Chapter Fourteen
Frustrated after her argument with Aaron, Mairi had chosen to retreat to the privacy of her bedchamber rather than face the MacRaes at the evening meal. In her present mood, she could not bear to paste on a false smile and swallow down bite after bite of food, much less attempt any form of meaningful conversation.
After choking back her emotion in front of Aaron, she resolved not to spare another tear for the infuriating man. Even as she reaffirmed her determination, the sting of unshed tears burned behind her eyes.
She’d once thought him a man of intelligence. But now, she reserved judgment. If only she could throttle some blasted sense into the arse.
Mother of God, why did she allow the man to rile her so?
An itch started in her nose which burst in a full-blown sneeze. Groaning, she burrowed deeper in bed beneath the covers. The flicker of flames in the hearth cast shadows against the stone wall, while the hiss and crackle of burning wood filled the silence. Lying on her side, she stared aimlessly at the dancing display. ’Twas the most she could manage in her current state of mind.
In truth, the latest fight with Aaron had drained her—in mind, body and spirit. Her heart utterly ached. A dull throb started behind her eyes and radiated to the top of her head, accompanied by an annoying sniffle.
For the moment, the best she could hope for was a high-slung sun on the morrow which might warm the earth and thaw the ice enough for her to travel in a few days hence. She craved the safety and shelter of home.
What she would not give to feel her brother’s welcoming arms wrapped tight around her. To hear Arabella and Nora’s soft assurances that things would soon improve. And what of Nora’s bairn? Had she given birth to her and Liam’s firstborn yet?
The thought of holding the wee babe in her arms for the first time brought a faint smile to Mairi’s lips. She imagined her cousin beaming from ear to ear, pleased with his son or daughter’s arrival in the world.
Alas, another matter she must address when she returned home stripped away her fleeting good humor. ’Twas a task she had no particular liking for, but the fact remained. Under no circumstance could she willingly wed Patrick MacEwan.
Regardless of her feelings for Aaron, she’d arrived at the realization solely on her own. Though, some part of her had always known she’d not follow through with their agreement, but she could not fool herself any longer. ’Twas unfair to Patrick and ’twas unfair to her. She trusted Calum would understand and support her decision.
A soft knock at the door scattered her thoughts. Rolling her eyes, she blew out a deep breath. ’Twas no mystery who stood on the other side. She’d wager a coffer full of gold.
Connor.
Mayhap, if she closed her eyes and stilled her breathing, he might presume she’d fallen into slumber and leave her alone for the eve.
With another soft rap, he spoke through the door, “Come on, Mairi. I know you’re in there.”
And, there was her answer.
Rolling on her back, she frowned at the rafters overhead. “Go away, Connor. I desire a bit of privacy this eve.”
Saints, had she remembered to bar the door?
Mairi raised her head to check just as the entrance eased open and Connor’s dark head poked inside.
Blast!
When he caught her gaze, he proffered a slight smile. “You were not in the hall, so I brought a tray for you.”
Wearing a wary expression that tugged at her heart, the young man lingered in the entryway awaiting a word or a sign from her to enter.
Her head dropped on the pillow and she heaved an exasperated sigh. At last, she sat upright and frowned at the lad. “Just come in already.”
Pushing the door wider, Connor leaned out to pick up the tray he’d set outside in the corridor. He carried the salver inside and toed the entrance shut with his boot. Once he placed the tray on a bedside table, he grabbed a candle and strode to the hearth, igniting the wick and adding more light to the dim chamber. As soon as he returned the candleholder to the side table, he grasped the salver and, without the slightest compunction, plopped down on the opposite end of the mattress across from her, settling the tray between them.
For several long moments, she gawked at Connor. Fortunate for him, she considered the young man as an annoying younger brother since the understanding of proper decorum was wholly lost on the lad. ’Twas odd, but with each passing day, Connor resembled her cousin, Liam, more and more.
With a flourish of his arm, he lifted away the covering to reveal a heaping mound of assorted fare. She might’ve smelled the rich aromas if her nose was not stuffy.
“Saints, Connor, are you certain there’s enough?” she remarked with a wry twist of her lips.
