Tuck had to work hard at not growling like John. Declan, according to Willoughby, was quite the lady’s man. And Tuck’s past sins came back and smacked him in the chest, making him feel awful. He was starting to have an inkling of what he’d put Brodie through, when Rachel and Brodie were in the thick of things and trying to work it out between them.
Sophie’s eyes beamed. She’d baited the hook, and dammit, Tuck had snapped at it. But then her eyes fell on Ryn’s worried face. “Nay. I believe Declan is too busy with repairing the cottages. No worries. I’ll be happy to check in on you.”
Immediately, Tuck’s breathing calmed.
Ryn’s features calmed, too. “Thank you. I’m really sorry for any trouble you went to, getting the room ready for me.”
“No trouble at all for me,” Sophie laughed. “I had Rowena do it. I quite enjoy being the Laird’s wife.”
“If it’s okay, I’ll drive Ryn to her cottage now,” Tuck said to Sophie. “I’m sure she’s anxious to lie down.”
“I’ll fix ye both plates and send them up for you.” Sophie patted the van and shut the side door, leaving Ryn still sitting in the back. “Tuck?”
“Yes?”
“Let me know if she needs anything, will ye?”
“I will.”
“And Tuck? I think ye’re making a wise choice.”
Shocked, Tuck didn’t respond, but climbed into the vehicle. He should’ve disagreed. He knew exactly why Sophie had gotten the wrong idea about him and the American lass. He’d been too attentive, too possessive, acting too much like Ryn was his. He stared out at Sophie, who only waved back as if she’d nailed him with the truth. Which pissed him off! He put his hand on the door handle, ready to hop out and set her straight. I haven’t made any choice! But like a quilt thrown over a fire, the truth blanketed him and extinguished his denial. Aye. I guess I have.
He put the vehicle in gear and drove away, feeling for the first time in a long time, safe with a woman.
“Tuck?” Ryn said.
“Yes, lass?”
“Thanks for taking me home.”
* * *
John wanted to roar. Why couldn’t they leave him the hell alone? He hated the people of Whussendale and his family making a fuss over him…making a fuss because he was an effing one-armed man.
Dand tugged on his sleeve as they walked across the driveway toward the castle. “Da, will ye take me fishing on the loch? The Laird took me and I caught a brown trout.”
Maggie jumped in and saved him from answering. “Not now, Dand. We have the party, remember?” She gave John a saccharine smile and he hated that, too. His accident had turned Maggie into a different person. She never would’ve put up with his shit moods before. She would’ve made him straighten up weeks ago.
“Party?” John would rather attend a funeral right now than a party.
Hugh put his hand on John’s shoulder, the one that had a complete arm below it. “Aye, we set up the dining room.”
“I made party hats!” Dand said excitedly.
“Let’s head in.” Hugh left him and joined Sophie at the bottom of the steps.
The crowd surrounded John as they made their way to the castle. It felt effing claustrophobic.
Coira, unfortunately, positioned herself next to him.
Oh gawd! What now? She’d never had a good word for him, since he’d set his eyes on Maggie when they were young.
“Ye look awful, John,” she said, right on cue. “Do ye think it’s the hospital food that did it to ye?”
Nay. More than likely it’s the present company, but John kept the sentiment to himself.
“Mum, he looks fine,” Maggie said, squeezing his arm.
But she wasn’t fooling him. Maggie couldn’t be taking it well that Coira had come to help. The old badger never had a good word for anyone, likely the reason Lyel up and died. She’d probably harped on him one too many times and he decided to end it all by running his auto into a tree. Lucky Lyel.
John wasn’t proud of the mean thought, but it entertained him, and nothing had entertained him since his own accident.
But he did feel sorry for the lassies—Maggie, Rowena, and Sinnie. Their relationship with their parents had never been smooth sailing. Lyel was no prince—drank too much, caroused some, too—and the women knew it. Coira, included. Maybe that’s why she was such a hard woman to deal with.
John followed the crowd into Kilheath Castle. What a behemoth! Ostentatious, too. A far cry from a fisherman’s cottage.
