Authors: Kathleen Givens
Tags: #Historical, #Scotland - Social Life and Customs - 18th Century, #Scotland - History - 1689-1745, #Scotland, #General, #Romance, #Historical Fiction, #England - Social Life and Customs - 18th Century, #Fiction, #Love Stories
"Why did you insist they watch it?"
He sighed. "That's an ugly tale in itself. Ye ken how close Thomas's son Liam and my boys are?" I nodded. "Well, when I was gone the boys were sleeping over at Thomas and Murreal's. And when the runner came to get Murreal and tell her the news, my boys heard it. And when Thomas and the men went to come here, the boys followed. So they saw Tavis's body, and they saw Murreal, beaten and bloody, and Nola the same. And despite anyone's best efforts they heard the tale." He rubbed his forehead. "So when Allen was caught, I thought they should see the monster dealt with. It's a kind of circle for them, Mary. It closes the nightmare. The bad man canna come back and get them. Both my boys had nightmares, and many's a night they crawled into my bed telling me that they dreamed someone was chasing them to set them on fire."
I thought of Jamie's nightmare, of the monster man who set people on fire.
Alex raised his chin. "But yer right. I was vindictive. I wasna impartial. I made a mistake when I let Allen go before, and I couldna risk him repeating his brother's acts."
"Why did you let him go earlier?"
"He was seventeen, Mary. His brothers were older than I am, and they kent what they were doing. I kent it was a stupid thing to do, to let someone who'd been part of something like that go free, but I couldna do it. He'd not raped them nor set Tavis on fire. He'd only watched. I couldna hang the boy."
"Oh, Alex."
"Aye."
We stood in silence then while I thought of all he'd told me. And what a difference it made. "Why didn't you tell me,
Alex? Before the trial, after the trial, even last night, why didn't you tell me?"
Alex shook his head. "I dinna ken, Mary. I dinna want to go through it again, and then, when ye were so
angry
, I was even more angry that ye could consider me a barbarian when I was trying to stop men like Allen and his brothers." He shrugged. "I guess I thought that ye should ken I would behave properly. I guess I thought ye'd believe that of me no matter what. I thought ye'd trust me to—" His words, spoken so calmly and quietly, undid me. I went to him, full of guilt, and knelt at his side.
"Oh, Alex. I should have known there was more.
I’m sorry
."
He pulled me up and onto his lap, holding me against him. "It's no' yer fault, Mary Rose. I dinna mean to withhold the story. I just thought.... och, lass, I dinna ken what I thought. I just acted. When Murreal asked me to avenge her sister and her niece and Tavis, I dinna think on it further." He raised his eyes to mine. "
I’m sorry
for not telling ye the truth of it, Mary, but I'll never be sorry for ridding the world of the likes of Allen. That part was rightly done, even if for the wrong reasons."
"But having the boys watch ..."
"Aye. I dinna ken anymore if that was good. I've talked to them, and I fear I may have replaced the old nightmare with a new one. But at least they kent their da dinna let the monster man come to set them afire. And that's what I was thinking, Mary, to protect my boys. And the clan. And, aye, to let Thomas and Murreal have their revenge. And me mine. And that's why, when I found ye here and ye called me vindictive, I..." He shook his head.
"Alex, you should have told me."
He nodded. "Probably." And met my eyes. "But I dinna, lass, and it's done the now."
"Yes," I said, and slowly rose from his lap. "You're right. There's no changing what has happened." He nodded, watching me, his expression growing colder as he stood. I looked out over the water, trying to sort out my thoughts.
"Let's go then," he said over his shoulder as he strode away.
"Alex," I said heatedly. He turned with a wary expression and faced me. "Where are we going?"
"Where do ye wish to go, Mary?"
"Home."
He nodded. "Aye, well, then there's much to do." "What? What is there to do?" "Readying the ship—"
"Alex, you damned fool! Let's go to Kilgannon, not London." He didn't move but looked at me for a long moment, then over my head at the sea beyond. "Alex," I said in a softer tone. "Let's sort this out together. Trust works both ways, you know."
