Magdalene wasn’t mad! His beautiful wild-eyed wife wasn’t mad! She glared at him with such fury, her eyes sparking fire, that it dampened his euphoria, though he couldn’t help chuckling.
“Easy, wife, the poor women were only trying tae feed you, not torture you.”
She grew so still in his arms of a sudden, staring at him as if he might have gone mad, that Gabriel loosened his hold on her—much to his regret when she wriggled out of his grasp and whirled around to kick him in the knee.
He grunted, more taken by surprise than pain, but it was the defiant beauty standing with her fists clenched in front of him that took his breath away.
Her long, tawny hair wild around her. Her cheeks a bright pink. Her saucy breasts rising and falling with outraged indignation beneath her white nightgown of so delicate a cloth that her nipples pressed taut against it.
With a gasp, she followed his gaze to their rosy outline—and then looked up at him with sudden alarm in her eyes.
“No…no!”
She tried to bolt past him, but Gabriel caught her in his arms as Euna and Donella fled with fresh shrieks out the door, clearly wanting no more part of tending to his wife.
Meanwhile, the young serving maid holding the tray of still-steaming soup stood a few steps inside the room, her eyes wide and her face blanched white at what she must have witnessed.
“Leave the tray on the table and shut the door,” he commanded, grunting again as Magdalene dug her elbow into his ribs, struggling mightily.
“Aye, Laird, aye!”
The poor girl couldn’t oblige him fast enough, Gabriel wondering if there would be any soup left in the bowl for how quickly she deposited the tray and skittered away.
The door left yawning behind her, though she returned an instant later, bobbed a chagrined curtsey, and then slammed it shut.
Magdalene jumped in his arms, gasping at the sound, and began to struggle all the harder, even as Gabriel picked her up and carried her to the bed.
“No…please, no! No consummate! No consummate!”
For a fleeting moment, Gabriel considered what it might be like to lay Magdalene down upon the mattress and strip the nightgown from her—by God, she wasn’t a lunatic after all and no more a child in her mind than he was the monster she believed him to be!
Just to look at her…to drink in a vision he hadn’t seen since pulling her out of that fountain, his loins tightening at the memory.
Her body naked and wet and so lovely, like a mythic nymph risen from the lough to tempt him—aye, he was sorely tempted right now. Yet Clovis’s warning came back to him not to push her past what she could bear, and clearly she had a wide-eyed, desperate look that helped at once to clear the desire fogging his brain.
“Maggie, I came here tae try and get you tae eat,” he murmured, setting her down gently upon the edge of the bed. His heart went out to her that she sat so tense and alarmed like a sparrow ready to take flight, and he went at once to fetch the bowl of soup to prove his intentions. “Ah, good, it’s still hot.”
To his relief—and no small amount of surprise—she hadn’t flown from the bed and run to the door, but instead perched there with a look of astonishment on her face as he grabbed a chair and settled it in front of her. Then he sat down, his knees touching hers though she immediately shifted them away.
“Shh, wife, I’ll not hurt you. You’ve every right not tae believe me after staying in this room all week, but I came at once when Clovis told me you havna eaten for two days. Has the food not been tae your liking?”
She didn’t answer, looking from his face to how he stirred the thick soup and then raised a spoonful to his lips to blow upon it.
“Hmm, I think you’ll like Cook’s chicken soup. You havna met him yet, but he’s as round as a barrel—just like Tam, my steward. Will you try some, Maggie?”
Again, he heard only silence, Magdalene turning her head to one side and looking away…that is, until his stomach growled so noisily that she glanced back at him in surprise.
“Och, I’m ravenous as a wolf, but I’ll not eat a bite until you have a mouthful or two. Will you oblige me and sample Cook’s soup?”
She simply stared at him, but when his stomach growled again, even louder than before, he could swear he saw her expression ease and even the slightest hint of amusement in her gaze.
