Highlander's Trials of Fire: A Steamy Scottish Historical Romance Novel
Page 14
Matthew frowned at her. She did not sound snippy. She sounded genuine, almost wistful.
“Why?” he asked. “Ye always spend all yer time outdoors.”
“I ken.” She sighed. “It isnae easy sayin’ this, ye ken.”
“Does it have anythin’ to do with what happened last night?”
He held his breath as he stared at her, waiting for her to answer. She stared out in front of her, keeping her expression distant. He could not tell what it meant, he expected a yes or no to his question. If she were to tell him that she was being so distant because of how far they had taken things last night, he didn’t know what he would do.
“Aye,” she said, so softly that he prayed he heard wrong. “Last night we… took it a little farther than I thought we would.”
Matthew nodded, mostly to himself. He tried to absorb the information as best as he could, but it was difficult hearing such a thing when it was clear she was regretting it. He had been so confident that she wanted him as much as he did her. Even if she refused to say so, even if she made it clear that she still did not wish to marry, when they were wrapped up in each other’s arms like that, he was certain she wanted him. Perhaps… all this time it had been his own hubris, and that was what led to this.
“But, it isnae yer fault,” she said suddenly, drawing his attention. She leaned back on her hands, looking up at the clouds drifting above. “It’s me own indecisiveness that’s been plaguin’ me.”
“What do ye mean?”
She sighed. The sound was so filled with burden, Matthew’s heart broke a little. “I dinnae expect to like ye so much. Aye, ye’re nae as bad as I thought ye were, but even so, I dinnae think I would… feel the way that I do. Last night, it had felt so… natural. So easy.”
“And that scared ye.”
“Aye,” she breathed, as if she were finally letting go of that burdensome tidbit of truth. “It really terrified me.” She turned to face him, her brown eyes shining with uncertainty. “Do ye ken about me last two betroths?”
“Aye, I heard a bit,” he told her.
“Murdock was me first. I truly loved him. He was every bit the man I wanted. So sweet, and handsome, and kind. And he was playful enough for me likin’. I fell for him so hard and I was already imaginin’ me life with him.”
Matthew nodded along, ignoring the throes of jealousy that overcame him. He had known from the very start that Jonet had been betrothed twice before. It should not have bothered him this much.
She went on, oblivious to his rising feeling. “When he died… it broke me in more ways than one. I couldnae eat. Couldnae sleep. Couldnae do anythin’ without breakin’ down into a fit of tears. I mourned for almost two years before I finally started comin’ back to meself. And then, three years after his death, Henry came along.”
Matthew watched the sadness drift into her voice, the brokenness into her eyes. She was reliving those moments again, he could see it. The very ones that had shaped her views on marriage to this day. The ones that had brought about those terrible rumors.
“He was dashin’ in every sense of the word,” she told him. “He was very… determined to have me as his wife and I, well, I thought I had mourned enough. Though I dinnae think I would ever get over Murdock’s death, I kent it was in me best interest to court him. For the future of the Lairdship and for me heart. I dinnae love him the way I loved Murdock, but he was kind and handsome and he treated me so well that I kent I would be happy. And then, he died. Disappeared while huntin’ they say, but I kent what it meant.”
Her eyes filled with tears. Matthew longed to reach out, to gather her in his arms, but he knew she had to get everything out first.
“After that, I promised meself I would never marry again. Even before I knew of the rumors, I thought I was cursed. Murdock had died in his sleep, a perfectly healthy man. And Henry, a man who had been huntin’ since he was a wee child, disappeared so suddenly right after bein’ betrothed to me. I couldnae deny that I had somethin’ to do with it. Somehow, I kent that it was me fault and I couldnae let it happen to anyone else.”
“Jonet, none of that was yer—”
“I ken, I ken,” she spoke with insistence. “The sane part of me mind kens that it was truly a coincidence. But… I was afraid. The pain I’d been through over the past six years had been so terrible that I never wanted to feel like that again. So, I suppose I clung to the thought that I was cursed, because that way, I could save meself from any more pain. I could use it to chase away any suitors.”
“Ye were afraid of bein’ hurt again.”
The tears finally spilled over, rushing down her now flushed cheeks. She did not sniffle and refused to wipe them away. She just continued. “I ken ye said that I shouldnae worry about ye and the arrow was most likely from a hunter, but I cannae help myself.”
Matthew reached out a grasped her hand. He would not tell her about the wine. That would only make her more concerned and that was the last thing she needed right now.
“I think about the pain I went through when Murdock died,” she continued, “and the thought that I might go through that again—”
She broke. Completely broke, and he instantly gathered her in his arms. Jonet sobbed against his chest, gripping his shirt as her tears soaked through. “I-I’m sorry.”
“Daenae apologize,” he said tenderly. He broke. Her tears, her sob… it brought in to focus how real her pain was. Yet he had come here to exploit it, just to get what he wanted. Guilt coursed through him, but he tampered it, focusing instead on what he could do for her now.
