Highland Moonlight (10 page)

Alexander studied the village nestled within the narrow valley between

the loch and the shoulder of the mountains. The small gathering of stone

buildings looked well kept, the yards clean and tended.

Before he and Mary reached the first house, several people came out

of their huts.

An ancient woman with a profound limp appeared from the entrance of

a small stone cottage. “Have you brought your bride to meet us, Alexander?”

“Aye, Maggie. There’ll be a feast to celebrate our marriage before Mary

and I take our leave. You must promise me a dance.”

The old woman leaned heavily upon a walking stick as she hobbled

up the path to the road. Her hair, nearly all white, brushed her bent

shoulders. He moved to embrace her with tender care, for she appeared

more fragile than the last time he had visited.

“The only lass you should be thinking of dancing with is the one you

have wed, Alexander.” She shook her finger at him.

He laughed. “Mary this is my grandmother, Maggie,” he said by way of

introduction as he stepped back.

Her astonishment momentarily evident, she moved forward to greet

the woman with a curtsy. “‘Tis an honor to meet you.” She grasped his

grandmother’s hands in her own.

He watched the eager way his grandmother studied her features.

“‘Tisa beauty you have wed, Alexander.”

He smiled. “Aye, she is.”

“You shall have many handsome children together.”

Mary’s cheeks grew red and she avoided his gaze.

He gave a brief nod. “God willing.”

“Mary Campbell, ‘tis glad I am you have come to us. I wish you great

happiness with my grandson.”

“Thank you, grandmother. I do not think I will mind greatly Alexander

dancing with you.”

Maggie chuckled. “You mayna feel the same about some of the

younger women who have hoped to have him these past years.”

“What is in the past, is past. ‘Tis what comes from now into the future

that is important.”

Alexander searched Mary’s features, seeking a message in those

words for himself, but she did not look his way.

Several people approached to be introduced and to offer small gifts to

honor the marriage. Mary exclaimed over each, then placed the tokens in

his arms to carry so she could greet each person in turn. He smiled as his

grandmother introduced her to several villagers as her new grand daughter.

He found it pleasing they should take to one another so easily.

An hour passed. He noticed Mary shivered beneath the meager

covering of the wool tartan. “We must go, Mary. You may return to visit again

tomorrow if you wish.”

Mary embraced Maggie and murmured a word of thanks. She reached

to take some of the gifts from Alexander to help him carry them.

“Leave them, lass, I can carry them. You must hold my arm lest you trip

along the way.”

Calls of farewell followed them down the slope to ground that was

more level. He harbored a feeling of pleasure when she continued to hold

his arm for she rarely touched him voluntarily.

“How old would your grandmother be, Alexander?”

“Three score and ten at least. She will not tell anyone for certes.”

Her soft laughter trickled forth. The first time he had heard her laugh

since her sister’s betrothal. Alexander relished the sound.

“‘Twas very cordial of them all to be so generous,” she said.

“Aye, I did not doubt they would accept you, Mary.”

“Your father wishes me to take an oath of fealty to him after we have

known one another longer.”

Unsurprised, he inclined his head. “Was it that you were talking about

earlier this morn?”

“Aye.”

“‘Twould seal the bonds between you and my family.” And perhaps

make it more difficult for her to walk away from his clan once the bairn was

born.

“Would not a grandchild do as well?”

“Aye, but the other will allow my father, as Chief, to act on your behalf in

other matters, should the need ever arise.”

“I have thought of that.” She drew a deep breath. “I will not do it for that

alone, Alexander. ‘Twill have to come from the heart or it shan’t mean what it

should.”

Her words had his gaze focusing on her face. Would he ever be able

to inspire such consideration from her.

She made certain his clothing stayed mended and clean. She saw the

water for his baths warmed and that he wanted for nothing at meals, but

she did not approach him for anything for herself.

Her need for clothing was becoming an embarrassment, yet she did

not ask him for the coin to purchase the cloth with which to make new

garments. They spoke about his family, but she offered him nothing about

hers. He knew not how to reach beyond the barrier of her hurt pride and

relentless distrust.

****

Alexander opened a door and led her into a large room furnished only with a

long table surrounded by chairs. A fire crackled and popped within the great

stone fireplace. He guided her close to the blaze to get warm.

“Will your father not mind that we are here?”

“Nay.” He shook his head and laid the gifts in a chair. “To have a

moment alone with you between waking and sleep has grown difficult. ‘Tis

partly his fault I must resort to hiding away with you if only to have an

uninterrupted conversation.”

His complaint was legitimate. It seemed to Mary that John Campbell

meant to keep them apart. For the past fortnight, he had sent Alexander and

his brothers hunting or fishing every morning and had kept them late every

evening drinking and gaming with his men.

“I’ll be going to net salmon early on the morrow with Duncan and

David.” A frown worked its way across his brow as he stood beside her

before the fire, his hands folded behind him.

“‘Twill be a fine dish to serve at the feast.”

“Aye.” His tone held no enthusiasm.

She focused on the rugged planes of her husband’s face as he stared

into the fire. Lines about his mouth were more deeply etched than before

and he had grown thinner in the past fortnight. They were man and wife,

joined in marriage, but so very far apart. She found the thought of spending

the rest of her days bound to him in such a cold empty union unbearable.

Yet, even if he professed his love on bended knee, would she be able to

believe him?

“Alexander—,” she began in a tentative tone, uncertain of what to say to

lessen the distance between them.

