After the Storm

by Tia Isabella

  Maya gazed up at her husband and frowned. “You are not thinking of travelling to my former time, are you?”

  He shook his head. “Nay. I am no’ that daft.”

  She released a worried breath and smiled. “Thank God for that.”

  “Why thank God?”

  “Because I’m not foolish enough to think that we would get lucky every time we used the black clouds. Fate might decide to deal a wicked hand and keep us from getting there, or keep us from getting back. We are fortunate indeed that Harold and Argyle made it to 2001 and back without incident.”

  Thomas agreed wholeheartedly and told her as much. “I would never try tae go, yet a part of me canna help but tae envy Harold and Argyle’s good fortune tae know of it.”

  Maya shook her head, letting him know that a glimpse into the future wasn’t worth all of the trouble intertwined with getting there. “Thomas, it really is no different there than it is here. People of my time want the same things, strive for the same types of goals, and so on. It’s just that we have more mechanisms in the future to strive toward our goals with.” She shrugged, realizing for the first time since her arrival that she really didn’t miss her former life in the slightest.

  Thomas grinned down to his wife, reaching for her hand to clasp it in his own. “Are ye just tellin’ me this tae make a mon feel better, lass, or do ye mean it true?”

  “I mean it, Thomas. And that’s a promise.”

  He nodded, accepting his lady’s words, knowing that he’d never live to see the day to prove her wrong anyway. He couldn’t chance leaving, never to return to his Highlands. This was home. And so much more a home now that he’d found his Maya and become a papa to his Angus and Beth. By the saints, how had he gotten so lucky?

  Thomas held on to his wife’s hand as he trotted next to her into the night. He gazed upward toward the starry heavens, silently thanking them for this most precious gift. ‘Twas a miracle that had brought his Maya to him. ‘Twas an even greater miracle that had given him her love.

  Aye, he decided, he truly was all things fortunate indeed. But why was this gift bestowed upon him in the first?

  He hadn’t any notion. And he didn’t really care to ponder it o’er much. Some things, he admitted to the stars twinkling above, were better off left to be appreciated in their simplicity.

  She was his and she loved him. ‘Twas all that mattered.

  Chapter 42

  “Don’t you ever think about marrying and having children of your own?”

  Maya put the question to Patrick as she strolled with him through the lower bailey. The Hamilton had been playing on the floor of the great hall with Angus and Beth when she had first spotted him this morning, a look of sheer and total longing for his own children writ across his handsome face. Patrick had risen to his feet and bowed to Maya upon seeing her, then begged the privilege of escorting her to her husband when she announced that she was going to go find and collect Thomas.

  Patrick squeezed Maya’s arm and winked down at her. “How can I think of marryin’ when the only woman I should want is already happily wed?”

  Maya grinned up to the charming Hamilton. “I’ll take that answer as a polite and poetic way of saying ‘no’ and telling me to mind my own business.”

  Patrick laughed heartily, delighted by her quick wit. “’Twould be most improper fer me tae tell ye whether or no’ I was jesting.”

  “True.”

  “But I will say this: aye, I do think aboot weddin’, aboot getting a wife with my bairn. I think aboot it much more now that I see how verra happy ye ha’ made the MacGregor.”

  “He’s makes me just as happy.”

  “I know that. Ye are fortunate, both of ye, tae be so blessed.” He smiled, pondering his feelings on the subject further. “Aye milady, I want the same fer myself.” He squeezed her arm again and whispered conspiratorially down to her. “So spare me the trouble of needin’ tae find her and find a lassie as comely and spirited as ye are fer me.”

  Maya chuckled. “Perhaps you should speak to Thomas about how much trouble a spirited wife causes him. The man lectures me nearly every day regarding something or another I’ve done to offend the masses.”

  Patrick chuckled, mentally imagining the vision of it. “Yet is he contented. A mon both blind and daft could see that much.”

  Maya tapped her finger against her cheek as she contemplated an idea that just popped into her brain. “You know something, Patrick? You’ve just set a task before me that will give me a much needed distraction. Something fun that doesn’t require picking up a needle and poking the blood out of my weary fingers for entertainment.”

  “Oh? And what might that be, lass?”

  Maya grinned. “I’m going to try to help you find a wife.”

  * * * * *

  Patrick stood in front of the window in the chamber he was occupying at Castle MacGregor and stared down into the courtyard below. Lady Maya was down there, directing servants as to where they should place the tables that were being dragged into the castle proper for the upcoming Hogmany feast. Her long golden curls pooled about her waist like a halo, giving off the effect that she was an angel, an ethereal visitor from the heavens.

  Or mayhap he was being o’erly romantic.

  Patrick sighed as he raked a self-loathing hand through his raven black hair. What was he about, lusting after his oldest and closest friend’s wife like an ill-mannered villein?