“Here, I’ll hand you the bowl and fetch you a slice of buttered bread. Eat, Maggie, please. You’ve got me worried about you…”
Relief filled him again that she took the bowl, not hurling it across the room but lifting it to breathe in the aroma. Suddenly, he heard her stomach growl noisily, too, a small laugh escaping her that sounded like the sweetest music to his ears.
He stared at her, mesmerized, but she sobered just as quickly when he rose from the chair.
“Ease yourself, lass. I’m fetching the bread, is all.”
Gabriel kept his movement slow and purposeful, not wanting to startle her in the least as he heard a gentle slurping behind him. Now he smiled, too, the mood in the room as peaceful and calm as when she’d lain in the bed with little Rhona in her arms—and he wanted to keep it that way.
He wasn’t surprised at all when he retook his seat that the soup was half gone, Magdalene having forgone the slower spoon to lift the bowl to her mouth. She looked up at him with some embarrassment, which wasn’t what a madwoman would have done at all.
She seemed to have realized her mistake, too. She fairly grabbed the slice of bread from his hand and shoved a good portion into her mouth as if determined to appear the lunatic—aye, he could see so clearly now what she’d been doing.
Any time she had forgotten herself and her ruse, she had redoubled her efforts to make up for it, which left Gabriel wondering what she intended to do next…the calm before the storm. He couldn’t have been more startled when she handed him the half slice that remained, her voice muffled as she chewed.
“You…eat.”
She looked like a squirrel with her cheeks so full of bread. Gabriel hoped she wouldn’t choke as he obliged her and ate what she’d given him, but when she offered him the half empty bowl, his guard went up.
What was she thinking? What was she plotting? He could almost hear her mind whirling as she glanced from him to the door as if gauging how fast she could run there. To thwart her, he edged the chair closer to the bed and straddled her legs with his knees, all the while finishing the delicious soup in two hearty gulps.
When he lowered the bowl, he saw that she was glowering at him, which almost made him laugh aloud.
Aye, it was a fine game of chess the two of them were playing now, and he wondered how long it would take before she realized he knew exactly what she was up to.
Her ruse discovered. Her lunacy feigned. He was tempted to end the charade right then and there, but in truth he was enjoying himself by playing along—and besides, the day was still young.
What else could he do to soothe her, to calm her fears, and mayhap have her come to the understanding that she hadn’t been married to a monster at all? She had eaten, thankfully, one crisis averted, and without a doubt her constitution was stronger than Clovis had imagined, to go without food for several days.
Poor wee lass? He had expected to find her abed, pale and weak, and not wrestling on the floor with one of his maidservants. Poor Donella and her stinging scalp was more the truth of it!
“You…go away.”
Gabriel had to stifle a chuckle at the defiant lift of her chin, though her eyes held more than a hint of concern now at what he intended to do next.
He longed so much for the day when she would speak to him in a normal fashion, but he knew just sitting there with her would get them no closer.
He glanced across the room to the carved armoire his brother had imported from France, the ornate furnishing still filled with gowns that had belonged to Anna.
His sister-in-law had been a bit taller than Magdalene, but very close to the same size. Magdalene needed to ch
ange clothes, but since Donella and Euna had flown off to who knew where, the task was left to him.
“Did they show you what was in the armoire?” he asked as nonchalantly as he could, setting the empty bowl on the floor and rising from the chair. “Sister Agnes told me you had only a few gowns, but there are plenty more for you tae choose from. They once belonged tae my sister-in-law, God rest her, the finest gowns you’ll see anywhere. Come, let’s get you dressed so we can go for a ride.”
She looked from him to the armoire, and as if suddenly guessing what he intended to do, she began to shift backward upon the bed. He caught her, not roughly but firmly, and drew her up to stand in front of him.
“Go on. Pick out a gown and change. I’ll be right here tae help you.”
Her eyes widening, Gabriel thought she might attempt to flee again for she glanced past him to the door.
“Maggie, dinna you want tae enjoy some fresh air? I’ll even let you ride your own horse. Would that please you?”
