“Because I think ye want me, and God knows I want you.” His expression grew serious. “I have since the first time I saw ye looking like a faery princess in a sparkling gown at Holyrood Palace. And I’ve wanted ye more every day since.”
Oh my. She ran her tongue over her dry lips. “But ye said I wasn’t your sort of woman.”
“You’re the wrong sort of lass in every way,” he said, brushing his thumb across her cheek. “But I cannot help myself.”
With his black hair falling over one eye, Finn was dangerously appealing, and she was all too aware of his hard-muscled body against hers through her thin night shift. If his kisses were a hint, and she suspected they were, then making love with Finn would be nothing like having William grunt over her. She was sorely tempted to find out…
“There’s no reason to deny ourselves when everyone here thinks we’re wed,” he said. “And there’s nothing to fear since ye cannot bear a child.”
Ye cannot bear a child. Finn had hit upon the open wound in her heart and the true reason she could not say aye to him. Though she longed for his touch, his kisses, and more, she could not risk another pregnancy and miscarriage. She just could not face that heartache again.
“This will not happen.” She rolled away from him and lay against the wall, taking up as little space as possible.
He deserved an explanation. But she was not ready to tell him about her deepest sorrow, her failed pregnancies. She might never be. The wound was too deep, her failure too painful to share.
The room was so quiet she could hear his every breath. She was overly aware of her own breathing as well, even her pulse. It would take so little for the tension between them to ignite into something she could not control that she was afraid to move. Finn was right to question how long they could share this bed without giving in.
Staying here with him was dangerous. It was not Finn she feared, but her weakness for him. No other man could tempt her this way. Despite her efforts to resist, he had breached her defenses.
It would be unfair to ask Finn to take her halfway across Scotland to her sister Sybil so soon after they arrived and when so much was at stake for him. His aunt’s warning still rang in her ears.
It will be no easy task to win your place here…no running off again!
She had no money or jewels to pay someone else to take her. Even if she did, she would not know whom to trust to take her. It was a great distance, and she had a young child to consider.
In truth, she would not trust anyone but Finn. He could have abandoned them when Moray no longer wanted her kidnapped. Instead, he had brought them to this place, far from her brothers’ reach. For as long as she and Ella needed to stay here, they would be safe.
Until she was able to leave, she would just have to manage this…situation with Finn. She had navigated the perils of her marriage for years—catering to William’s demanding nature, soothing his erratic moods, and suffering his relentless criticism.
After that, she should have no trouble containing what was nothing but a simple attraction between her and Finn.
CHAPTER 16
Margaret awoke alone in the bed and sat up, looking for Finn. He was gone, and she had no notion where he was. After she refused him last night, she ought to feel relieved to avoid the awkwardness of waking together. Instead, she felt unsettled. Of course, it was only because she was accustomed to having him nearby. Except for the hour he went inside Huntly Castle, he had been her constant companion since the night he took her from Old Thomas’s cottage.
Judging by the sunlight shining through the narrow window, she had slept late. She dressed quickly, wishing she had a clean gown to put on, and went to find Ella. When no one answered her knock on Una’s door, Margaret pushed it open. Panic welled in her throat as she took in the neatly folded blankets on the pallets and the empty room.
Why had she let Finn and his aunt persuade her to leave Ella with a stranger? She did not know these people! She ran down the stairs and entered the hall breathless. When she saw Ella at the table eating porridge, the relief that poured through her body was so intense it made her limbs feel weak.
She had not realized becoming a mother would make bouts of terror a regular part of her life. But then Ella looked up from her breakfast and broke into a smile, and Margaret knew the worry was a small price to pay for the joy her daughter brought her.
Servants had cleared away most of the dishes, and the men were gone. She suspected the four women who had remained at the table were waiting for a closer inspection of Finn’s new bride.
“Good morning,” Margaret said as she slipped into the seat beside Ella and put a protective arm around her.
