Jocelyn sipped from her cup and urged Marian to do the same. If nothing else, the concoction would warm Marian and bring some color to her pale face.
“You ken the problem with boils, Marian. They grow and grow, causing pain and disease within, until they are lanced and drained. I think there is something inside that needs to be lanced.” Jocelyn sipped from the cup again and then put it down. “I think that you were no whore. I think that you wear that reputation as a disguise in order to hide the sins of others.”
Sliding down to her knees in front of Marian, she took the cup and held Marian’s icy hands in her own. “I think that you did not give birth to Ciara and that her mother died in childbirth,” she said softly.
“Did Duncan tell you that?” Marian gasped.
“Nay, ’twas all a guess on my part after watching you these last months and getting to know you. And if that is something you have told Duncan in confidence, then he will not tell anyone. And I will not share your confidences with anyone, either. Neither him nor even Connor, unless you give me leave to.”
Keeping something from her husband or from Duncan would not be the best thing to do, but Jocelyn could see that Marian’s was a soul that needed to unburden itself of a troubled and haunted past. Duncan thought she might help and he would understand the need for absolute trust if Marian was to speak about anything. Connor was another question completely.
“Was she your friend then?” Jocelyn asked.
Tears streamed down Marian’s cheeks as she nodded. “She was my best friend. Her name was…” Marian hesitated as though unable to speak the name.
“’Tis not important to tell me her name,” she whispered.
“She died giving birth to Ciara. Now she is mine.”
Jocelyn felt the burning of tears in her own eyes and swallowed against the tightness of her throat. “You must thank God every day for the gift you were given, Marian. The child is a blessing and you have raised her well.”
Against the odds, with a humiliating reputation and no help from her family to speak of, this young woman had taken in the child of a dead friend and raised her to be the happy, intelligent and healthy child Ciara was now. “You were there when she was born then?”
“Aye.”
“And I am certain you did all you could to help her?”
“Aye.” Marian closed her eyes then and Jocelyn suspected that the terrible event was even now running through her thoughts once more.
She rubbed Marian’s hands again. “I do not pretend to ken His mind, but ’tis God’s will when one should live and another pass. We can only pray for the living and the dead and for acceptance of His will.”
Jocelyn climbed slowly to her feet and sat down once more in the chair. Her curiosity was roused, but this matter, and Marian herself, needed delicate handling. There would be other opportunities to be curious.
“Would you hear my advice on this, Marian?”
Marian nodded and Jocelyn handed the cup back to her with instructions to finish it. Once she’d swallowed the last mouthful of the brew, Jocelyn smiled.
“First, why not ask Father Micheil to pray a mass for the eternal rest of her soul? I will go with you and you need not mention any of the specifics to him that you do not wish to.”
She tugged the blanket back up on her shoulders then and took a deep breath. “I think you should tell Duncan what you told me. He can help you carry the burdens inside you.”
“You do not understand, Jocelyn. This is not for him to ken. It will make things harder….” She did not finish.
“One of the best things about being married is having another to share the good and the bad with, Marian. Two carrying the same burden lessens its weight on each.” Feeling the resistance in the young woman, she added, “I cannot force you to tell him, but anyone who loves you the way he does…”
Marian’s gaping mouth and shocked expression stopped her from saying another word. “He loves me not,” she began, but Jocelyn interrupted her.
“Anyone with eyes in their head can see the love you share. The way he treats you and the way you look at him. The respect and caring you show each other and your daughter. Is it clear then to everyone in Lairig Dubh except mayhap you?”
“He loves me not,” she repeated.
“But do you love him?” Jocelyn asked quietly. At the stricken expression in her eyes, Jocelyn smiled. “And you think to protect him by keeping the truth from him?”
Marian nodded then, but could not say the words.
“Then you have learned little of these MacLerie men. They would rather have a head-on battle to the death than deal in secrets. Connor learned this the most difficult way of all. Give Duncan the weapons he needs to defeat the phantoms of your past and find a future with him.”
The sound of her husband returning stopped her from saying anything more. “I am here to listen, Marian. Come anytime.”
Connor burst through the door, followed by Jocelyn’s other two children, Duncan and Ailsa who looked none too happy at the number of people in the chamber and her being out of bed.
“They love the name. The children, the clan. God was gracious to us that night,” he said, leaning down to kiss her on the mouth. “Is aught well?”
“This is too soon for ye to be out of bed, lady,” Ailsa began. “And too soon for the wee bairn to be in the chilled air of the hall.”
“I held her close, Ailsa. She is warm enough,” he said, holding out his hand to her.
Jocelyn let him help her from the chair and into bed before she accepted her daughter in her arms. Aidan and Lilidh climbed in next to her to get a better look at their new sibling.
Watching as Marian took Duncan’s hand and let him lead her from the room gave Jocelyn some hope. Love was there almost within their grasp, all they need do is reach for it. As she and Connor had done.
Not certain if the short visit to Jocelyn had done any good, he watched Marian walk down the stairs to the main floor. He had duties to see to, but wanted her settled first. Her quiet invitation back to their chambers gave him hope.