Maggie leaned into him. “The Laird is in the process of having one of the larger cottages fixed up for us.”
“I may be as weak as a babe,” John said in a fierce whisper. “But I’ll not take charity. Laird or no.”
“Nay,” Maggie said, but she seemed embarrassed. “It’s a benefit of heading up the Whussendale Kilts and Quilts Retreat.”
He didn’t say more. He was afraid if he did, he’d yell at them all. He was sick to death of everyone making decisions for him as if he was an invalid, a powerless man. But the truth was, that was exactly the way they saw him. Exactly the man he’d become.
Hugh pointed up. “Maggie, why don’t ye show John to your room? Mrs. McNabb said tea will be ready in fifteen minutes.”
Reluctantly, John climbed the stairs behind Maggie.
Dand raced ahead. “My room is the best. ‘Cept I have to share it with baby Irene.”
Maggie looked at John over her shoulder. “Their room is right next to ours.”
Was Maggie getting used to this high-living? John never imagined his wife being satisfied in a place like this. And yet, she seemed at home, chatting to him as if they owned the place. Hell, the best he’d ever done for them was to buy his mother and father’s cottage for them. But now, with one arm and the promise he’d made Maggie, he couldn’t fish, provide for them. Not even give his family something as nominal as their life back in Gandiegow in their own fisherman’s cottage.
On the second floor, Dand ran down the hall and opened a door. “This is my room, Da. Come see.”
John made his way down and peeked inside. The room was four times bigger than his bedroom at home.
“We’re in here,” Maggie said at the next opened door. “There’s a washroom en suite for us.”
John nodded and entered. The canopy bed was draped in some fancy red pattern. The windows were covered with the same fabric. The room was big and open, and John couldn’t breathe.
“The toilet is through there,” Maggie said, pointing at a door.
John headed for it and closed the door behind him. He looked in the mirror and hated who he saw. How am I going to survive this? The pain in the middle of the night from his phantom arm was nothing compared to this.
He lost track of time. Maggie knocking on the door, brought him back to the next torturous thing he had to do.
“It’s time to go down for tea.”
He opened the door to see her anxious face gazing back.
“Are ye going to be okay?”
“Aye.” But it was a lie.
When they got downstairs and into the dining room, once again Dand ran toward him with Irene right behind. This time Dand held out a folded paper hat.
“Here, Da, I have yere hat.” But Dand was coming in too fast, and the marble floor was too slick for his stockinged feet. He slid and stopped himself by reaching up and grabbing John’s nub of an arm, protected only by the Ace bandage sleeve.
The pain was searing and John yelled, “Owwwh!” All of his emotions rose to the top and came tumbling out. “Dammit, Dand! What the hell is wrong with you?”
Irene came to a halt, her eyes wide. Then she burst into tears, wailing, as if John had spanked her.
Dand’s eyes were swollen with tears, too. “I didn’t mean—.”
“Just stop it!” John yelled. “All of you! Just stop it!”
The words reverberated throughout and the room went silent. He absorbed their expression of horror in torturous slow-motion, knowing he could never
come back from what he’d done. And, by God, he just wouldn’t give a damn anymore!
Maggie stood gobsmacked, frozen, certainly unable to pretend now that everything was all right and things were going to be unicorns and rainbows from here on out.
Sophie and Hugh looked embarrassed and at a loss for words. Ross stared at the floor. The various townsfolk glanced at each other awkwardly.
Dand and Irene ran to Maggie, as if she was the shelter against the storm. She picked up the wailing Irene and Dand buried his face in her dress, while she wrapped comforting arms around them both.
But it was Coira who found her voice first and marched up to John, wagging her finger in his face. “John Armstrong, ye can’t yell at my grandchildren like that.”
Aye, even a father’s right has been taken away from me now.
Sophie and Hugh ushered the others out of the room. Ross retrieved his niece and nephew, shushing them gently as they made their way across the room. He shut the door behind him. John was grateful to his brother to not be on display anymore—the one-armed man being taken down a peg by a four-eleven banshee.
