by Aileen Adams
“Why does it have to be one way or another? Why can’t it be both ways?”
“You always were an optimist,” Beatrice murmured, resting her head against her sister’s. “It’s the reason you arrived here, because you were an optimist about your chances of success.”
“Yes,” Margery whispered. “And look where it got me. Perhaps I make better sense than you think.”
29
“What do you plan to do, then?” Phillip and Jake looked to Broc, expectation on their faces. “You won’t be with us much longer, I wager, knowing how eager you were to get back to your business concerns,” the laird added.
“Aye, that is true.” Broc waited until Sarah finished examining the healing wound across his chest and down his torso. It still stung from time to time but over a week had passed since Randall had opened him up.
“You’ll be all right, it looks as though you were well cared for.” Was it his imagination, or was she smiling in a knowing fashion?
What did she know?
“I was,” he confirmed, sliding the tunic back down until he was covered. “And I got lucky the man was too enthused over the idea of killing me to put any real force behind his strike. He might have been intent on dragging things out, come to think of it.”
“You served him well,” Jake muttered, his eyes dark.
“Aye. He deserved what he got,” Phillip added.
“I do believe you should spend at least a few days with us,” Sarah advised. “Rest. Regain your strength after such a long journey. You’ll have another few days of hard riding ahead of you before reaching Kirkcaldy, after all.”
She was smiling again in that knowing way. Who had told her whatever it was she’d heard? He knew she’d already treated Hugh’s shoulder, which appeared to have healed as well as his own wound had, as well as Derek.
“I have quite a bit I need to tend to,” he countered.
“Yes. I know you do.” She all but winked as she left the room, humming to herself.
Women.
“What was that about?” Jake asked, looking to his brother.
Phillip merely shrugged, looking as lost as the others. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned about my wife, it’s not to ask such questions.”
* * *
It was a beautiful day, the morning after their arrival. Broc had spent much of the previous day resting, as per Sarah’s strict orders.
Resting and waiting for her. Looking for her.
It made sense that Beatrice would spend all the time she could with Margery, who he hadn’t yet seen since returning. It wasn’t his place to interrupt, especially when the two of them had so much to talk about. He’d heard laughter coming from down the corridor more than once and was glad.
Though in his heart, he wanted to be the one to make her laugh that way.
There was still a sadness about her, the same sadness he’d seen back in Silloth, before he’d left her at the inn. As though a wall existed between them.
Even though he’d declared his love for her, though they’d spent countless hours talking quietly the way he’d seen his friends do with their wives, even though he’d kissed her and held her in his arms, the wall was still present. The sadness still in her eyes, in her voice.
He knew not the words to use nor how to ask what it was that made her sad. It had been difficult enough to express his love, and then, he’d been certain he was falling short, that he sounded daft and clumsy.
How could he bring himself to ask her why she seemed to pull away from him, when he couldn’t find a way to tell her that she was his entire world?
He finally understood what he’d never understood before. His friends seemed happy, besotted with their brides. He’d only thought he knew why they seemed to forget the things which had once mattered more than anything.
Especially Derek.
Not that he’d do what Derek did. He wouldn’t give up being active in the shipping business. He had loved it before he loved her. It was all he knew, the only thing he’d ever done. How could he hope to provide for a wife without a way to make his living?
But if she didn’t wish to be part of his life, of that life…
Was that what upset her so?
He splashed his face with water from the basin in his chambers and put on a clean tunic and trousers. It was a relief, having clean clothing at his disposal, and to look forward to the morning meal prepared by the cook.
Even so, he was eager to be on his way. To start building something for himself.
It would be nothing without her.
She was all that was on his mind as he walked down the stairs. Perhaps they would cross paths that morning, she had to eat sometime.
She wasn’t downstairs, though Dalla and Heather were. They greeted him happily, cheerfully.
Heather looked him up and down. “You’re looking well, we had a fright when Beatrice described how you’d been wounded.”
Beatrice had spoken with all of them, it seemed. Everyone but him.
He looked about himself. “Have you seen her this morning?” he asked, hoping to sound as though it mattered little.
Did Heather know her smile was so like her sister’s? “She finished her meal early and was going out for a walk when I came down.”
Suddenly, he didn’t care so much for eating. His stomach tied itself in knots.
He told himself the lasses weren’t laughing behind him as he walked away, but it wasn’t true. It seemed everyone knew there was something between them and found it amusing.