Ciara now spent more time with the other children in the nursery and both Peigi and Glenna watched over her closely. She was there now, giving them the privacy they needed. Closing the door behind them, Duncan waited as Marian sat down on one of the benches along the table, pushing Ciara’s growing menagerie to one side. Duncan sat at her side and waited for whatever she had to say. He took her hand in his, held it and whispered to her.
“Whatever it is, Marian, your words are safe with me.”
“Just over five years ago, I watched my friend die giving birth to Ciara.”
It all came out at once, but it cleared up so many things for him. “And seeing Jocelyn so close to death stirred it up?”
“Aye, Duncan,” she said, now leaning against him. He put his arm around her and held her close. “The words about choosing were almost the same. The pain, the hours, the bleeding—all that was.”
“Do not say that you delivered Ciara?” She was no midwife, and had been just an inexperienced woman of ten-and-eight years or so.
“I was the only one there. He said they would both die without my help, but my friend died anyway.” Her voice was filled with desolation as she described the horrific events to him. “She had only enough strength to save her daughter and she begged me to see her safe.”
“He?” Duncan raised his head and looked at her. “Who told you that?”
She sighed then. “I pray thee, ask no more of me now.”
This was the first time she’d told him anything of her past. And she’d just revealed enough to give him some idea of what had happened at Dunalastair that night.
Or did he?
All he really knew was that Iain and his father, Stout Duncan, were at the center of it, and with her father being dead, only Iain could answer his questions. And that Marian felt some need to keep their secrets even now. Then, Marian yawned and he felt her body sag against his.
“Jocelyn put a sleeping herb
in my cup,” she said.
“And you drank it?” he said. “Mayhap it will help you get some rest?”
“She meant well, Duncan. She told me to tell you the truth. I just cannot tell you all of it.” Her words were slurring and he wondered if this was what he’d been drugged with at the feast.
“Worry not on this now, Marian. Sleep and then we can speak about it,” he said, lifting her to her feet and then carrying her into their bedchamber. “Sleep, love, and I will be back when you wake up.”
He did not bother to undress her, he only slipped off her shoes and pulled the blankets up to cover her. Kissing her forehead, he sat on the bed and waited for her to sink into sleep and then waited to see if it was a restful or fitful one before he left. When her breathing became even and deep, he knew Jocelyn’s potion had worked.
Sliding quietly from her side, he left the door open a slight bit and tidied up from the morning meal she did not touch. Then, he went back to his duties while Marian slept.
None of this made sense to him, but if he let it turn over in his thoughts for a day or two, he would have a clearer idea of what was at work here. In the meanwhile, he would see to Marian’s needs and hoped that sleep would help her recover from this incident.
Much later that morn, Connor summoned him to the solar, the place where he carried out his business since his wife and newborn daughter and several servants and other family members were ensconced in his chambers above stairs. The grim expression that met him warned him that all would not settle quietly as he’d hoped.
Warmth surrounded her and she was loath to find a way out of it. Opening her eyes, she saw that she was in her bed and piled high with all the blankets they had. No wonder she felt warm. Pushing herself back, she leaned against the headboard and looked around the room. Alone, it seemed, for no sounds alerted her to anyone’s presence in the other room, either.
The small blocks of glass in the top of the outside walls revealed enough light that she kenned night had not yet fallen. Pushing back the blankets, she discovered that she slept in her gown and stockings. Sliding her feet over the edge of the bed, she stood and let a moment or two of dizziness pass. The effects of the herbs Jocelyn had added to her drink.
She wondered if sharing her heartbreak with Jocelyn and Duncan helped her put that past behind her or not, but one thing had become very clear in the midst of all the shadows of memories and hopes and dreams. In spite of her efforts to keep herself unmoved by his ways and his basic goodness, she’d fallen in love with her husband.
Jocelyn may have said the words first, but Marian’s heart recognized the truth of it.
Marian loved Duncan.
This was not a good thing, she thought as she fell back on the bed. This muddied the waters of an already-confused and murky path toward a less-than happy-ever-after ending for them.
It changed nothing. At the end of a year, now just nine months hence, she and Ciara would leave here and start a new life. Her heart would break, but that feeling was nothing new to her. ’Twould take some time, but she could get past it and then he and these times together would remain in her memories forever as a respite from the harshness that was her life.
She loved him and she told herself that the best thing she could do for him was to leave and to remove him from all of the trouble she’d caused in his life. He would curse her for it, and then find the wife he wanted.
She loved him and she could rip her still-beating heart out of her chest and it would hurt less than the thought that she had to leave him behind.
For his kindness to her and her daughter. For his attempts to give them a comfortable life while they lived here. For his efforts to give her the caring family that she’d never had. For those reasons and many more, she loved him and because of that she would leave him when the time came.
Sitting up, she rubbed the unexpected tears from her eyes and went off to find out the time and day and to find her daughter and husband. This life with Duncan was destined to end soon enough and the reminder this last week of how fleeting life could be simply made it clear to her that she had to enjoy the days she had left with him.
