Michele Sinclair - [McTiernays 05]

by Seducing the Highlander

  Craig peeked into the bedroom but could see nothing. Picking up the one lit candle, which had burned down to nearly nothing, Craig brought it into the bedchamber and lifted it high. Meriel was not there. She was not anywhere in the cottage. It had not occurred to him that she would flee back to her room in the castle, but she had. Pivoting, he put the candle back and marched angrily out the door. Had she not heard him last night? Had she not understood? They were married, and he did not care how angry either one or both of them were, they were going to sleep together every night and in the same bed! If she did not understand his meaning before, she certainly would once he was done.

  Craig knew his facial expression reflected at least some of the anger he felt as he passed through the gatehouse. Normally the guards would have waved or shouted out an acknowledgment. But not tonight. As soon as both men saw Craig, they decided to pretend they had not. And he was thankful. Turning sharply to the right, he headed to the tower stairwell that led to the room she had shared with her sister, assuming he’d find her there.

  When he entered the empty and clearly unused room, Craig felt his anger rise even higher. He immediately stormed back down the stairs and toward the Great Hall, fully expecting to find Meriel commiserating with her sister, blaming him for every fierce word they had shared. But again, he found no one inside. Turning around, he went back to the keep and spoke to the guard on duty, only to learn that his brother, Raelynd, and the laird had all retired for the night some time ago. Nothing of Meriel.

  For the first time since leaving the cottage, an emotion other than anger was consuming him. With both hands, Craig roughly raked his fingers along his scalp in an effort to help him think. If she was not in the cottage or at the castle, where would Meriel be? Though not something she had ever done before, it was possible she was out looking for him. Or maybe she decided that she needed to go for a walk and think as well.

  Craig looked up at the night sky, which was getting increasingly dark. When he had left, the moon had just passed its apex. Now it was nearly gone. Walking at night was always somewhat dangerous, but soon it would be very much so. As he envisioned the dangers Meriel could face, fear swept through him. He increased the speed of his gait and headed back to the cottage to grab a torch and a blanket.

  Upon entering, he knew immediately that Meriel had returned. The candle was out, but the hearth had been stoked and was now brighter than it had been. Though he could not see her directly, the firelight created a shadow of her form, curled up in one of the chairs. He closed the door, but the ghostly figure flickering on the wall did not move. Craig walked over to Meriel and confirmed that she had fallen asleep.

  He stared at his wife for several minutes, love for her filling every pore of his being. They were having problems, aye, but all problems had solutions. One just needed to look hard enough to find them.

  Smoothing back her hair, Craig could see dried tear tracks on her cheeks and he could feel his chest tighten. He had not been alone in his distress, but his thoughts for the past couple of hours had been focused solely on himself. Not her. He had not realized how busy she still was supporting her father and the castle. And though it was a complete failure, she had tried cooking dinner. Most girls grew up with their mothers teaching them how to be wives. Meriel’s mother died when she was young. Maybe he simply needed to be a little more patient as she learned how to take care of a home and husband.

  Sliding his arm underneath her, he carefully picked Meriel up and sat her on his lap, letting her head rest against his shoulder. He softly combed his fingers through her hair and smiled as he felt the damp tresses. He had been a fool to think she had run back home to the castle. His comments about her appearance must have inspired her to take a bath, just as her remarks about his body odor had driven him to the river for a quick dip.

  Craig kissed her temple. A small moan escaped Meriel as she nestled closer to him. The small gesture helped release the remaining tension in his body. She needed him. He needed her. They had each other, and as long as they did, everything else could be resolved in time.

  Meriel stirred. Her brows furrowed into a deep scowl, as if she were having a bad dream. Stroking her cheek, he whispered that all was fine. That he was there now and would not let anything happen to her.

  At the sound of his voice, Meriel began to shift from her dream world to reality. She was sitting on Craig’s lap—a place she did not want to be, though she could not recall why. As her last thoughts and his departing insults began to crystallize, she remembered exactly what he had said. And while she had wanted Craig to come home, she did not intend to let him smother her with kisses and lovemaking to gain her goodwill. She would not be complying with all of his suggestions. This time, he was going to have to exert some effort into making this marriage work as well.

  Pushing against his chest, Meriel attempted to get up, but Craig’s arms tightened, keeping her in place. The fact that he not only could, but would force her to his will, made her feel nauseated for the umpteenth time that day. She thought about trying again to put some distance between them, but knowing the effort would be pointless, she sagged against his chest and began to cry. Tears slowly found their way down her cheeks using previously defined paths, and once again Meriel found herself getting mad that she was weeping when she had every right to be angry.

  “Shhh, there, love,” Craig whispered against her ear. “Don’t worry about the food.”

  Meriel blinked. Her throat swelled up and she thought she might choke. Did Craig actually think she was crying about her inability to cook dinner? The man had lost his mind if he thought that she cared about her skills, or lack of them, in the kitchen. “I’m not crying about the food,” she sniveled, angry again that her voice sounded meek and pathetic and nothing like the tone of her inner dialogue.