Was this how the others felt when they’d first fallen in love? As though everyone around them whispered and chuckled to each other? The slightest questions suddenly had deeper meaning.
There were more important things to consider, he reminded himself as he stepped out into the fresh morning air. Such as what he would say to the lass if he managed to catch up to her.
30
It was a fine morning. The sort of morning which made her feel glad to be alive.
So many fresh, fragrant scents overwhelmed her as she walked along the edge of the lake, her shoes and stockings in one hand so she might enjoy the fresh, rich soil and the dew-dampened grass beneath her feet.
She didn’t know such richness, such fragrance existed until reaching the Grampians. She had once wondered about the trees which grew in the woods between the farm and the church, how old they were and how much they’d seen. They were mere twigs compared to the majesty of the pines which grew on either side of the valley in which she strolled.
She settled herself at the edge of the lake, carefully arranging her skirts before sinking into the thick, lush grass which seemed to extend endlessly in all directions. Frogs sang all around her, their voices overlapping in a joyful noise which brought a smile to her lips.
Before her sat the lake, clear and smooth as glass. Only the occasional bubbling of a fish as it reached the surface disturbed the water. Otherwise, there wasn’t so much as a hint of breeze to cause a ripple.
She picked up a small stone and tossed it in, watching in fascination as ripples extended from the place where the stone went under. Another, then another, the ripples sometimes hitting each other and causing a new set of tiny waves to form.
She might have sat there for hours, watching, but for the sound of approaching footsteps. Her back was to the house, leaving her unable to see who’d come from inside, but there was only one man who would take the trouble to seek her out.
He slowed down, as though he was uncertain whether or not to join her. She wasn’t entirely certain whether she wanted him to, either.
Every moment spent with him was joy which would only result in pain later, after they parted. It would only make the pain worse later if they sat together there, watching the tiny bubbles appear on the surface of the water.
And yet she yearned for him more than she would’ve believed possible before meeting him. Just his nearness would be enough, sitting beside her. She needed nothing more.
And so
much more, all that once.
More than just his love for the moment, right then and there. She needed him always, wanted the assurance that he wouldn’t forget her at the earliest opportunity.
“Do you wish to be left alone, lass? Would you mind company?”
She smiled, still facing away from him. His voice was a gentle rumble.
“Please. The morning is far too beautiful not to be enjoyed.”
When he sat beside her, she continued looking out at the lake. “Isn’t it beautiful?” she murmured. The few billowing clouds which passed above reflected in the water, as though the sky had come down to earth.
“I’ve seen more beautiful than this.”
“Where?” she asked, almost daring him to come up with an answer.
He smiled. “Seated beside me, for one.”
She’d fallen into his trap, and couldn’t help but laugh in spite of herself. “Well done.”
“It’s true, lass. I wouldn’t say it if it weren’t.”
“Thank you.” She looked away, cheeks flushing. He stared at her as though trying to commit her to memory. Because he knew they’d be parting ways?
“How is your sister?”
She beamed, her heart lightening. “Wonderful. Not feeling very well sometimes, but wonderful. We talked late into the night.”
“I heard you laughing from time to time. It was good to hear.”
“Have I thanked you for bringing me here? Truly?”
“You don’t need to.”
“But I want to. Thank you. If it weren’t for you, we would never have seen each other again.” It was so much less than she wanted to say, but she wouldn’t embarrass him. She wouldn’t leave unhappy, uncomfortable memories between them.
“You’re welcome. I would do it again.”
She smirked. “Again? Truly?”
“Why not? It meant meeting you, lass. And making you happy.” He shrugged as though it were the most natural thing in the world. Didn’t he know he was breaking her heart?
She turned away, a lump in her throat.
“What is it?” he demanded, an edge in his voice now. “Tell me. Why do you turn away? Do you wish we had never meant anything to each other?”
“Don’t you?” she asked, standing and gathering her things. “I’m sure there are plenty of things which need your attention before you leave. Things more important than me. You should get to them.”
“Is that what you’re thinking?” He followed her as she hurried off, still barefooted. “That I’m eager to get away from ye?”
“Well? Aren’t you? Please, if that’s the case, I beg you to go. Leave me alone.” Her voice broke, emotion overtaking her, and she turned her ankle on a stone in her haste to get away. It sent her sprawling.