She glanced back at him so sharply that he chuckled, knowing full well she had taken the bait.
He might regret it. Her riding skill was already well proven, but he was anxious to show her some of why he’d agreed to take her as his bride.
If there was any way to earn her trust and put an end to the ruse she seemed determined to continue, a ride into the village was a good place to start.
“Here, I’ll pick out a gown for you—”
“No!”
She pushed against him so suddenly that he staggered backward, Magdalene once again proving to him that she was anything but predictable.
She flew to the armoire and flung open the doors, wildly rummaging through the gowns and even tossing several onto the floor. Her outcry told him that she had found the one she wanted, the same gown that she’d worn during the journey from the convent.
The blue fabric still water-stained from her thwarted attempt to escape across a creek, which told him then—Gabriel sighing heavily—that she must have another such plan in mind.
She positioned one of the doors of the armoire so she could dress behind it, hidden from his view, and in only moments she was ready to go after digging for a pair of slippers in a lower drawer. With a flourish, she whisked around her shoulders the same cloak that she’d worn, too, and then hastened to the bedchamber door.
“Go…please go!”
She looked so elated, almost giddy, and threw back her head to utter the same crazed laughter he’d heard before.
God help him, right then and there he almost reconsidered their outing, Gabriel deciding that the next time he saw Clovis, he might box the man’s ears.
Poor wee lass, indeed.
Chapter 13
“Do you see the scaffolding on those two towers, Maggie?”
Magdalene pretended not to hear Gabriel, though she had seen what he now pointed out to her when she’d first arrived at MacLachlan Castle—unhappy day!
Scaffolding? Why was he troubling himself with speaking to her about such a thing? She was outside the castle walls for the first time in over a week and she didn’t intend to return, either! As soon as she found the right moment, she would kick her horse into a hard gallop and never look back—
“Your dowry is paying for the repairs. So much of the castle needs work—something my brother, Malcolm, regrettably neglected. God rest him, he wasna an evil man, but a frivolous one. He nearly ran the castle and lands into the ground for his love of fine clothes and imported furnishings and tapestries…like the ones in your room. Our room.”
Magdalene started, her hands tightening sharply upon the reins, which made the dapple gray gelding she rode snort and toss its head.
Whatever was the matter with the man? She hadn’t liked at all the way he’d said, “Our room,” as if he had meant for it to have some special import.
And why had he brought up a dowry? Of course she imagined gold had changed hands from Seoras to Gabriel, no doubt a goodly sum to make up for him wedding a lunatic.
She glanced over her shoulder at the towers with scaffolding—mayhap much more than a goodly sum to fund such extensive repairs.
Yet what did she care about any of these matters? Or that Gabriel’s brother, Malcolm, had been a frivolous man? She wanted to think only about escaping Gabriel once and for all, which meant she might not be able to return to the convent.
He would only look for her there, unless Sister Agnes and the nuns might hide her from him? Aye, mayhap they would if she wept and carried on about how cruel Gabriel had been to lock her away for a week with only Euna and Donella for company—
“Look, some of the bairns are running out from the village tae greet us. You wouldna have recognized those children when I returned home after Malcolm’s death. They were starving, just skin and bones. Their parents, too, and the serving folk in the castle not faring much better.”
Again, Magdalene clutched the reins, Gabriel’s voice had grown so grim.
She wouldn’t look at him, no, she wouldn’t, though she wondered why he was telling her these things when a lunatic would hardly understand.
He had been acting so strangely from the first moment he’d burst into the room to find her grappling with Donella on the floor—och, she felt terrible for hurting the poor woman. It must have been going without food for two days that had left her nearly beside herself, so sick at heart over the fate dealt to her.
Such frustration had festered inside her that when Euna put that spoonful of cold porridge to her mouth, she couldn’t withstand it any longer! She hadn’t needed to feign lunacy to kick and fight and pull hair—aye, she’d become a cantankerous thing, but it was all Gabriel’s fault!