Finn’s Aunt Helen and Una greeted her with warm smiles that showed they were prepared to like her. His mother and sister-in-law, however, wore hard expressions that seemed to say they had already decided Margaret would meet their worst expectations.
“What with all the…excitement of Finn bringing home a bride, I’m afraid we failed to introduce ye to his mother Isabel and his brother’s wife Curstag,” Helen said, nodding toward the two women. “Now, shall I have the cook prepare some eggs and bacon for ye?”
“No need to go to the trouble,” Margaret said, knowing the kitchen servants would be busy preparing the big noon meal. “If there’s porridge left in the pot here by Ella, that will do fine for me.”
That earned her a nod of approval from Helen, which confirmed that the question had been a test to see if Margaret was the demanding sort of guest who created extra work for the hostess and her household.
“Did ye know Finn makes a perfect porridge?” Margaret said to fill the awkward silence as she served herself from the pot.
Helen beamed at her. “I taught him.”
“You cook?” Curstag asked, wrinkling her nose as if she smelled something foul. “The only time I enter the kitchen is when I find it necessary to reprimand the cook.”
Margaret suspected that occurred all too often and felt sorry for the cook.
“’Tis a useful skill,” Helen said. “Ye never know when it may come in handy.”
“Why would you ever need it?” Isabel said. “You’re a countess with a large castle full of servants.”
Goodness. Margaret regretted mentioning Finn’s talent with porridge. She began eating the lukewarm porridge with the goal of finishing it as quickly as possible.
“Is that Finn’s bastard?” Isabel asked, looking at Ella.
Margaret nearly choked on her porridge, then she pushed the bowl aside and lifted Ella onto her lap. Thankfully, Ella did not appear to understand what Isabel said.
“Isabel, this is my house, and you’ll treat my other guests with courtesy,” Helen said, which gave Margaret the moment she needed to gather herself.
Margaret was as shocked by Isabel’s lack of subtlety as by the insult itself. At court, insults could be just as cutting, but they were nearly an art form in their sophistication.
“My daughter is not a bastard. Nor is she Finn’s child.” Margaret paused to kiss the top of Ella’s head. “As Finn told ye last night, I’m a widow.”
“Hmmph,” Isabel grunted, and fixed her steely black eyes on Margaret. “Finn is a philanderer of the worst sort. He’ll bring ye no happiness.”
“Looks like a fine day, and Ella and I could do with some fresh air,” Margaret said, and stood up with Ella on hip. “Can ye suggest a walk nearby?”
“There are paths through the wood next to the castle,” Helen said. “Just don’t go too far and get lost.”
“I’ll ask Finn to take us,” Margaret said.
“I’m afraid he can’t today,” Helen said. “The earl has him practicing with his personal guard.”
Margaret was happy to hear it. Surely this was a sign Finn’s uncle was likely to ask him to join his guard. “I won’t disturb him then.”
“I’ve told my husband how pleased I am to have Finn back with us,” Helen said with a twinkle in her eye.
While Finn’s mother
may not say a word on his behalf, his aunt was on his side—and she was the earl’s countess.
“Curstag,” Helen said, “would ye be so good as to accompany Maggie and her daughter on their walk so they don’t lose their way?”
Margaret expected Curstag to make an excuse, but she readily agreed. When Margaret excused herself to fetch their cloaks, Helen and Una came upstairs with her and Ella.
“I have a few gowns packed away from when I was young and thin,” Helen said, taking her arm as they climbed the stairs. “I don’t know why I kept them for so long, as there’s not enough fabric to let them out to fit me now. Would ye like to have them?”
The back of Margaret’s eyes stung with the threat of tears at Helen’s kindness. The countess evidently had noticed Margaret came with nothing. Instead of thinking worse of her for it, Helen took pains to offer the gowns in a way that would not embarrass her.
“That is most kind of ye,” Margaret said. “I’d be grateful if ye would lend them to me until I can make my own.”
“Keep them—consider them a marriage gift,” Helen said, with a wave of her hand. “And try not to mind Isabel’s sharp tongue. There’s no bride Finn could bring home who would please her, but I can see now he made a good choice.”
