

  He frowned at her rosy cheeks. “Maybe. What made you think of that?”

  “Triona.”

  “I almost lost you as well. And had I not already told you that?”

  “Maybe I needed to hear it again.”

  His gaze moved to her lips, and it became difficult to think straight. He heard her still talking, but he didn’t understand a single word.

  “You could be flattered, you know,” she said.

  “I am . . . flattered.”

  “You are . . . something.” She sighed. “Just kiss me. I know you want to. I know you want more.”

  Had she lowered her voice on purpose? The throaty inflection made him draw her closer into him. He ran the pad of his thumb over the pulse at the side of her neck. Then he lowered his face and kissed her. He was getting ahead of himself though. He really should give her the ring first.

  William pulled back, Rhiannon’s eyes still closed, her chin tipped up. He touched the back of her head and her eyelids fluttered opened.

  “Was that all?” she said. “You can do more?”

  She tempted him beyond reason, but he couldn’t. He just couldn’t hurt her like that.

  “I have to ask you something,” he said.

  “What?”

  William realized she would see the ring when he took it out of his pouch, and he didn’t want her to until the right moment. “Hold on.” He turned his back on her.

  “What are you doing?”

  He took out the ring, praying he didn’t do something stupid, like drop it in the snow. The amethyst sparkled, even in the gray light. William closed his palm around it until it pressed into his calloused skin. Then he turned to face Rhiannon. He bent down on one knee and held the ring out to her. “I know we’re doing this backwards, but will you marry me, Lady Rhiannon?”

  Her mouth dropped open, then her eyes widened. The innocence in her expression caught him off guard, reminding him of how much had been stolen from her. It probably took Geoffrey all of minutes to have his full, but it changed her life forever.

  Rhiannon reached out, touching the ring as if she expected it to disappear, then her gaze flicked to his. “Aye, of course.”

  He grinned and took her hand, easing the ring onto her finger. It was too tight. “Blast.”

  She laughed, sniffing back tears. “Try another finger.”

  “But ’tis supposed to be on this one. I asked Ronan.”

  Rhiannon grabbed his sleeve, tugging until he stood. She held out her hand. “Just put it on another finger.”

  He moved it to her little finger. “I will have it altered to fit you.”

  “I am certain you will, but not yet. I want to keep it for now.”

  “But . . .”

  She leaned up on her toes. “MacAlastair, if you say one more word, I shall have to challenge you to a duel.”

  He drew her against him, then tucked his fingers into her hair at the back of her head, and kissed her.

  “Take me to bed,” she said against his mouth. “Now.”

  He closed his eyes against her. “Rhiannon.”

  She pressed into him. “We can’t wait forever. Touch me. I like it when you touch me. I like the way your skin feels.”

  “I need to jump in the loch.” He tucked her cheek against his neck. “I canna hurt you again, not like that.”

  She was brave. He wasn’t.

  She pulled away, and he caught her hand, lacing fingers with her as they walked in silence. Sparrows twittered over seeds on dried flowers. Rhiannon twirled the ring on her finger with her thumb and frowned. He could feel her frustration as if it were tangibly radiating through her, and into his arm.

  Her frustration.

  His frustration.

  It was all the same anyway.

  Her nose was beginning to run by the time he took her inside and back to their chamber. William unclasped her cloak and hung it up, then went to the hearth. Thanks to Alice, there was wine already mulling in an iron kettle. He ladled out a mug for Rhiannon, and one for himself. Rhiannon took hers to the window seat, cradling it in her hands and blowing at it as it steamed. Her eyes were distant.

  “Any news of my brother?” she asked.

  “Not as of yet.”

  “I suppose it will take some time.”

  “It is winter.”

  “Aye, perhaps in the spring.”

  William leaned back against the table and watched her from over the rim of his mug. Her eyes flicked to his face, then away. She smoothed her hand over her skirt. “I was hoping, I mean Alice and I . . .” She took a breath. “Since Alice wished to be wed as soon as her gown is ready, and there are no priests to be had right now, we were hoping you would give her to Connor.”

  He’d resided over marriages before. “Aye, of course.”

  “Thank you. I shall tell Alice.”

  Their behavior was all very domestic, yet lacking any real feeling. And he wasn’t sure he liked it that way. “How long before the gown is ready?”

  “Not for another fortnight, at least.” Rhiannon stood and set
her cup aside. She turned to face him. “This is ridiculous.”

  He blew out a breath and nodded. “Aye, I know.”

  “Just go, find Ronan, or Connor, and do whatever you men do when you think we are busy with our needles.”

  “Rhiannon . . .”

  “I mean it. I will see you at supper.” She screwed up her face. “And then the torture can begin anew.”

  * * *

  Rhiannon sat on the wooden bench near the training field, soaking yellow light into her face. She hadn’t seen the sun in weeks.

  “Enjoy it while it lasts,” Triona said. “It will get cold again soon.” She glanced at her son. “Brian you get yourself back here. Nay, get off the field.”

  Brian pointed to where Ronan was training with the other men.

  “Your father will fetch you for your lesson soon.” Triona sighed. “I hope.” She rubbed her forehead.

  “Are you all right?” Rhiannon asked. “You look tired.”

  She lowered her hand to her side. “We were up most of the night with Heather. Annie’s mother is unwell, so I let her go home. I really should have another girl take her place until she can return.”

  “I can help.”

  “You already help enough. I couldna ask you to sit up nights.”

  It wasn’t as if there was anything else for her to do at night. Except sleep. “I do not mind.”

  “Well I do.”

  Rhiannon scanned the field and found William sparring with a blonde giant of a man, his hair tied off with braids. She made out the flash of tattooed arms as he moved. “Who is that with William?”

  Triona looked up, then laughed. “That is Graham. He was away visiting his niece and has just returned. Dinna let him scare you. He is naught but a kitten.”

  “What kind of kitten?”

  “A harmless one.”

  “I will take your word on that.” Rhiannon leaned back and closed her eyes. The sun made the inside of her eyelids turn red.

  “Brian, come back here.” Triona sighed. “I am taking him back inside. It looks as if his father cannot be bothered to teach him today.” She paused. “William is coming for you, anyway.”