“I daenae usually cry like this,” she murmured. She tried to pull away though he would not let her go.
“Cry all ye want, Jonet. Ye have every reason to.” He stroked her hair. “It’s just us. Ye can let it all out.”
“I shouldnae be cryin’ so much,” she relaxed in his arms. “I’ve had six years to get over it.”
“And now ye think there is a chance ye might have to relive it all over again. Anyone would be afraid.” He pulled away, tilting her chin up so she could look at him. Even with red-rimmed eyes and puffy cheeks, she was a vision that hit him straight in the gut. With both lust and guilt. “It’s completely understandable.”
She sniffled, peering back up at him. “And you daenae think I’m bein’ completely irrational?”
“Maybe a little—” At her narrowing eyes, he chuckled. He pressed a kiss on her forehead, to smooth it away. “I daenae think ye’re being irrational at all. You have every reason to avoid me. But,” he kissed her there again, “I willnae let that happen. Yer heart willnae be broken again.”
“I hope nae.”
He bent his head lower and captured her lips with his. She didn’t pull away; didn’t stiffen despite all she had said. Jonet leaned into him instead and as he tasted her salty tears on her lips, he made himself a promise that he would never hurt her.
She pulled away, a faint smile on her face. “Is givin’ me a kiss yer solution to everythin’?”
“It is very effective, daenae ye think?”
“A bit,” she murmured with a confirmative nod. Matthew was simply happy she was not pulling away from his arms. “Ye have a way with words, Matthew, and with yer lips.”
“My, my, Jonet, how naughty of ye to say.”
“I may be a little wild in more ways than one.”
Her words punched him straight in the gut. Matthew watched her grin, as if she heard the moment his heart started pounding. Before he could say anything, she let out a wide yawn.
“I dinnae sleep much last night,” she stated, shifting over. She rested her head on his lap. “I’m exhausted.”
“Ye intend to sleep right here?” he asked, surprised.
She turned her head to look up at him with a raised brow. “Aye, do ye have a problem with that? Or are there other things ye would rather do?”
Why am I getting’ so flustered all a sudden? I’ve never felt this way before.
She stared at him
expectantly as if she knew exactly what he was thinking… and was secretly enjoying it. Matthew swallowed, trying to bring himself back together. It suddenly felt as if she had taken control of the game he had been playing and now he was the victim.
I shouldnae have made her a victim in the first place.
That guilt came rushing back even as he nodded. “Sleep. It’s clear that ye need it.”
“How kind of ye to say,” she murmured, her lips lifting as she turned her head and closed her eyes. Her hair blanketed around her and he brushed a few loose strands from her cheek.
Jonet released a deep breath, her face going slack. He stared at her for a few moments and, before long, her breathing grew even and deep. She had already fallen asleep.
Matthew’s heart was still pounding. He lifted a hand to his chest in an effort to calm it, his mind racing. Now, he was beginning to regret everything he had done.
Almost everything he had said since the moment they had met had been to make her fall for him. So that they could be married, and so he could have what he truly wanted, but Matthew did not want to do that anymore. He wanted to be truthful, he wanted to show her that his feelings were genuine.
When did they become genuine?
That was another mystery he did not know how to unearth, but as he gazed down at her beautiful, sleeping face, he knew that he was beginning to fall in love with her. There was no denying it. He wanted her, which was expected when he was before such a beautiful woman. But he wanted her heart as well, her trust, her confidence. He wanted every bit of Jonet MacTavish, as much as she was willing to give.
Without warning, his mind drifted to the wine he had tossed out that morning. The memory of it made him uneasy, not knowing what to make of it. After what happened with the arrow, Matthew could not just write it off as a coincidence. With all that had happened with Jonet, he had to wonder if perhaps he too was falling prey to her curse.
She has nay curse. It is all a coincidence. The men who died and the wine this mornin’ are all just weird coincidences that I shouldnae linger on.
Yet the uneasy feeling did not go away. He stroked Jonet’s hair, hoping that it would help calm him, but it didn’t help much. The future was suddenly hazy in light of all that had happened, but Matthew told himself one thing. As long as he could have Jonet in the end, it would all work out well.
Chapter 17
The moment they arrived back at the Castle, Jonet went straight to the scullery. She had a hop in her step from her small nap by the pool and having Matthew with her the entire trip back made her feel worlds better than before. He did not have to say anything, even though he made sure to fill the silence. His very presence was comfort enough and Jonet couldn’t be happier.
Which was why she was going to settle his debt to him.
She found Christal scouring pots in the corner of the room. She hummed loudly to herself, while the other kitchen maids went about preparing the meat for dinner. Jonet gave them kind smiles before she approached Christal.
“The distance between ye and the others is very obvious,” she said by way of greeting.
Christal only cast them a disdainful look. “I think they might be gossipin’ about me. What about, I havenae a clue.”