His eyes met mine. "What do ye mean?"
"You assumed that I was ending this marriage because I left your bed for a while to sort things out in my head, that I despised you and wanted to go back to London. Right?"
He slowly nodded. "Aye, that's what I thought."
"I was confused, Alex, and I was angry. I thought I knew you and Thomas and Murreal and Angus, but suddenly none of you were acting like the people I knew, and it made no sense to me. I needed time to think it through." I took a deep breath. "Alex, I love you, and I fear that even if you were a bloodthirsty savage I would still love you. I wouldn't stay with you, but I'd love you."
"Ye thought I was a bloodthirsty savage."
"No. But I didn't know who you were. And I came here to think. Alex, look at you." He gave me a puzzled look. "You're huge. You're beautiful. You're a very intense man. You dominate every room, every group, every moment when you're with me. And when you pulled me out of your mother's bed and back to ours, I was furious that you could do that. I could not think straight when I was lying in bed next to you. I left so that I could sort things out in my mind without you—-just by being there—dominating me again." I waved my hand at the yard around us. "As for trusting you, I have already proven myself. Do you not understand how foreign all this is to me? I trusted you enough to give up everything I knew, everyone I loved, to come here to this unknown place just to be with you. With you, Alex. Not your money, not your looks, nor your title nor anything else. You. I don't know how I could demonstrate my love or my trust better than that. So don't assume that
I’m ending
this marriage. If it's over, it's because you choose it to be. I love you, Alex, and I want to be your wife; But I want you to talk to me. Even about unpleasant things. Talk to me. Explain it to me. If I still don't understand, I'll tell you. But trust me enough to tell me."
His expression had changed from puzzled to guarded to thoughtful as I spoke. Now he watched me silently and then nodded. "I love ye, Mary Rose," he said. "And
I’m sorry
."
"You're sorry you love me?"
He smiled then and extended his hand to me. "No, lass,
I’m sorry
I dinna tell ye the story. It caused all this, my silence, and
I’m sorry
for that."
"So am I, my love," I said, taking his hand. He drew me to him and wrapped his arms around me with a sigh. "Take me home, Alex," I said.
"Aye, Mary Rose," he said. "I will." And he kissed me.
Later that afternoon, after we'd ridden back to the castle in harmony and been greeted without comment by Angus and Thomas, I stood alone on the top terrace and stared across the meadow to where the three brothers still hung, hidden now by the trees. I wondered how a man could rationalize actions such as theirs, how they could have been so brutal. I was still pondering when I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned to meet Murreal's eyes.
"Mary," she said.
"Oh, Murreal," I cried. "I didn't know. Alex told me today what happened to your sister and niece. I didn't know."
She nodded. "He told me. I thought ye kent, Mary, or I would have told ye myself. Dinna fret, lassie." She gestured to the meadow. "
I'm more
at peace with it since I ken he'll no' come back again." I nodded. "My sister is avenged. My niece is avenged. And my brother-in-law's shade can rest now. I ken it's passing strange to ye, coming as ye do from England, but I feel as though it's finally over." I nodded again and tried to put myself in her place. If Betty had been killed and Will and their child injured, would I want the life of their attacker? Part of me shouted yes, and I turned to Murreal and met her eyes again, humbler now.
"It's not as strange as you might think," I said, and Murreal gave me a sad smile.
ALEX AND I WERE VERY CONSIDERATE OF EACH OTHER FOR weeks, as though we could shatter the fragile peace between us with the wrong word or deed. But there was, though we continued to share a bed, little passion. After our explosion we both had retreated into courtesy, and while part of me was relieved, part of me missed the intensity of our former relationship. He was careful to tell me most of what happened each day, and I did the same, although there was little of consequence to tell.