  “Then what is it that has you so upset?”

  Meriel hesitated. Part of her thought that if Craig had to ask, then what was the point of telling him? But she was not crying for one reason alone. Her days were filled with unceasing work. There was no time for her to enjoy any of her pastimes and she felt like everybody was clamoring to get a piece of her. She was doing her best, but it still did not seem to be good enough. “You’ll tell me that I am being ridiculous.”

  “I promise I will not.”

  Meriel yawned. “I don’t know how to explain it. Mostly, I’m tired all the time. It takes me forever to find energy in the morning and all of it is wasted on carrying water from the well. The other women have seen me struggle, and I know they are sympathetic, but they are busy with their own lives. By the time I am done getting ready for the day, all I want to do is lie down, and yet I have no time, for the weavers are waiting for me to get down to the castle.”

  Craig nodded against her head. “Water seems like a simple chore, but it can be demanding. You merely need to build up endurance. It will come with time. You will see.”

  “Mm-hmmm,” Meriel answered, barely tracking what he was saying.

  “And we’ve been eating at the castle for this long. I am sure your father will not mind feeding us a little longer until you learn how to cook.”

  “Father likes us to eat with him,” she said slowly, her voice fading as her exhaustion once again sent her back into a deep sleep.

  “I think I have found the solution to your problem,” Craig said with a hopeful heart. “You just need to slow down, and that starts with ending your work at the castle. You don’t have to do that anymore. That should help. Now, doesn’t that make you happy?”

  All he heard was a deep breath followed by a slow exhale. Craig smiled and lifted her in his arms and carried her to their bed. Tonight he would just hold her.

  Chapter 13

  As he approached the door to his home, Craig took a deep breath and opened the door. His heart sang as he inhaled the smell of bread and meats and ale on the table before him. Next to the scrumptious food was his wife, looking beautiful and serene. So overjoyed at the sight, he almost went back o
utside and started shouting words of praise to the Lord because, finally, his prayers had been answered.

  He carefully put down his things where they would not cause any harm and then placed a warm, loving kiss upon Meriel’s soft lips before sitting down on the empty chair next to her. Just by the smell, Craig knew the food had come from the castle, but as he reached over and began to pile food on his plate, he realized he no longer cared. Finally they were in sync. He had tried to speak with her in the morning about the solution to her problems with allocating her time, but she had refused to awaken before he left. Now he wondered if he even needed to. “So I assume you were right,” he said with smile, “and your father has no issues helping us with dinner while you learn how to cook.”

  Meriel was pulling a small piece of meat off a leg of lamb when Craig’s assumptions about their dinner hit her full force. Once again, Craig was telling her that he was not satisfied, that more change was warranted, and that none of that change was coming from him.

  Last night as she sat waiting for Craig to come home, she went over every conversation they had had since they were married. How she had missed his prejudiced definition of “wife,” Meriel was not quite sure, but she had. While she would agree that most of the soldiers’ wives did assume certain house-related responsibilities, it was only because it made sense for their circumstances. Never had it occurred to her that women cooked just because they were female. She doubted many of the women would respond very well to learning that their domestic responsibilities were assigned solely on the basis of their sex.

  “Aye, Father is very accommodating, though he would like us to eat there every once in awhile as we learn how to cook.”

  Craig caught the emphasized “we” but truly did not understand what she meant. “I think we can arrange that,” he said cautiously.

  Meriel wrinkled her nose at the meat, suddenly not hungry. “Which part? The eating at the castle or you learning how to cook?”

  Craig started choking on a half-swallowed piece of fowl. He had not misheard. “I’m not learning how to cook,” he clarified.

  “And why not?” she challenged.

  “Because I’m a . . . a . . .” Meriel stared him directly in the eye, daring him to say “man.” “Because I am too damn busy!” he shouted.

  “I am just as busy with my work supporting this clan.”

  “Then tell your father and your sister that you quit,” he ordered, a little more forcefully than intended.

  “I have no intention of quitting. So if I must learn new skills to make this marriage work, then so must you. I am not your servant.”

  “No, you are my wife,” he growled ominously.

  Craig could once again feel anger starting to edge its way into the conversation, and he fought to keep it pushed down. For once, they were not going to have a huge fight before they went to bed. Still, Meriel’s accusation that he thought her a servant simply because he wanted her to learn how to cook and support their household like every other woman did, riled him enormously. He was not being ridiculous! Compared to other husbands he knew and had overheard talking, he expected very little!

  “Aye, I am your wife. I also happen to be a working wife who is responsible for more than taking care of a single household.”

  “Other women choose not to work until their young can help their mothers at home,” Craig responded through gritted teeth.

  Meriel took a deep breath and prayed for calm. “You and I seem to have fallen into some kind of communication trap. I think because we seem to know each other so well, we thought we knew everything. So, let me be clear, Craig. I respect women who raise children and take care of their homes. I always have, and after the past few weeks, even more so. But I have always supported this clan, and I will continue to do so until I am no longer able. It is who I am, and you knew this before we married.”