“Surely this is a jest?” Duncan asked.
“Nay, my lord,” the man said, directing his answers to Connor.
“The Robertson waits for me at the MacCallum’s keep?”
The messenger, who stood cold and dripping in the middle of the solar, shook his head again. “He should be there now, my lord. He was three days behind me and I left there three days ago.”
Duncan walked to stand next to Connor. Leaning down, he spoke so that only Connor could hear his words.
“Could this be a trap?”
“But we are allies now, Duncan. Why a trap? Why now?”
He could think of only one reason why Iain Robertson waited for him at the distant keep—and her name was Marian. He would not even speak her name in front of his man, so he nodded to Murdoch who stood at the ready.
“See to…” Duncan raised his brow and waited for a name.
“Fergus,” the man offered.
“See that Fergus has something to eat and something warm to drink while the laird and I discuss this invitation.”
Once they were alone, Duncan sat in a chair and shrugged. “I have not heard back from the men I sent east. I have expected their return for the last week.”
“I think they have stirred up the past and that the Robertson is calling you to put a halt to it.”
Duncan nodded at that assessment. “I can see a long, cold trek through the winter storms coming for me.”
“Follow the path to the shielings, at least they’ll be some protection for you against the winter nights.”
“Aye,” he said, agreeing with Connor’s plan yet dreading it at the same time.
Even if they made it to the MacCallum’s in three days’ time as Fergus took to get here, it meant at least a sennight away from Marian. And that was if the weather did not take its customary mid-December change for the worst.
Standing, he was already thinking of the preparations he needed to make before he could leave when the loud crash outside the solar reached them. Pulling the door open, he found Fergus lying bloodied on the floor. Marian stood across the room, looking rested but shocked at whatever had happened.
“What happened, Murdoch?”
The steward held up his hands to signify that he knew nothing of what had happened, but the guilty look in his eyes said otherwise. Turning to Gair, Duncan asked again. This time he could intimidate the younger man easier than the old.
“He called her…” Gair glanced in Marian’s direction and then back at the unconscious man on the floor. Duncan understood before he explained the rest. “Weel, ye ken?”
“Aye, Gair. My thanks for defending my wife’s honor, but I need this man whole and ready to ride out in the morning. See to it?”
Connor now stood at his side. Putting a hand on his shoulder, his friend said quietly, “Go to her and put things between you aright. I will see to the lass.”
“Connor, there is no strife between us.” The words sounded as hollow and false as they felt.
“Tell her the truth of your heart before you leave her side.”
“I do not ken the truth of my heart, Connor.”
“Oh, aye you do,” he said with the tone of a man who knew his quite clearly. “Look at her and let your heart speak. Do it now.”
Somehow, his feet moved him forward until he found himself within an arm’s length of her. She stared at him until he reached out and pulled her into his embrace. Sliding his hands up to her head, he freed her hair of its restraining braid and held her face to his. Kissing her over and over, he knew only one thing—he loved this woman and needed to find a way to convince her to stay with him forever.
Chapter Nineteen
He moved like a storm, wrapping his arms around her, tugging her hair loose and possessing her mouth until she stood breathless against him. Instead of running from the onslaught, she held o
n to him and let him have his way. Only the sounds erupting around them broke through the growing haze of passion.
Duncan may not have realized it, but she did and so did the rest of the clan—he had never touched her this way before them. Any physical affection between them had been in the privacy of their chambers and certainly not in the middle of the hall while many of the clan looked on. This was a declaration, a simple and plain one, that everyone could understand.
And one that she would not think on right now.
He released her only to take her by the hand and lead her to their chambers. Closing the door behind them and dropping the bar, he captured her against it and kissed her again. She lost herself in the emotions and the sensations as he pressed his hard body to hers, lifting her so that she pressed against the whole length of him. The feel of his strong legs. The thick hardness that jutted along her belly as he leaned down and took her mouth again. The strength in his arms as he held her still.
He slid a knee between her legs and then higher up into the junction there and she found herself sitting on him. He tugged his belt loose, let his plaid fall to the floor and lifted the edge of his long shirt. The heat of his skin made her gasp, but it was the feel of him sliding his hand along her legs searching for a way under her skirts that made her ache.
Soon, a determined Duncan found the edge and inched his hand up along her thighs until he touched the wetness there within the curls. She leaned her head back and sighed her pleasure. He pushed her skirts out of his way, spread her legs and urged her to wrap them around his waist, which she did, opening her up to his invasion. With one thrust he filled her completely.
Then the storm stopped and he stood with her pinned to the door and stared at her as though seeing her for the first time. He kissed her gently, so softly that it made her feel like something precious and it brought tears to her eyes. He lifted her into his arms even while staying deep within her and walked them into their bedchamber. There, he climbed onto the bed, laid her down and brought her such exquisite pleasure that she cried as she felt her release.
Possessed by the Highlander Page 20