“’Tis for both of us.” At her probing stare, he explained with an awkward shrug, “I’ve not eaten yet. When you did not appear in the hall, I thought to wait so that we might dine together.”
She had not anticipated such a thoughtful gesture. She almost smiled but a sneeze jolted through her, and she groaned, instead.
Oh, Sweet Mother, she felt dreadful. ’Twas impossible to have developed a cold from such a short time in the weather, was it not?
Frowning, Connor passed her a linen cloth from the tray. “Are you ailing?”
She accepted the offering and wiped her nose. “Nay, I’m merely weary this eve.”
At least, she hoped ’twas all.
He pushed the fare closer. “Try to eat something. It should make you feel better.”
Mairi shook her head. “You go ahead. I’ll eat a bit later.”
“Are you certain?” He raised a brow.
“Please, go ahead,” she urged, clutching the napkin beneath her nose.
Without further ado, Connor plucked the eating knife from the tray but hesitated. As he lifted his gaze to peer at her, concern weighed on his young features.
“The guards at the gate spoke to Niall.” With the tip of his knife, he pushed around a morsel of meat. “The two happened to hear you and Aaron arguing.”
Of course, they had. Neither she nor Aaron had been especially guarded with their words. At the time, she cared not if they’d drawn an unexpected audience.
“’Tis naught to worry over, Connor. We simply had a disagreement.”
’Twas putting it mildly but she’d rather not discuss the matter.
“But, you were absent from the hall afterward. I thought…is everything all right?”
“Do not fret.” She waved away his concern. “’Tis naught, in truth.”
His dubious stare spoke of his incredulity. “If you say so.”
Piling the pillows behind her back, she scooted backward to lean against the cushions while Connor dug into his meal. As she watched, her eyes grew as heavy as her head. Her nose grew more congested causing her to breathe through her opened mouth. Listening to the clatter of the knife and trencher as the young man filled his belly, she tugged the furs tighter around her neck and rested her eyes.
Another time, in the same dejected mood, the noise might’ve aggravated her. In that particular instant, the lad’s presence somewhat eased the burden of her frustrations. Mayhap, because the young man reminded her so much of her kin.
“Aaron and I are in the midst of a quarrel as well, you know,” Connor spoke around a mouthful of food.
Mairi’s eyes popped open to focus on Connor, who nodded to accentuate his words.
He swallowed his bite. “We’ve not spoken in a pair of days.”
’Twas an interesting development. “Why not?”
Once he finished eating, Connor set the knife on the tray and pushed the trencher aside. Propping an arm behind him to hold himself upright, he swung his leg hanging over the edge of the bed back and forth. His posture reflected that of a relaxed man, but the lines of worry marring his countenance revealed his discomfiture.
“’Tis possible I acted a bit rash, but I vow I could not bear anymore of his dismissiveness. Well, I told him as much.”
With a sheepish curve of his lips, he admitted, “I remembered your words, too. So, I might’ve said he should pull his head out of his arse.”
Unable to control her mirth, a loud bark of laughter tumbled out of Mairi. “What I would’ve given to see his face.”
He joined in her laughter. “’Twas a shock. That’s for certain. But, he needed to hear the words. I can only hope he might heed them.”
Her humor subsiding, she shook her head. “I’m unsure if he ever will, Connor.”
“I hope you’re wrong.”
“In truth, I hope so, too.”
Without a doubt, a good man resided somewhere within Aaron, beneath the burden of guilt and stubborn foolishness he allowed to control his actions. For his sake and his loved ones, she hoped the man found a way to divest himself of his troubles before ’twas too late.
Connor sat forward, plucking at the furs beside his bent knee. “I regret bringing you here and saddling you with naught but one difficulty after another. I’m sorry if Aaron’s hurt you.”
For a moment, Mairi thought to wave off his apology but ’twas true. Aaron might not have grasped the effect of his words, but he had hurt her.
Though, she bore part of the responsibility. Had she safeguarded her feelings, rather than leaving herself open and exposed then, mayhap, she’d not suffer the twinge of heartache dwelling in her chest at present. Saints, and to think she’d brazenly stolen a kiss from him earlier. Her cheeks burned with mortification.