“Beatrice. Beatrice, lass.” He caught up to her, helping her sit up. She grimaced when he touched the ankle she’d twisted. “Why do ye insist on making things difficult for yourself?” he asked, sighing.
“I would appreciate it if you would keep your opinions silent,” she replied with all the dignity she could muster. It did little, as tears spilled onto her cheeks.
He sat again, facing her. “Why do ye think I plan to leave ye behind? What gave ye that idea?”
She blinked hard, striving to clear the blurry image his face had become. She had to see if he was sincere. He sounded as though he might be, but she hardly wanted to believe it.
“You never said you wouldn’t,” she pointed out.
“I did say I love ye, did I not?”
She nodded.
“So? Is that not enough?”
Her mouth fell open, when she managed to close it, she shook her head. “No! That’s not enough!”
“What is enough, then? What do you need to hear?”
A laugh burst from her throat. “I don’t know! A good beginning might be for you to tell me you don’t intend to leave me behind and forget me.”
“I do not intend to leave ye behind and forget ye.”
“What is your intention, then?”
He rubbed the back of his neck, a rueful smile breaking over his face. “Hardly the way I wanted to do this, lass, but perhaps it’s for the best. I don’t know how to speak of these things, and now I see it’s gotten to the point where you misunderstood my intentions.”
“Which are what?”
His words came out in a rush. “To marry ye, lass. If you’ll have me. To ask ye to come with me to Kirkcaldy and help make a home and a business together.”
Her mouth fell open once again. It was as if the entire world had stopped spinning and everything went still and clear. She could see every hair on his head, every bit of stubble on his cheeks. The needles of the pine trees far off, behind him. She felt every blade of grass beneath her hands. Everything.
He wanted to marry her. He wanted her to come with him.
“The only thing which kept me from asking was the not knowing how you’d feel about such an arrangement, living apart when I had to sail with a shipment, being alone when my work was busiest. I should have found out, rather than telling myself a lass would never want to live that sort of life.”
“You don’t know the sort of life I want to live,” she whispered.
“Which is exactly what I’m trying to say,” he reminded her. “I’m terribly awkward, unknowing of how to speak to a lass about the things which are most important. I’m sorry, lass. I should’ve known that was what upset you so.”
“You want to marry me.” She had to say it out loud, had to prove to herself that it was true.
He rose to his knees, moving closer. “Aye, lass. I wish for ye to be my wife. I canna imagine life without ye.”
“I can’t imagine it without you, either,” she admitted.
He took her face in his hands and kissed her, and she kissed him back as hard as she could. How was it possible to be so happy? She wasn’t certain how much more she could take.
“You know,” he whispered once the kiss was finished, their faces still close. “It’s a good thing, for there will be something waiting for you in Kirkcaldy before long. I’m not certain how I would get it here, though I would certainly have tried if needed.”
“What?” she smiled, thinking how bold it was for him to make such arrangements without having asked her to marry him.
“A certain friend of yours, who I knew you would miss.” He stroked her hair, her cheek. “Deacon Eddard promised to arrange things on his end, and I gave him as much as I believed it would cost to carry the animal on the next ship to Kirkcaldy.”
“The animal?” She pulled back, eyes darting over his face in an effort to find the meaning she hoped for. “Cecil? Is it Cecil?”
He laughed heartily. “Aye, lass. I thought you’d want a horse of your own, and I was certain none other would do. He can live a life of leisure, if you wish. Whatever you prefer. I didn’t want you two to be apart.”
She let out a gusty sob, throwing her arms about his neck and burying her face in his shoulder as she wept in gratitude and joy and disbelief.
He chuckled close to her ear, his breath tickling her skin. “I take it you’re coming with me, then, when I leave?”
She could always come back in time for the baby’s birth, and Margery could visit once she was strong enough to travel. They had discussed it the night before and decided it was time for both of them to begin lives of their own, even if it meant being apart.
Beatrice nodded, craning her neck to look up at the man she loved. “Aye. I’m coming with ye, my love. And I’ll be your wife, and be proud to be your wife.”
He laughed, wrapping his strong arms around her waist. “A fair attempt. I’ll have ye talking like a Scot before long, lass. Wait and see.”
She would gladly wait and see, even if it took the rest of her life.
I hope you enjoyed A Highland Sailor!
Next in the series... A Soldier’s Salvation.
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Copyright © 2018 by Aileen Adams
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