His gaze leaped to her face.

The door behind them opened to admit the Laird of the Campbell clan,

his expression grave. “The patrol I sent out earlier has discovered a

slaughtered ewe along the loch. There are signs someone has been

camping there. Duncan and David will be seeing to it. Will you be going with

them?”

Alexander nodded then turned to Mary. “When I return, we will continue

our conversation.”

Mayhap by then she would know what she wished to say to him.

She reached for the tartan shawl as he left.

“‘Tis sorry I am your time together had to be cut short, Mary,” John said.

His eyes so similar to his son’s probed her face.

“Clan property must be defended and recovered.”

“Alexander, more than the others, has always had a deep rooted

sense of what was expected of him. I was more zealous in my discipline

and training with him.”

She smoothed the material of the tartan over her arm.

“Mayhap I am partially at fault for his actions, lass.”

Her eyes swung to his face.

“If you are to leave the past in the past, you must speak of it to one

another. ‘Twill take some of the sting from the wound.”

She found it hard to speak to the back of Alexander’s head. “There has

been little time of late.” Her gaze drifted away from him.

“You are his wife. ‘Tis your right to make demands on his time, if you

wish.”

She bit her bottom lip. She did not feel she had the right to demand

anything of him. She was not his wife in any way other than in name.

“I am tired of this hostile silence that grows longer and longer between

you, Mary. One of you must end it!” John grasped her chin, his features

harsh with a frown. “You have a duty to your husband. ‘Tis up to you to abide

by the vows you spoke and serve him.”

She pulled away from him, angry that he would speak to her of duty

when it was his son who had turned away from her. “I do serve him, I carry

his son!”

“One of you must bend.”

“Aye,” she agreed. Surprised to see relief flicker across his face, she

continued, “‘Twill have to be Alexander. I can not speak of peace to a man

who will not even look at me.”

A scowl darkened his face. “What do you mean?”

“He stares off into the distance and stands like a stone or turns his

back to me in a way that is less than welcoming.”

“Nonsense! You are not a weak livered lass. You must be firm.” John

clenched his fist in emphasis.

She laughed, finding the suggestion amusing. “I shall be firm with a

man more than twice my size.”

“You are a woman. You may use that to guide him in the direction you

wish him to follow.”

Her laughter died. Every part of her shrank from the suggestion. “Nay!”

To approach him in such a way would be to encourage him. To encourage

him would leave her open to hurt once again. “If I can not reason with him

then we will continue as we are.”

John laid a hand on her shoulder in a gesture of comfort.

She turned her face away as quick tears burnt her eyes.

“You must be willing to try, Mary,” John urged. “Or do you wish to be set

aside and have another take your place?”

She caught her breath, the idea more painful than she wanted to

admit. “If that is what he wishes, there is nothing I can do.”

John scowled. “‘Twill be you who will have to begin. ‘Twill take one

small gesture to ease the way,” he urged. “I believe my son is waiting for

that.”

One gesture could lead to more than she felt willing to concede.

“‘Tis not only for my son’s happiness that I am concerned, but yours

as well, lass. ‘Tis a hard life and too short to be wed to someone with

whom you can not find fulfillment.”

She did not understand what he meant by that.

John touched her shoulder again. “Alexander can show you the way to

what I speak, if you will allow it.”

Silence stretched between them. “‘Tis difficult for a man to admit he is

in the wrong and twice as hard for him to beg forgiveness, Mary.”

She raised her chin. “Mayhap it depends on how much of a man he is,

m’lord.”

****

washbasin. She unfastened the sleeves of her kirtle and loosened the

drawstring along the neckline to shed the garment. As she soaped a linen

cloth, her thoughts dwelt on John’s advice and his words of warning. To be

set aside would be one more humiliation. She did not think she could face

that atop every other blow she had been dealt of late. Just the idea brought

an ache to life in the pit of her stomach.

If bruised pride were the only thing keeping her from being a true wife

to Alexander, she would seek peace between them now, this moment. But it

was not. He had intentionally stripped her honor from her that night, as

surely as he had her shift. He had left her naked and vulnerable before her

father’s men as though she were the whore her father had called her. He

had taken her virginity and paraded the proof before all to see, as though

she were a thing to be claimed and used like his horse, or his sword, but

less. So much less. The fear of being treated without respect, without care,

had been beaten into her with every lash she had received. She prayed for

the hurt and distrust to leave her each day. And for the broken feeling inside

her to heal. Mayhap if he offered her a sincere apology, she could release

some of the anger and pain.

Her bath finished, Mary donned her shift then lifted the washbasin to

empty it in the chamber pot. A wet patch on the floor caught her unaware

and her feet slid across the slick stone. Her arms jerked upward and the

crockery bowl she held flew through the air and shattered on the hearth.

Twisting, she tried to catch herself. She landed hard on her hip and elbow.

Pain shot like an arrow through her arm and she writhed in silent agony as

she cradled it against her. Vaguely aware of the door to the chamber being

thrust open, she curled in on herself.

“You must show me where you are hurt, Mary,” Alexander demanded,

his voice penetrating the painful haze. “Is it the bairn?”

Her hand went protectively to the small mound. “Nay. ‘Tis my arm.”

He helped her sit up. The gravity of what could have happened, what

might yet happen, fell on her with the weight of a war axe. In fear, she

reached out to him. Alexander’s arms went around her in a protective rush.