“Do you think him lost, Mairi?”
Connor’s candid question gave her pause. For long moments, she considered the query.
Was anyone truly lost or unworthy of redemption?
Truth be told, she’d encountered a handful of wretched human beings who reveled in causing others naught but harm. They’d allowed vileness to guide every reprehensible action in their accursed lives. But, Aaron was in no way comparable.
Despite her anger and disappointment in him, she knew in her heart he was a decent, honorable man. He fully deserved the respect and admiration his clan offered, if the foolish man would simply set aside his stubbornness and accept.
Mairi lifted her chin. “Nay, I do not believe that for one moment. I’m confident he shall find his way, Connor.”
The strain creasing his features shifted into an assured smile. “I’m glad.” He glanced at the hearth over his shoulder. “Allow me to build the fire before you seek your slumber.” He nodded at the napkin clutched in her hand. “I’ve a feeling you shall need to the warmth.”
He’d receive no complaints from her. At present, her stuffy head swam and she could not breathe through one nostril.
Once done with his task, he pointed to the fare on the bed. “Shall I leave that for you? You’ve not eaten a thing.”
“Nay, I’m not hungry.” She dropped her head back to rest against the mound of pillows.
Picking up the tray, he strode for the door but paused to frown at her. “What of Gertie? Shall I send for her?”
She waved away his concern. “Nay, ’tis fine. A good night’s sleep shall do me well.”
At least, she hoped so. Otherwise, she planned to use Aaron’s length of tartan to wipe her nose.
Chapter Fifteen
Aaron turned the tankard upward, gulping a healthy measure of the fortified drink. The deep swallow of whisky licked a path of fire straight down to the pit of his stomach where the amber liquid churned in discord. The pungent odor all but singed the hairs in his nostrils. Saints, no wonder he never imbibed the foul drink.
For now, he shoved aside his distaste, desperately seeking the numbing aftereffects. With any luck, the wretched drink would cease the incessant tangle of his thoughts.
From the warmth of her bed before the hearth, Ash observed him through a set of narrowed green eyes, as if the wee beast somehow judged him, too, like everyone else.
“Do not look at me so,” he muttered. “You would not understand. How could you? You’re naught but a silly cat.”
As though she’d comprehended his words, Ash leaped to her paws and padded toward the entrance just as Niall swung the door wide open.
“Wait,” Aaron shouted.
The cat charged for the door, darting around Niall’s legs, and made her escape from the solar.
With a tray in one hand, Niall peered out in the corridor after the cat. “Shall I fetch it for you?”
“Why bother?” Aaron grumbled. “She’s angry with me as well.”
Hell, who had he not angered as of late?
Rather than comment, Niall shook his head and stepped inside, sealing the door after him. He tipped his head at the tray of fare. “Where do you want this?”
With the whisky searing a hole through his gut, food was the last thing on Aaron’s mind. “It matters not.”
Releasing a deep sigh, Niall strode to a half-finished trestle table Aaron had failed to complete as planned that day and placed the serving tray on top of the rough timbers.
“’Tis here when you wish to eat.” Niall shifted to face him. His friend’s gaze immediately landed on the tankard hanging limp in Aaron’s hand. “Ah, I see you’ve resorted to drowning your sorrows.”
The cynical remark hit its desired target, goading Aaron’s annoyance. “If I’m not mistaken, I did not ask for your opinion. So, I fail to see how ’tis any of your concern.”
“Nay, ’tis not,” Niall drawled out. “Allow me to offer a bit of advice. That”—he pointed to the tankard—“shall not improve your foul mood in the least.”
Unveiled censure colored his friend’s words, drawing Aaron’s anger to the surface.
“I do not believe I asked your advice.” He glared at the big man. “In fact, feel free to show yourself to the door.”
Unblinking, Niall straightened his shoulders and crossed his thick arms over his broad chest. He raked Aaron with a harsh, unyielding stare.
The subject of the man’s dissecting scrutiny, Aaron lashed out at his friend. “For Christ’s sake, go! Do you not have some other trivial matter to attend to rather than standing here badgering me?”