The weather continued fair and warm, and the second planting was done with little delay. Everyone in the glen helped with the planting, and I carried food to the workers as they sowed the entire length of Loch Gannon. Arable land was scarce and the MacGannons made use of every bit of it. Alex let the tacksmen and crofters tend their own fields as they would, but the land that belonged to him he oversaw himself. This was, he'd explained, not his favorite duty, but an important one, and he spent hours on the far side of the loch where the land rose in gentle waves before sharply rising to meet the mountains. It was there that the oats and barley were sown and there that I would go and find my husband. And Angus, Matthew, and Malcolm as well. And there that I first saw the ruins of the house where Angus had lived with his Mairi, the house he'd pulled down with Alex's help after Mairi died and Angus swore he'd never live in it again. And it was there, on a breezy beautiful day when the air was so clear it almost hurt to look across the water, that Malcolm made his first overture to me.
The evenings we spent in the library had grown more comfortable and we laughed more than before, which pleased us all. Knowing Malcolm was leaving made all of us more tolerant of him. On this day, while I stood with Ellen and watched the men, stripped to their kilts, their backs growing brown as they worked in the welcome sunshine, Malcolm came to stand next to me.
"I have a favor to ask of ye, Mary," he said.
"Oh?" I was polite but could hear the wary note in my voice.
"Aye." His gaze followed mine to where Alex stood up the hill with a tight knot of men, wiping his brow with the back of his hand and gesturing to the field as they talked. "Ye ken
I’m to
marry and go to Glonmor with Sibeal," Malcolm said, shifting his gaze to me.
"Yes," I said, still watching Alex.
"Aye, well ..." He paused, and for a moment he sounded so like his brother that I glanced sharply at him. But there was no smirk this time, no conscious imitating of Alex, and I relaxed. They are brothers, I reminded myself, and if he can look like Alex, then he can sound like him as well. I must be more receptive.
"My favor is this," said Malcolm as his blue eyes found mine, his tone charming. "Alex tells me yer a wonder with the accounts. Would ye show me what I need to learn before I go to Clonmor so that I can manage better this time? Ye ken I did not do so well the last time I was handling business affairs?" His grin was infectious and I felt my reserve thawing. "I will be handling my own money this time, ye see, and I'd like not to make such a muddle of it." I nodded, careful not to speak. The comments that had sprung to mind would all sound bitter, and I had only suspicions, no proof. I watched him watch Alex. This is your brother-in-law, Mary, I told myself, and if there is a rift
in this
family, you will not cause it. So I nodded and smiled and told Malcolm that of course I would teach him what little I knew.
And I did. Some of our evenings and many afternoons were spent poring over Kilgannon's accounts while I showed him what were the easiest and clearest ways to record all the earnings and expenses. He was an apt student. Sometimes I even forgot that I did not like him, and we would spend hours in amiable conversation, Alex watching us. The days flew by, and while I could not bring myself to say I was fond of Malcolm, I was pleased to have peace between us. And then one afternoon, when the two of us were alone in the library, Malcolm made his second overture. I was showing him how the expenses were recorded for each ship and each voyage, but he was not looking at the page.
"Here, Malcolm," I said, pointing.
"How can I pay attention when ye look so beautiful, Mary?" He brushed a fallen lock of hair off my shoulder and leaned toward me. I was caught off guard and stared at him. He leaned closer and nuzzled my neck, and I jumped up, knocking over the chair.
"No," I said as I backed away, but he was unfazed. He shrugged and smiled at me as he leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms over his chest. It was an Alex gesture and I stared at him, wondering what to do next.
"It's yer fault, Mary," Malcolm drawled. "Ye are exquisite. No wonder Alex pursued ye."
I looked at him through narrowed eyes. "The lessons are over," I snapped, moving to the desk and slamming the ledger. Malcolm stood with slow, deliberate movements, stretched, and left with a backward glance that included a sly smile. It was hours before I realized that he'd made his overture when we were looking at the Diana's ledger and days before I realized the ledger was now missing. I never told Alex, though I wrestled with it, recognizing that by keeping my silence I was now doing what I had chastised him for.
I could see no useful purpose for the telling. Malcolm would be leaving soon and that would solve the problem. I had no illusions that Malcolm had found me so attractive that he could not control himself. It was quite simple. He had not wanted to discuss the Diana. This must have been how he had ensnared Sibeal, I thought, outrageous lies and a smooth manner.