Jonet leaned a hip against the counter, folding her arms. She regarded Christal with mirth, “Would ye like me to go tell them a piece of me mind?”
“I daenae need ye to fight me battles,” Christal grumbled, but she kept her eyes on the kitchen hands, who did not seem to notice the burning gaze in their backs. Jonet laughed.
“I daenae doubt it. Now, I have come to ask for yer help.”
Christal broke her concentrated stare to look up at Jonet in question, though she did not break the steady rhythm of her scrubbing. “What do ye need me help for? Daenae tell me ye plan to try yer hand in the kitchen again?”
“It wouldnae do well for the daughter of the Laird to give up so easily, daenae ye think? I would like to attempt making sweet cakes again.”
“If ye try it one more time, I fear ye might set the entire scullery on fire.”
“Yer faith in me is quite wonderful, Christal,” Jonet grumbled. She stood straight, clapping her hands energetically. “Let’s go, shall we? I would like to have it done before Matthew is finished spendin’ time with me Faither.”
Christal heaved a great sigh. She stood to her feet and rubbed her wet hands on the skirt of her dress. Flicking a sweaty lock of hair out of her face, she said, “How much time do ye think we have? I reckon it’ll take a few hours before ye’ll get this right.”
“I daenae ken what Faither and Matthew plans to do,” Jonet admitted. “When we returned to the Castle, Faither requested his presence in his study. But since I ken me Faither, I think he might have dragged Matthew along with him to go huntin’ again. Which means we might have about three hours or so before they come back.”
“All right, wonderful!” Jonet continued. “Now, I ken I’ve always told ye that I wanted to do it meself, but I daenae think I have that luxury anymore.”
“Aye, aye, let’s just hope me assistance will result in somethin’ decent this time.”
Jonet pouted a little at Christal’s complete lack of faith, but she hardly blamed her. Every time she approached the scullery, she would boldly declare that today was the day she would make something delicious all on her own. Yet every time, her mind would wander off and she would fail miserably. Jonet thought it might be because she would simply get a little too overexcited and Christal’s presence would be able to easily tamper that nasty habit.
“Since ye have bad history with flour, I will give ye the task of preparing the butter. Ye think ye can do that?”
Jonet rolled her eyes. “I’m nae a child, Christal.”
“Aye, I can see that. Ye have been spendin’ a lot of time with Mr. McDulaigh, havenae ye?”
Unable to help herself, Jonet blushed. She focused on the bowl Christal had handed her. “Since we are courtin’, it only makes sense that we would.”
“Aye, but it is odd considerin’ that ye were so determined to be rid of him just a short while ago.”
“Well… I suppose I can admit that he is nae the man I thought he was. He is kind, different, like nay one I have ever kent before. And, somehow, he manages to make me feel safe whenever I—” Jonet broke off suddenly when she realized what she was doing. Now, her entire face was red, and she tried to hide it from Christal’s knowing look.
“Oh, daenae stop on me account. Ye were about to say how handsome and dreamy he is?”
“Any woman with eyes should be able to see that,” Jonet grumbled. “It is nothin’ special if I say it too.”
Christal tilted her head back and laughed. She had already started on kneading the flour, a task that was much less messy when it was in her capable hands. Or anyone’s hands save for Jonet’s.
“Then, that would explain why ye are so determined to bake for him,” Christal’s chuckle faded. “I havenae seen this spark in yer eyes in a while, Jonet. I hope it never disappears again.”
Jonet paused, looking at Christal. “I gave ye a hard time with all the worryin’, dinnae I?”
“Aye, you did,” Christal spoke without hesitation. “Ye almost made me think ye would die alone.”
“Really? I never thought ye were the type to care if a woman has a husband or nae.”
“I’m nae,” she said. Jonet glanced down at her deft fingers molding the dough so perfectly and felt a twinge of envy. “But it’s clear as day that ye arenae that type of woman. Ye have a romantic soul and ye were only lettin’ yer fears get the best of ye. Which worried me as well considerin’ ye were always the one to run headlong into danger without a care in the world. Almost gave Lady MacLagain a heart attack, a few times.”
“Aye, she never fails to remind me. I am nae longer so rash, however.”
“Ye are,” Christal insisted. “But in a different way than before. Which is good. Ye are growin’ into a fine woman.”
To that, Christal just turned her head away from Jonet in disgust. “Ye have a spoon! How did ye manage to get butter on yer hands?”
Jonet laughed, pulling away from her. That was something she could not answer. “It is only one of me many charms. I suppose. Now, I think I’m done with this. What else would ye have me do?”
Laird MacLagain was such an upbeat and energetic person that it was hard not to like him. He seemed to take life as it was given to him, making the best of all the time he had. When Matthew had first met him, he wondered how such a carefree Laird managed to rule his clan well, thinking that perhaps there was someone doing work in the background. Now he was certain that Laird MacLagain was every bit as good a Laird as he was a good man.