“Thank you.” Margaret felt like a fraud for deceiving this sweet woman.
“I could tell from the moment ye entered the hall that the two of ye were bound by true affection, and that counts for something,” Helen said. “My son speaks very highly of ye as well, and Alex has his mother’s good judgment.”
Before going back downstairs to meet Curstag, Margaret tied the pouch of broken onyx to her belt. Though it was foolish, Finn’s sister-in-law made her uneasy, and the onyx reminded Margaret of her mother’s strength and love. From the way Ella clutched her old rag doll and hid behind Margaret when they met Curstag downstairs, she felt apprehensive too.
Curstag was blessedly silent as she led them out of the castle and onto a path into the wood. The weather was still cool this far north, but the bluebells were lovely and thick beneath the trees, and the birds were chirping overhead. As they trailed behind Curstag deeper into the wood, Margaret began to relax and enjoy herself. But then Curstag came to an abrupt halt and spun around to face her.
“You’re one sly bitch,” Curstag said.
“What?” Margaret stared at her. Curstag might be more careful in public, but she was as rude as her mother-in-law.
“Ye may fool the countess with that feigned look of innocence.” Curstag made her eyes big and blinked several times in what Margaret assumed was meant to be a mocking imitation of herself. “But ye don’t fool me.”
“I think it’s time Ella and I returned to the castle,” Margaret said, hoping to avoid any further unpleasantness.
When she started to turn back, however, Curstag stunned her by shoving her against a tree with surprising force. Margaret was too astonished to react.
“I didn’t come out here for a damned stroll in the wood,” Curstag said, bringing her face mere inches from Margaret’s. “I came to find out how ye got Finn to agree to marry ye.”
“I haven’t forced Finn to do anything.” It never paid to rile an angry person, so Margaret kept her own voice calm. “He’s the one who insisted I come with him to the Highlands. In truth, he absolutely refused to leave me behind.”
“Are ye with child?” Curstag shot a glance down at Margaret’s belly before returning her glare to Margaret’s face. “That must be it. Finn never wanted a bairn. Never. But knowing him, he’d feel obligated if a lass got herself pregnant.”
Margaret refrained from telling Curstag that women did not get themselves with child.
“Not that ye have any right to know, but I’m not with child,” Margaret said. “So perhaps ye can take your hands off me now?”
“Then I’d wager ye lied and told him ye were,” Curstag said, nodding to herself. “Aye, that’s it.”
“Whether I’m lying or not, surely this is a matter between Finn and me,” Margaret said. “I fail to see why it would be any of your concern.”
“Finn and I have always been close,” Curstag said. “I don’t want to see him made a fool of.”
Close? Margaret felt a jab of jealousy right under her ribs. She was not Finn’s true wife, or even his lover, so she had no rights to him. No claim at all. And yet she wanted—nay, needed—to know just how close he and Curstag had been.
And were they still?
“Ye won’t keep him in your bed for long,” Curstag said. “You’re too dull for a man like Finn. He’ll be bored within a sennight, if he isn’t already.”
Curstag was right. It would take a woman with a wild, passionate nature to hold Finn, but Margaret certainly was not going to give her the satisfaction of admitting it.
“And you’ll never have Finn’s heart,” Curstag said with a smile curling her full red lips. “He gave that away a long time ago.”
Margaret did not want to believe Finn had bedded his brother’s unpleasant wife—or even worse, given his heart to her—but she had to admit Curstag was the sort Finn liked. Though better dressed, she had the same blatant sensuality and voluptuous figure as the tavern maid who had flung herself at Finn when they went to find a boat.
Before Margaret could dwell any longer on that ugly thought, she caught sight of Ella and gasped. Her wee daughter was curled up on the ground with her hands covering her ears. After the violence the child had seen in her home, seeing Margaret get pushed and shouted at must have frightened her badly.
“Get out of my way!” Margaret shoved Curstag so hard she fell on her rear end, which served her right for frightening Ella.