Malcolm and Sibeal were married in a festive celebration on Skye, the MacDonald playing host and every MacDonald within a fifty-mile radius attending.
MacDonnell’s
and the Maclean brothers were there as well. Never let it be said, Sir Donald had told me during the wedding feast, that MacDonald of Sleat was not a generous man. I told him it could never be said, and he roared with laughter. But I had spoken the truth. The food was lavish and the entertainment lively. All that was missing was a loving bridegroom. I was not the only one to notice that Malcolm seemed more concerned with his own comforts than his bride's and that he left her alone for long periods while he drank or danced with other guests.
Alex and I ignored Malcolm's behavior and danced until we could not take another step, then headed to a quiet spot to catch our breath. On our way we were cornered by a man who talked loudly of James Stewart. Alex listened for a moment before excusing us and moving on. "Kilgannon," the man shouted. "Ye should be listening. Ye ken that Queen Anne has designated Sophia as the Electorate and that if peace is signed and the French agree, then James Stewart will not sit on the throne? A German will."
"I know that well, MacDonald," said Alex, turning back to him. "This is not new, ye ken, man."
The man nodded. "Aye, but it's closer than before, lad. Will ye no' drink with me to the king over the water?" He raised his glass high, the Jacobite toast hanging in the air.
"I have no glass, MacDonald. Ye can drink for me." Alex nodded and pulled me away. "Welcome to Jacobite
territory, lass
," he said in a low tone as we threaded our way through the crowd then stood for a moment watching the celebration. Even Angus danced with abandon, his face flushed with laughter. Malcolm and Sibeal were leading the couples, and Seamus was right behind them, Lorna on his arm. Alex smiled and led me to a quiet corner on the far side of the room, where he sank into a chair next to me. "Just like yer aunt's drawing room in London, aye, lass?"
"Not entirely." I smiled and then turned back to the room. Men in plaids and velvet spun women in silk around, the bright colors of their clothing lit by hundreds of candles in the chandeliers overhead. MacDonald of Sleat's home had been, like so many of these structures, originally a fortress and it still retained many of those features, but this hall was alive tonight with music and light, and the dancers in their finery enjoyed the huge room with not a thought of its history. I turned to find Alex watching me. He looked wonderful tonight, his blond hair tied simply back, the dark blue of the jacket emphasizing his eyes.
"Ye look like a goddess tonight, Mary Rose," he said tenderly, and brushed my hair back from my bare shoulder, his fingers lingering on my skin. I tried not to remember Malcolm using the same gesture, but when I saw the desire in Alex's eyes I forgot his brother. This was the man I'd met in Louisa's ballroom, the man who had so entranced me then. And now, more than a year later, I was still captivated. I felt the desire flair between us.
"I am happy," I said quietly, and took his hand in mine behind my skirts. He lifted my hand and held it to his mouth.
"As I am, lass, as we always will be. I kent from the start."
"I was thinking of the night we met."
He met my eyes. "So was I." "You're even more handsome now."
He laughed and put our joined hands between us. "I knew with the proper guidance ye'd be worth my efforts."
"Worth your efforts?" I stared at him.
" He grinned at me. "Speechless. It's so easy."
I watched him, so well pleased with himself, and I laughed, then leaned to kiss him. And that night, by the light of a full moon, we made love on the secluded balcony outside our room, finding our way slowly back to the intensity that had been ours in the early days. He stood with his arms about me, his hair glowing in the dim light, and kissed me, letting his lips linger on mine, then grazing them across my jawline. I arched my neck to receive his touch and shivered as he pushed my bodice from my shoulders. And I kissed him in return, reaching my hands under his shirt and then undoing his belt and loosening his kilt until it fell from him. He didn't seem to notice the cold as he bent over me and lowered me to a pile of our clothing, our breathing becoming faster as our caresses intensified. I pulled him to me and sighed.
"Alex," I whispered. "I love you."
"Mary Rose," he breathed. "I love ye, lass. I need ye to live. And I've missed ye so, my bonnie wife." He kissed my lips softly. "My wife. Mary, tell me ye love me again."
