Some Like it Plaid

by Angela Quarles

  …

  Through a fuzzy haze, Connall became aware of muted thunks and a softly whispered curse. The curse, he was gratified to hear, was in his wife’s voice.

  I am home.

  Contentment seeped through him until he remembered the battle. He startled awake.

  How had he gotten here?

  As he blinked the room into focus, which was awash in a late afternoon sun, snatches of memory surfaced. The battle. Domnall grimly touching the hot brand of an iron to close his wound, the uncomfortable journey back on their boat as he shivered with fever and was flushed with sweat despite the chilly air.

  And then being too weak to walk for their homecoming and being propped up onto a waiting horse.

  How humiliating.

  And that was how his wife had seen him return. How everyone had seen him.

  Another curse sounded behind him, and then a feminine gasp. His wife’s lovely face swung into view, her forehead marred with creases of concern.

  “You’re awake.” She collapsed onto the edge of the bed by his hip and placed her head in her hands. Her hair, not done up in a braid as usual, cascaded forward, hiding her face.

  Her shoulders convulsed, and a choking sound emerged from behind her hair.

  He frowned. Not quite the homecoming he’d expected.

  “Are you…are you crying?”

  Her head whipped up, revealing a splotchy-pink face with tears trickling down her cheeks. Her eyes flared. “Yes, I’m crying,” she said with angry heat.

  “You’re crying because…I awakened?”

  She swatted his side, and he winced. She then immediately patted the area. “Oh my God, what’s wrong with me? I’m so sorry.” Her eyes locked with his. “And yes. Because I didn’t think you ever would, you bastard. Do you know how long you’ve been lying on that bed, completely insensible?”

  He shook his head.

  “Four days. Four days and four nights you were burning up with a fever, and I was at my wits end trying to figure out how to heal you in this damn time period, and my divining power is lessening, and I’m smelly and you’re smelly and I’m hungry and you’re probably starving and everyone’s worried about you and they keep coming in and asking if they can help and I have to tell them I don’t know what the hell I’m doing and I keep dropping things and I… I…” Her eyes grew round, and her mouth closed.

  “I missed you, too,” he rumbled.

  But she didn’t smile, her eyes only going rounder. “Don’t you smile at me. Do you know how close you came to dying, mister? And I almost couldn’t save you?”

  “Would that have upset you?”

  She smacked her thighs with her fists, and he winced in sympathy for her abused thighs. “Of course it would have upset me.”

  Wishing to comfort her, for she was obviously distressed, he tried to gather her close, but his heavy arms fell back against the bed. By the ancestors, he was in a weakened state. “Come here.”

  “I smell,” she said.

  “Well, apparently so do I, so we’re no worse for each other. Come here.”

  She flew so fast against his chest he gasped. And though it took great effort, he managed to bring his arms up to cradle her against his side. She was so upset, she didn’t realize she was lying right across his wound, but he didn’t care—an immediate sense of relief, of peace, of rightness swamped him when he held her against him again.

  He swallowed hard, his throat parched as if someone had set up a bonfire inside and dried him out.

  But one thought overrode everything—she cared.

  And while that should have made his heart soar in triumph, instead he felt his chest tighten. By the ancestors, he’d caused her much anguish. For the first time, an insidious thought struck him—was it fair to put someone through this kind of life? His world was more dangerous than hers.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Several days later, Connall pushed open the keep’s door and strode into the courtyard. Earlier that morning had been the first time he’d been able to leave his hearth and the exercise was welcome. He’d grown weak from his bout with fever, and he needed to return to fighting form. His tribe depended on him. For the first task, he’d trekked down to Achnabreck and gathered some dirt from the sacred site. He’d then mixed it in with Ashley’s dirt, hoping it would aid her divining, for she’d been anxious that her gift was disappearing.

  Now, he’d finished having an audience with his father and the council. Irritation stiffened his gait—Ashley had demanded an audience of them during his absence. While the council hadn’t decided on whether to grant their request, he was shocked to discover the older members of the council were arguing in its favor.

  As her husband, he decided whether an issue of hers should be aired with the council. He stomped across the well-worn path. As soon as he could find her, he’d have a talk with her. But first, he wished to visit the progress on the new signal tower.

  Before his steps could bring him fully across the sandy courtyard, his wife emerged from the kitchen, her arms holding an empty barrel.

  When her eyes clashed with his, she set her burden down and marched right over to him.

  He opened his mouth to chastise her for going to the council when she said, “What are you doing out of the hut? You should still be in bed. And I heard you’re planning to ride out to the signal tower?”

  Several villagers and some of his men who’d been strolling by stopped. The weight of their stares settled on him.

  “I’m well enough,” he ground out.

  She placed a hand to her hip and pointed to their hearth downslope. “You need to return to bed and finish healing. Do you want to get reinfected? Or open your wound? You’re not out of the woods yet.”