Margaret rushed to her daughter, dropped to her knees, and gathered Ella in her arms.
“’Tis all right. You’re safe. I’m here,” she murmured. “I’ll not let anything bad happen to you.”
“Find your own way back,” Curstag said, and stormed off.
Margaret ignored her and continued rocking Ella and murmuring reassurances until the bairn finally stopped shaking.
“She’s bad,” Ella said, looking up at her with watery eyes.
“I’m sorry I let her frighten ye,” Margaret said, wiping Ella’s tears away. “Curstag has a foul mouth, but she can’t hurt us.”
Ella did not look persuaded.
“Come, let’s go back to the castle, and I’ll find a special treat for ye in the kitchen.”
Margaret looked around then and realized Curstag had left them in the middle of the wood. Worse, she had gotten turned around and was not at all certain which way led back to the castle.
She gave Ella what she hoped was a reassuring mother-knows-what-she’s-doing smile, and the two of them started off, hand in hand. After a while, the wood seemed to grow darker, and then a long, doleful cry that sounded like a wolf or wild dog stopped her in her tracks. Ow-oooo, ow-ooo. She picked up Ella and held the bag of broken onyx in her fist as she tried to hear where the sound was coming from over her pounding heart. Ow-ooo, ow-oooo.
Then, behind them in the distance, she heard the cry of seagull, a welcome sound that would lead them to the sea—and back to the castle. The path back split twice, but she knew which way to go by the cry of the gulls. Though Ella grew heavy in her arms, Margaret ran until she finally saw the clearing at the end of the wood.
“We’re almost there,” she told Ella, and pointed. “See, there’s the castle.”
The men were in the field between the wood and castle practicing with their claymores, the heavy two-handed swords Highlanders favored. Curstag stood watching them with her back to the wood. When she looked over her shoulder and saw Margaret and Ella, her expression turned sour. Apparently, she was disappointed they had found their way out of the wood.
Margaret wanted to strangle her, but she forgot about Curstag when she caught sight of Finn. Even for a Highlander, he was tall, but it was his skill with the sword that made him stand out among the men. He was simply breathtaking i
n motion, the ideal of masculine beauty and prowess, as he swung the deadly weapon with smooth, rhythmic strokes.
Clang, clang, clang.
Despite the chill wind coming off the sea, he had removed his shirt, and his muscles rippled and bunched as he swung his sword. He fought as if he knew instinctively where his opponent did not expect the blow, striking high and low and high again, but always pushing the other warrior back and back and back.
With one final, powerful swing, he knocked the other warrior to the ground with the flat of his sword. No sooner had he defeated him, than another came at him. Only then did Margaret notice there was a line of warriors waiting to fight him.
“Finn!” Ella danced with excitement and pointed at him. “Finn!”
He glanced up, and a thrill went through Margaret when his gaze caught on hers and held. His opponent took advantage of his distraction, however, and knocked him flat.
Finn took it with good humor and was laughing as his opponent offered him a hand. Finn took it, flipped the other warrior onto the ground, and stood over him with a wide grin. After signaling to the next man in line to wait a moment, he waved at her and Ella.
Margaret had forgotten Curstag was there until the woman looped her arm through hers and waved back at Finn with a bright smile. As soon as he returned to the practice, Curstag released her arm and flounced off toward the castle gate. On her way, she passed Una without a word.
“Mind that one,” Una said when she joined them. “She thrives on trouble like seed on a dung heap.”
“What’s between her and Finn?” Margaret asked.
“’Tis not me, but your husband ye ought to ask.” She paused, then added, “If you’re certain ye want to know.”
If there was nothing, surely Una would have just said so.
When Alex, who had been practicing with the men, came over to greet them, Ella let go of Margaret’s hand and ran to meet him. Margaret was relieved that her daughter seemed to have recovered from the incident in the wood. Alex, however, was limping.
“What happened to you?” Margaret asked.
“My horse got a thorn in his hoof and threw me,” he said. “’Twas my own fault for riding near the brambles.”
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