I ran my hand from his shoulder to his thigh. "Alex," I said, though it was becoming difficult to think. "I love you. You'll never find a woman who wants you, body and soul, more than I. Never. Now hush and come to me." He did.
It was a tranquil summer. The Treaty of Utrecht had been signed and England and France were at peace. All of Europe recognized that Queen Anne's heir would be the Electorate Sophia of Hanover. An intelligent woman, Sophia was nonetheless unsuited, most believed, to be queen of England, let alone Scotland, and her son George was held in contempt on both sides of the border. While there had been murmurings of rebellion throughout the Highlands, few openly declared themselves, and it was difficult for me to take the Jacobite grumbling seriously. More than one man had asked Alex to drink to the king over the water, as he waved his hand over a glass in the supposedly secret
signal, but
Alex dismissed it as romantic nonsense. The Jacobus Rex engraved on crystal glasses wed received as a wedding gift raised eyebrows but not arms. Alex said it was a storm in a teacup and I chose to agree, though we both knew it could be much more. For now Anne's health was fine, and we pretended that the Pretender did not exist. The weather was glorious—warm and sunny, not typical West Highlands weather—and we enjoyed it to the fullest, spending as much time as possible outside. Alex, Angus, and Matthew would disappear for the day, taking the boys and half the children in Kilgannon with them, teaching them to fish or hunt. They would arrive home in time for the evening meal, tired and filthy, but immensely pleased with themselves. I was pleased as well. Malcolm and Sibeal were at Clonmor, and Kilgannon had been peaceful.
That was the summer that I learned what had happened to Alex's brother Jamie. He had drowned in the loch in front of the castle while dozens of people watched. Some of the men had tried to save him, but it was too late when they got there. If Jamie had been able to keep himself afloat even for a few minutes, he'd be alive today, which was something Alex never forgot. Since Alex had become laird, I was told, every child at Kilgannon learned how to swim. Their cries of delight filled the warm days as they learned.
And that was the summer that I saw my first Kilgannon Games. It was customary for the western clans to descend on Kilgannon for a week of games and contests, held in mid-August, in honor of Alex's birthday and his grandfather's as well, for it was that Alexander who began the games years ago. The visitors were more familiar to me now and I even remembered many names. The MacDonald and his family I knew, of course, and they were well represented. Donald's teasing of Alex was constant but good-natured. He seemed genuinely fond of Alex, and I liked him for it. The Macleans were here with their huge men-at-arms, determined to win every game.
I watched Morag being courted by Murdoch, and I her talk with Alex at every opportunity, laughing up into his face and occasionally touching him with lingering fingers. I watched her touch my husband and then look to see where I was. There were no words between Morag and me, though she whispered behind hands often enough about me, but we both knew what the struggle was that we were engaged in. And who was the prize. And I luxuriated in my triumph when Alex would come to me and boldly kiss or caress me for all to see. This one is mine, Morag, I said to myself, with the arrogance of a young woman who feels very loved.
And I did feel very loved. My marriage to Alex had been all that I had imagined. I loved the physical part of being married. Oh, making love, yes, that was amazing and not at all the duty I'd been told it would be by well-meaning women who had terrified me with their tales of endurance. But there was more. The details of marriage delighted me. I loved to wake and see a cloud of golden hair on the pillow next to me, to be able to reach out and touch a naked shoulder or see a long leg wrapped around a blanket, to have the freedom to savor the sight of him, to know he was mine to touch and explore when I chose. For the first time in my life I was asked to raise my eyes instead of lower them, to touch instead of wonder, and I loved it. The freedom was what most surprised me about marriage. I'd been raised as all proper young ladies were, with propriety and respectable behavior as standards by which we were always measured, and I found it wonderful to be a married woman at Kilgannon. The ring I wore and the name I bore freed me to touch my husband without fear of comment or censure. They allowed me to talk with the clansmen as equals without the worry of reprisal, to go anywhere I chose, to choose the small details of my life. I loved the liberties I was permitted simply because I was no longer a maiden. Most of all I loved being Alex's wife now that we were in harmony again.