Coira turned on Maggie then. “And you! Why are ye pussyfooting around yere own husband? He’s not a simple-minded man. He’s not an invalid.”
For the first time, he had some respect for Coira. But then she carried on.
“He’s a bully! That’s what he is! And ye better take care of it! ’Tis not my job to show him the right of things. ’Tis yeres.” Coira stopped then, her hard expression crumbling. Maybe she was thinking about how she couldn’t change her own husband, Lyel.
Tears streamed down Maggie’s ever-growing red face and she glared at her mother with the long practice of a journeyman. “Out, Mum!”
“Fine. I need my peace and quiet. My husband just died,” Coira muttered as she left, too.
John was alone with his wife. Between fishing and the kids, they’d spent more time alone together since his accident, than in all the years of their marriage. But he had no intention of being alone with Maggie now. He put his hand up. “Don’t say a word.” He already despised himself as it was. He didn’t need a lecture from her to drive the point home of how horrible he’d become.
Maggie shook her head. “I’ve something to say, and ye’re not to silence me.” She took a shaky deep breath, as if all the hurt was bubbling up inside her, a stew of pain and betrayal. He’d done this to her, but God, he didn’t want to hear her put it into words.
She did anyway. “I’ve put up with ye, because ye’re my husband and I love ye. But I’ve had enough. Ye’ll not take yere black mood out on us anymore. This thing, John—.” she waved her hands in the air to encompass him, “—just didn’t happen to you. It happened to all of us. We’ve all been affected.”
Her eyes dropped to the floor to the crumpled hat Dand had offered him. She leaned over and picked it up. “Dand wanted to do something special for ye. We all worked hard to make this a good welcome home just for you. But ye’ve spoiled it.”
Maggie seemed more like herself than she had in weeks, her voice holding no room for compromise. He may now be dead inside, but at least the woman he’d married hadn’t completely disappeared. He could see she was back and he was glad of it.
He stared at the floor, shaking his head. “I agree with ye. I have ruined everything. I’ve no excuse, except my heart has turned black. Stop wasting yere time on me, Maggie. I just want to be alone.”
Maggie moved toward him. “Ye don’t mean that.”
He put his hand up once again. “I do.” He looked her square in the eyes so she could see there was no room for concession in his words either.
As he left the dining room, he didn’t look back. The guest of honor had wrecked the party, end of story. And John was completely to blame for ruining his own life. He knew Maggie blamed Tuck, but John had known better than to work the winch drum alone. He didn’t know when he’d started taking responsibility for the accident, but at least now, he was man enough to admit it. He’d heard enough tragic stories over the years, about stubborn fisherman working alone, and now he was one of the cautionary tales.
He returned upstairs to the room Maggie had shown him. But he didn’t find solace. He was imprisoned—an otter who’d gotten caught in a trap and there was no way out.
Maggie didn’t come after him, either. He sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the wall. Later, he heard rustling in the room next to his, but there were no sounds of happy children, no playing, and no giggling as should be. Not long afterward, a tap sounded on the door.
“John?”
It was Sophie. He wasn’t surprised when it wasn’t his own wife.
“I’ve brought ye a tray. Can I bring it in?”
“No,” he said firmly. “I’m not hungry.” Hate had killed his appetite.
“All right.”
He got up then and went into the bathroom and filled a cup with water. He drank it down, the cool liquid not washing away the bitterness which consumed his insides. Self-hate begat self-hate, and had him hating himself more.
Five minutes later, there was another knock.
“It’s Hugh,” came through the door. “Let me in.”
John could ignore Sophie, but it was never wise to ignore the Laird. Especially now, that John was part of his community. He opened the door.
Hugh frowned at him. “I don’t care if ye’re not hungry. Ye have to eat.” He walked across the room and set the tray on the small writing table by the window.
John wanted to ask after Maggie and the children, but didn’t.
Hugh crossed his arms over his chest. “John, there’s something ye need to know.”
“What?”