  Craig fought to keep his voice as calm as possible. “I assumed you would realize that you would have to refocus on the needs of your husband, placing them above those of your father and the clan.”

  “Just because I have not catered to your needs as you imagined I would, does not mean that you are not the most important person in my life.” Meriel rose to her feet and took a step closer to him. Bending down, she gave him a small kiss on the cheek. “Enjoy your dinner. I’m exhausted. I think I will lie down for a bit, if you do not mind.”

  Craig sat there dumbfounded as Meriel sauntered from the table through the kitchen area to their bedroom, leaving him alone to eat. How were they ever going to resolve all their problems if Meriel kept refusing to implement his solutions?

  “Mo creach,” he muttered under his breath. He was out of ideas.

  Thankfully, there was one person nearby who might be able to help him. His brother. For if anyone would understand his quandary it would be Crevan. Being married to the fiercely independent Raelynd, the man must have encountered this type of situation before. Probably daily, knowing his sister-in-law.

  Craig got up and quietly left the cottage. Aye, if anyone had the answer to getting Schellden women to understand their roles as Highland wives, it would be his brother.

  Craig found himself feeling overwhelmingly jealous. Of his brother, of all people. Which made it all the worse. Never had he been jealous of his twin. And to his knowledge Crevan had never been jealous of him either. They had been best friends all their lives, taking advantage of and leaning on each other when it came to their different personalities and ways of thinking. But jealous? And yet, Craig found himself overcome with it.

  “Never?” he repeated, still finding it hard to believe that Crevan did not fight with his wife. How? The woman was only slightly less obstinate than Meriel, and Crevan lacked Craig’s good-natured disposition. If anything, the two should have been explosive.

  Craig stood up and began to pace. “Meriel and I fight all the time,” he confessed reluctantly.

  “Of course you do.” Crevan shrugged his shoulders and stretched out his legs. The posture practically announced that all was well within his world and it made Craig only more agitated. “All couples f-fight their f-first year. You did not think you w-would be the exception?”

  Aye. I did, Craig admitted, but only to himself. “How did you get to escape this torture?”

  Crevan laughed heartily. “Escape? Raelynd and I f-fought practically daily about everything. Even in that month before w-we married, w-w-we got so angry at each other that now that I look back, it is amazing that I sit here right now, happy as I am. But don’t misunderstand. I said w-we did not f-fight, not that w-w-we don’t argue. Difference is that w-we try to re-f-frain f-from yelling—though Raelynd has a hard time w-with that on certain subjects—and, umm, w-w-well, as much as you w-won’t like to hear it, neither of us goes to bed angry or leaves in the middle of a . . . uh, discussion.”

  If those condemning words had come from anyone else, Craig might have been tempted to take physical steps to ensure they would never be uttered again. But Crevan was unique. Only he and Meriel could correct him without fear of retaliation. Still, usually such censure would have at least pricked Craig’s pride, raising his ire. Tonight, he just felt helpless because he knew his brother was correct, but at the same time, he still had no clear path away from his troubles.

  “Before we got married, Meriel and I were so in tune we did not need to talk. We each seemed to understand what the other needed. And while it is still like that on most things . . . when it comes to living together . . . well, simply put, she is most aggravating.”

  Crevan reached back and intertwined his fingers behind his head and stared at his brother thoughtfully. “I’m sorry you are not f-finding the marital bliss that I have discovered.”

  “Oh, I find it,” Craig corrected. “Every night. My problem is that I lose it again by morning. Meriel just refuses to accept her role! She is my wife. I want to help her, but she won’t listen to anything I suggest!”

  Crevan raised a single brow into a high, incredulous arch. �
��Maybe . . . she doesn’t like w-what you have to say.”

  Craig shot him an evil look, well-practiced after years of being so close. “I doubt you would be saying that if it was Raelynd who knew not the first thing about cooking or cleaning.”

  The bubble of laughter Crevan had been suppressing erupted. “Raelynd has not the f-f-first idea about cooking. She might know a little about cleaning after last year and what Laurel and Aileen did to her, but I suspect if she really had to do any of the w-work herself, the results w-would be f-f-far f-from pleasant.”

  Craig narrowed his gaze and waved his hand around, his gesture referring to the castle at large. “You expect me to believe that? Your false words bring me no comfort.”

  “Every w-word I say is true.”

  “And you don’t care that Raelynd cannot cook?”

  Crevan turned his head slightly at the odd question. “W-what w-would it change if she did? Her having the skill holds no purpose in either of our lives.”

  Craig grimaced. “Meriel and I don’t live at the castle—”

  “By choice. O-o-one that Rae is still not happy about, by the w-way.”

  “Newly married couples need freedom.” And privacy, Craig added to himself.

  Crevan pulled himself upright and then leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees. “I understand. Believe me on that o-one, I truly do. It took a w-while to establish some boundaries w-with Rae, but he now respects our privacy as he does yours, by the w-way. Otherw-wise, you w-would be seeing him every night at your doorstep. He may not like that you have elected to live in the village, but he respects your and Meriel’s right to make such a decision.”