  Her speech was peppered with unfamiliar words in her tongue, but he understood her tone well enough. While he’d been pleased at her fussing over him ever since his fever had broken, this was rather embarrassing to do so publicly. Grins sprouted on the faces of some of the villagers and warriors. He took a deep breath. Be calm—it only means she cares. And that pleased him.

  “And it’s definitely too soon for you to venture to the signal tower.”

  This was quite enough. And coupled with what he’d just learned, it was clear she needed a reminder of who was in charge. He’d found her strength of mind invigorating before, but that was in the privacy of their hearth. He could not afford to have her undermining his authority with his tribe.

  To lead them well, he needed their respect.

  He had to put a stop to this.

  “I know full well what I’m capable of doing. You’re not to question me.”

  Her eyes flared, and she opened her mouth. Then she looked around at their growing audience, and he was gratified to see she closed her mouth again. But if the set of her shoulders and the fire in her eyes told him anything, he’d hear about this later around their hearth fire.

  …

  When Connall entered their hut that night, Ashley set down the new batch of healing paste, trying not to let the crockery bang. He shook out his mantle and hung it on a hook by the door, then glanced over his shoulder. By the set of his jaw he knew she was about to let loose on him.

  Which made her even angrier.

  “You said you’d treat me as an equal,” she stated as calmly as she could.

  He cocked his head, his forehead wrinkled by a frown. He stepped farther into the room.

  “Before you left to fight for the Romans, I told you that I can’t be your wife if you don’t treat me as an equal.”

  “I do treat you as an equal. More than equal, in fact.”

  She gestured toward the door. “What you did out in the courtyard was not treating me as an equal.”

  “How did that have anything to do with it?”

  He honestly seemed puzzled. She rounded the trestl
e table and sat down on the bench, crossing her legs and arms. “What does being equal mean to you? When I asked that of you, what did you take it to mean?”

  “Treat you the same as I treat others. However, I treat you as more than their equal. You are my wife.”

  She closed her eyes and blew out a breath. “I meant, equal to you.”

  He crossed his own arms. “But you’re not. I’m the chief’s son.”

  Okay, a different approach, then, because obviously this was a foreign concept. “Why did you reprimand me in front of everyone?”

  He took a step forward. “You questioned my judgment in front of the others. I cannot abide that.”

  “Why not?”

  He looked up at the ceiling as if trying not to lose his temper with her. He lowered his chin. “I’ll allow that your people have different ways of doing things, so I’ll explain.”

  So. Mansplaining was a thing here, too. Great.

  “By all means. Go ahead.”

  He didn’t recognize her sarcasm. “I’m most likely going to be their future chief.”

  “Most likely? Aren’t you the oldest son?”

  “That doesn’t signify. It does place me in a better position to be given the responsibility.”

  “How are chiefs chosen, then?”

  “They’re elected by the council and approved by the druids.”

  “So why does it matter that I appeared to question your judgment in front of others?”

  “I need to be able to lead them effectively, and I can’t do so if I don’t have their respect.”

  She made her hands into fists and clamped her folded arms tighter against her chest. “Giving an opinion doesn’t mean it’s taking away your respect.”

  He shook his head. “That’s not how they’ll see it. With the raid taking a good portion of our women, the tribe is too vulnerable in these dangerous times. We need a strong, capable leader to replace my father when the time comes. Which, I hope, is not soon.”

  “But we can be stronger if we work together as a team.”

  “That’s not how it works here, Ashley. I’m needing their respect, and I’ll not be having it if my wife is undermining me. It’s as simple as that.”

  God, and here she’d been toying with the idea of staying. Maybe this place was just not right for a modern woman.

  Square peg, meet round hole.

  Her throat swelled as fresh emotion swamped her—pain joining her anger and frustration. Shit, she’d somehow allowed herself to fall for this man.

  He must have misinterpreted her silence, because he said, “I’m glad you understand. This is also why you shouldn’t have gone behind my back and addressed the council.”

  “What? You didn’t keep your word when you said you’d take care of it.”

  He shook his head. “No. I considered it and decided that everything is working fine as it is.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I didn’t think it was necessary.”

  She put her elbow on her knee and dropped her forehead into her palm. She massaged it and let out a frustrated growl. “I can’t do this.” Resigned, she looked back up at him. As he continued to stare at her in puzzlement, she took a deep breath. “Listen. I can’t be in a relationship with someone who doesn’t let me have a voice. I did that once and have been paying for it ever since.”

  “Once?”

  “Yes. Once.”

  He strode over and sat beside her on the bench, his body turned slightly toward her. “What happened?”

  “My ex-husband.”

  His brows raised at that. “Oh yes, I remember you mentioning that. We have precedence for that here as well. What happened?”

  “I let him control everything.”

  He nodded. “So you understand, then. Your times are not different from mine.”

  She tossed her hands in the air. “Actually, they are. Some men are still like that.” Dinosaurs. “But I was an idiot. I married a guy I trusted because he had a high-paying, high-powered job and he, well, seemed like a grown-up. I was head over heels in love with him and wanted to prove to my family I was an adult.