“Maggie has packed up. She and the kids are gone.”
17
Tuck quietly shut the door behind him as Ryn slept. He was concerned about leaving her alone, but he wanted to gather food for her from the castle, and he’d agreed to help Declan for a bit with the new plumbing for John and Maggie’s cottage. All this had to be completed in the next couple of hours before Ryn woke and needed him.
Any other day, he would’ve walked to Kilheath, but Ross would need the van to get back to Gandiegow. Also, driving to the castle made his errand go faster. When he arrived outside the kitchen doors, Maggie was exiting with her subdued children in tow.
She stopped short, staring at him as if weighing her options. And everything felt wrong about the scene. Her face was drained and her upper lip trembled, as if she’d met with yet another tragedy. Her eyes were red and nearly swollen shut from crying. Dand usually had the energy of a hundred lads, but he held his mother’s hand as if he was a quiet, demure boy. Baby Irene sucked her thumb, lying against her mother’s chest…she’d been crying, too.
What had happened while I was at Ryn’s cottage?
Maggie walked toward Tuck with her brow furrowed. She acted as if she’d have to endure another lump. “Take me to Gandiegow,” she ordered.
Tuck opened his mouth to say I can’t, but a completely different statement tumbled out. “Are you all right? What’s happened?”
“I need to get to Gandiegow. Now.” She glared at him as if to say, You owe me this much!
And she was right. Tuck did owe her.
“Give me a second to tell Sophie where I’ve gone.” He would also text Declan that the plumbing would have to wait.
Tuck ran inside and found Sophie in the parlor, sitting in front of her therapy light, looking upset, too. Either too much company or the overcast day had gotten to her.
“Why does Maggie want me to take her to Gandiegow,” he asked.
Sophie’s eyebrows pinched together. “All hell broke loose. John blew up in front of us. Then Maggie and John had a terrible row.”
“Where’s Ross?” Tuck asked. “He could take Maggie and the kids, couldn’t he?”
Sophie’s eyes shot him the you’re-out-of-luck expression. “Ross and Hugh ran off to Here Again Farm, leaving the children with me. Hugh said something a
bout being needed for the lambing. I’m pretty sure those two fabricated an excuse so they could escape what was going on here.”
“Are you okay?” Tuck asked.
“I’ll be fine.” She glanced at her therapy lamp as if it was all she needed. “Ye’ll take Maggie, then?”
“Aye. But what about Maggie’s things? Surely, that one suitcase she has isn’t all her possessions.”
“She didn’t want to go back into the room with John in it.”
“I see.” The Armstrongs were a mess and Tuck felt more guilty than he had before.
“Their arguing is not yere fault,” Sophie said. “It’s none of our faults. It’s just the way of things.”
“I know,” he said, but he still felt responsible. “I better go. Can you do me a favor? Or get someone to do it for me?”
“Anything,” Sophie said.
“Please deliver food to Ryn’s cottage for me? She’s asleep at the moment, but I wanted to make sure she wants for nothing when she wakes.”
“Of course, I’ll look after Ryn until ye get back.”
“Thank you.” Tuck saw a pen and paper lying on the side table. He grabbed it and scratched out a note. “Can ye also give this to Ryn?”
“Sure,” Sophie said with a knowing smile.
Tuck wound his way back through the castle, worrying about the drive to Gandiegow. This would be his second trip today wrought with awkwardness because of an Armstrong. More trials. More penance for me to pay. But he owed Maggie and John.
The thought of Ryn traipsed through Tuck’s mind and he felt better. At least things seemed to be good between them. He’d keep the American lass present in his thoughts to get him through the van ride ahead. Also, going to Gandiegow would give him a chance to pick up Ryn’s overnight bag from the room over the pub. That was a consolation.
When he walked into the kitchen to leave, Maggie’s mother Coira was trying unsuccessfully to push a large trunk through the doorway to the outside.
Tuck rushed to her. “Here, let me help ye with that.”
Coira looked up in surprise. “Good. Finally, a strong man to come to the rescue.” She stood back and held the door open for him.
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