In spite of herself she glanced in his direction to scowl at him, but he was focused upon the children drawing closer, and waved at them.
The kindest look on his face that made Magdalene feel as shivery inside as when he’d sat her down so gently upon the bed and told her that he had come to try and get her to eat.
Not to have his way with her, much to her relief—though she couldn’t deny that him staring at her for a heart-stopping moment, his gaze dropping to her breasts, had made her feel as breathless as alarmed.
So, too, when his knees had rubbed against hers, and when he had offered her the bowl of soup, his voice so husky and deep.
The two of them sitting so close together, Gabriel looking more handsome than any man had a right to…his clean masculine scent beguiling her, the way his damp dark hair curled at his neck, beguiling her…for clearly he had taken the time to bathe before coming to her room.
And then his stomach had gone and growled—startling her into letting down her guard even more, until she’d laughed when her own stomach had done the same thing—aye, laughed!
Not only that, but she had eaten that flavorful soup as obediently as a lamb while he went to fetch her a slice of bread. How could she not, though? She’d been so famished that she had drained half of the bowl before he returned—his smile making her flush with embarrassment.
A madwoman would have splattered the stuff all over herself, not gape at him like it should matter to her what he might think of her!
To recover herself, she had stuffed half of that thick slice of buttered bread into her mouth and then offered him the rest of her food, her plan to make a run for the door until he’d boxed her in with his knees. Then he had offered to help her dress so they could go for a ride, surprising her altogether…but nothing could have astonished her more than when he’d said she could ride her own horse.
Everything about their interaction had been astonishing, bewildering! Why did she feel like he was looking at her differently…acting toward her so differently—och, what did it matter? As soon as the right moment came along on this lovely spring day, mayhap once they rode past the laughing children who were almost upon them, she would make her move—
“The bairns’ families will want tae thank you since it’s our marriage that saved their lives. I havna told you the sto
ry of how we came tae be wed, but mayhap after we greet the villagers…”
Gabriel didn’t say more, laughing as well and dismounting from his massive gray steed so that the children could surround him. To Magdalene’s astonishment, several of them rushed right into his arms and he hugged them with obvious affection.
“Laird MacLachlan, your lady’s so pretty!” piped up a freckle-faced little girl Magdalene hadn’t seen before, though she did recognize the three young lasses who had given her posies when she’d first arrived at the castle. Gabriel gave them a hug, too; he hugged any child who wanted one, including some little boys, although the older ones stood back as expected at their age.
Yet they looked with awe at Gabriel, who made a powerful figure, indeed, in his dark tunic and with his plaid breacan wrapped around him, his sword sheathed in a wide leather belt around his waist.
Magdalene felt her heart beat faster just looking at him, the bright sunlight glinting off the reddish tone in his hair—which oddly, she had never noticed before. He appeared so youthful around the children, his teeth a flash of white as he smiled and chatted with them.
“Is all well in the village?”
A host of nods greeted his query, though one boy, taller than the rest and with a shock of coppery hair, stepped out of the group and thrust back his shoulders.
“I’m twelve now, Laird! Surely old enough tae come and help tend tae your horses—and one day tae ride with you and your men, aye, I will!”
“I’ve no doubt of it, Jaime,” Gabriel said solemnly, though still with a hint of a smile. “I’ll have your da come speak with me and we’ll find a place for you with the other stable hands. What say you tae that?”
The boy bobbed his head and beamed from ear to ear, his young companions gathering around him to slap him on the back to congratulate him. Several of the girls ventured closer, too, eying Jaime with evident admiration, which made Magdalene smile at their sweet innocence.
When she had been twelve, she’d had so few cares, flitting around her father’s fortress, her life so untroubled then. Even the young warriors who had stood guard in the bailey had been ordered to watch out for her, one even picking her up when she had tripped and fallen right in front of him.
My Highland Warrior (Warriors of the Highlands Book 1) Page 10