  “All I proved was that I hadn’t actually grown up. I was the youngest of my friends to marry. We had a huge fairy-tale wedding, which meant we also had a lot of excess gifts from the registry. All the formal stuff. So we cashed all that in and combined it with some money we also received and formed a nest egg. We hadn’t decided what we were going to use it for yet—either our dream home or for our future kids’ tuition.”

  Man, she’d been so stupid. Her ex was ambitious, and she saw it as a virtue for being a good provider, believed the best of him. Excused his distance as him being overworked.

  “I don’t understand what most of that means, I confess. What in there is wrong in your eyes?”

  She stood up and faced him. “I’m just getting warmed up. He insisted on being the one to manage our finances, and I didn’t have a head for it. He was an investment banker. Anyway, turns out he was a crook. I woke up one day to find out he was a scam artist, he owed some scary people money, and had taken our nest egg to make some shady investments.”

  And because she’d let him control all the finances, she didn’t realize until it was too late.

  “Ashley. You’re using words and concepts I have no idea of their meaning.”

  She stepped in front of him and crossed her arms. “Here it is, plain and simple. I trusted him to do what was right for me—for us, as a couple and family. And he betrayed that trust. It placed me in a very vulnerable position, and I vowed to never let a man control my life like that again.”

  She closed her eyes and opened them. Be strong. “Which brings me to you. You disrespected me by deciding things were fine without even a discussion first. You can’t just do that. If I’m to be your wife, you cannot assume you know what’s best for me. If you do, I’ll be leaving, one way or another.”

  Connall stood, a flash of fear and anger in his gaze, quickly masked. “You don’t trust me?”

  “Not with you knowing what I need. But it’s not an insult for me to want to control my own life. If we’re to be together, you need to understand that.” Why oh why did she seem to fall for guys who didn’t? Maybe all men were controlling d-bags.

  He stared at her a moment longer, then calmly scooped up a fresh shirt and went behind their “bathroom” screen to clean. But as she looked at his retreating back, she couldn’t help a flare of hope that he’d be different. Somehow. That with time, he’d get it.

  Late the next afternoon, Ashley worked with Eithne and the others to unpack the food they’d hauled up to the first signal tower with their horses. It was a feast, because the whole tribe was ready to celebrate. She lugged a basket filled with bread and set it down next to the other baskets. She straightened and flexed her fingers, looking up at the signal tower. Though she wanted to feel excited, she just felt…flat.

  Just pack her up and send her off on the big-fucking-deal train.

  A sour taste from last night still coated her tongue, and she and Connall had gone to bed in separate places—her on the bed, and him on the old pallet on the floor. And she’d barely slept. Now, the whole tribe was gathered at the base because, with Connall on the mend, they’d decided to head here and pitch in as a unit.

  And now it was done.

  Several folks were already sitting on rocks nearby, their fingers picking a lively tune on some very strange-looking instruments. Some of the older women began dancing, their faces splitting into huge grins.

  Everyone was happy. Happy to have finished their first of many signal towers, which would go a long way to protecting the tribe. And it had been Ashley’s idea. And it had felt good to do that for them. Made her feel a part of them—part of The Horse People.

  But all through the day, as they put the last touc
hes on the signal tower, Connall behaved as if their argument had settled matters. The whole situation underscored how different their worlds were, and whenever she’d asserted her will today, he’d given her a glare. As if she’d forgotten and he was reminding her.

  And as he strolled alongside one of his brothers, nodding gravely to something he was telling him, she realized he would never understand. And she couldn’t live with someone like that.

  Later that evening, as they all sat around a bonfire, Connall approached. She held herself stiffly, unwilling to show him any weakness.

  He crossed his arms and widened his stance. “Ashley, we need to talk.”

  She looked up at him. “All right. What is it you’d like to say?”

  “I don’t think I was clear enough last night, and for that I apologize. In public, you will need to acquiesce to me.”

  She arched a brow and brought up her chin. How dare he. “Oh. You were clear. And no, I won’t.”

  With that, whatever little hope she’d held that they’d understand each other sputtered and died.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Horns tooted a festive tune the next day as everyone in Dunadd lined the path to see off the first party of warriors to man the new signal tower. Some looked pale from imbibing too much last night.

  Connall folded his arms and ground his teeth. Relations with his wife had not returned to normal. But he could not afford to relent on this—she must understand that it was for the good of the tribe. Too much was at stake.

  Especially when that Roman arcani visited them again, this time to warn that the Damnonii, a tribe to the south, were raiding for slaves. He was grateful that their new alliance with the Romans was already fruitful; the tower had been finished just in time.

  Beside him, Ashley stood stiff and unrelenting, and Connall sighed.

  She’d learn soon enough.

  As soon as the warriors reached the level ground and galloped off to their new assignment, he cupped his hands to his mouth. “Meet at the courtyard, for we have news everyone is needing to hear.”