If anything, Niall’s glower of disapproval deepened. “You’re an arse.”
When he threw his hands down at his sides, Aaron expected Niall to storm from the solar, leaving him in blessed peace. Alas, the man stalked to one of the chairs Aaron crafted a fortnight ago and grabbed the back with his meaty hand. As he dragged the legs over the stone floor, Aaron winced at the piercing scrape of the heavy wood. Lifting the piece of furniture, Niall deposited the chair in front of Aaron with a loud bang and plunked his arse down in the seat.
When silence yawned, Aaron snorted. “So, you’re going to sit there like a fool, instead?”
Niall leaned back, the wood groaning beneath his substantial weight. “Nay, you’re going to listen to what the hell I have to say for a damned change.”
Outraged at the suggestion, Aaron snarled, “Have you damned well lost—”
“Enough!” Niall’s bellow resounded from the stone walls.
The sharp, uncharacteristic command, paired with the hard, daunting look sweeping across Niall’s features, stunned Aaron speechless. His gaping mouth snapped shut.
“’Tis long overdue, this talk of ours. For once, I’ll not allow you to shove me aside merely because you have no wish to hear the truth. Just sit there and listen,” Niall ordered.
Quelling the urge to rail at the man, Aaron rolled his eyes and slumped in his seat. With a jerk of his head, he remarked dryly, “Proceed, if you’re so inclined.”
“You know, ’tis hard to believe at present, but there once was a time not so long ago when I admired the man you were. Despite years of cruelty and neglect from your father, you never succumbed to his influence. You held firm in your sense of duty and honor, even managing to shield Connor from Brodie to the best of your ability. You took it upon yourself to see to your brother’s welfare and raised him with respect and integrity, which has made him the man he’s growing into.”
/> Aaron frowned at the mention of his brother. What other choice had there been? He’d promised their mother to care for the lad and protect him from their father’s corrupting reach. Saints, he refused to allow Connor to grow into the same wretched sort of human being as their father.
Leaning forward, Niall propped his elbows on his knees and peered at the fire. “I regret to say that after the initial shock of your father’s murder faded, many of the clan rejoiced.” He admitted with a shrug, “Myself included.”
Aye, so had Aaron and his brother. ’Twas no love lost on their parts.
Niall continued, “Brodie was a pitiful excuse for a laird, much less a man. He was naught but a blight to our clan. Alas, ’twas naught any of us could’ve done to stop him. Apart from ending his miserable life ourselves, or leaving the clan altogether, as some had done. But, we could not. Killing the bastard would’ve made us no better than him, and this is our home.” He met Aaron’s stare. “I know you somehow believe you might’ve ousted your father from the lairdship in some manner, but do not deceive yourself. There’s no doubt in my mind, he would’ve branded you a traitor and strung you up in the courtyard to make an example of you.”
Aaron’s heart quickened its pace. How had Niall guessed one of his main regrets? That he’d never successfully found a way to remove his father as laird, even if it meant Brodie’s death. ’Twas a dark thought Aaron kept to himself. Never even revealing the truth to Connor.
Niall smirked. “I can tell from your expression I’ve surprised you. We’ve been friends since we were wee lads, Aaron. By this point in our lives, I have no trouble understanding you.” He snorted. “Saints, if the Englishman brought any good to the clan, ’twas that he ridded of us of Brodie and those loyal to the man. Mayhap, I should give him credit for your lass as well.”
Mairi was not his lass. He opened his mouth to spout as much, but his friend threw up a large hand.
“I’ve not finished yet, damn it,” he ground out. “I’ve waited long enough to speak my piece, so bite your tongue. Look, I know you’ve carried a heavy burden over the years. No matter what the clan has had to face from your father, you and Connor have faced the same right alongside of us. But, since his death and after the whole affair with Mairi and MacGregor’s wife, you’ve stumbled off course somewhere.” Sympathy eased over Niall’s hardened features. “Not a single one of the MacRaes has ever blamed you for your father or what occurred the prior year. All of us accepted you did what was required of you to keep Connor alive. In fact, you did precisely what any number of us would’ve done for our kin. So, why you should feel any guilt for your actions absolutely confounds me.”
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