  Last eve the blonde serving wench called Nicola had ridden him to orgasm three times. She was comely enough, Nicola, yet the Hamilton had closed his eyes and pretended that ‘twas Maya’s body he was pumping his seed into. With each moan his thrusts elicited from the wench, he had allowed himself to believe that ‘twas Thomas’s wife lying beneath him, trembling in his arms, begging him to give her more of his thick cock.

  Never had Patrick been more turned on.

  Never had he been more disgusted with himself.

  Logically, he knew it was normal for an unwedded man to lust o’er a comely woman, married or no, but realizing that fact didn’t stop the heavy pangs of guilt that corded around his heart each time he thought about pleasuring himself with the MacGregor’s lady. Thomas was a good ally, a true friend. The only he’d ever known. And here he was, ready to sell his soul to the devil himself for even one night in a bed with Lady Maya.

  Patrick shook his head in disgust. What a wretch he was!

  Chapter 43

  Thomas rode his destrier swiftly through the hillside, no destination in mind. He needed to get out of the keep, needed to feel the wind at his back. And more than anything, he needed to get a reign on his fulminating temper.

  Something was going on in his home. Something wrong that shook him to the core of his very being. He was afraid to acknowledge his fears to himself, for it would make them seem more real. But he was beginning to fear, to truly believe, that his father’s unceremonious fate was to become his own. Only Angus’s fate had been an imagined one, whilst his might not be the musings of an overly fertile and possessive imagination.

  From the first of the Hamilton’s visit, Thomas had realized that his friend desired his wife. It was in Patrick’s every glance to Maya, in the way he would gaze upon her, undressing her with his eyes. It was evident in the way that he would cling to his wife’s every word, as though she were spewing forth knowledge sent directly from the heavens above.

  Thomas had said nothing, believing Patrick’s infatuation would soon pass, as all infatuations tend to do. But now he was left to wonder if he might have been wrong to do naught.

  Would he be forced to kill his best friend and lock his wife in the tower in order to avenge his honor? He closed his eyes against the pain, begging the saints to tell him it wasn’t so.

  For three days, the Hamilton had been avoiding him. And whenever Thomas did chance to run into him, he invariably found him at Maya’s skirts, tagging behind her like a besotted, untried lad.

  And then there was the eerie lack of eye
-to-eye contact exchanged between him and Patrick as of late. Every time his friend cast his gaze his way, ‘twas always lowered, as if it was too shameful to meet his own. Thomas knew that look, knew what it meant when a man turned red in the face and looked everywhere but in your eyes whilst speaking to you.

  It was called guilt.

  Thomas had witnessed that very expression writ across the face of Dugald the day his commander-at-arms held the king’s audience. ‘Twas the day after Dugald had fucked the Bruce’s wife.

  Thomas clutched the ruby lying against his heart, holding it as reverently as an amulet that has the power to ward off evil. He closed his eyes briefly against the misery that permeated him.

  His Maya would never betray him.

  Please dear God in heaven, not his beloved Maya.

  * * * * *

  Maya stroked the sleeping heads of Angus and Elizabeth as she watched them both surrender to a blissful state of slumber. She smiled tenderly at her tiny babies who were growing more and more into their own personalities as the days went by.

  It was strange to think that one day too soon they would no longer be babies. They would quickly grow to be strong adults who led lives all their own. Handsome Angus would be laird of their clan one day, while beautiful little Elizabeth would be married to a powerful lord who loved her as much as Thomas loved Maya. But they would always be her beloved babies, her firstborn treasures.

  Maya bent down and kissed her children, then silently made her way to the door. It was time to find her husband.

  Thomas had been acting strange lately, as if haunted by a ghost or an impending threat he wouldn’t name. She wasn’t certain what to make of his bizarre and volatile moods for the past few days, but she was determined to find out the cause of them before this night ended. Besides, tomorrow was the feast, and she wanted her husband to enjoy himself, no ghosts allowed.

  Maya strolled down to the great hall and scanned it quickly for her husband. No sign of him here. There was only Argyle, Sara, and Dugald. She frowned into the throng of them, furrowing her brow. “Has anyone seen Thomas?”

  Sara shook her head in the negative and smiled. “No, he hasn’t been in here since midday, I think.”

  “Mayhap he is in the bailey,” Dugald offered.

  Maya nodded. “I guess all I can do is go check.”

  “If he is no’ there,” Argyle added, “then mayhap he joined Lord Chance and Sir Sotted fer their ride intae yon village.” He shrugged. “They mentioned that they were going tae go remind the council of the feast on the morrow.”

  “Thank-you, Argyle. I’m going to go see if he’s still in the keep.” Maya picked up her skirts and walked briskly toward the courtyard, hoping he was still within the confines of the castle. She frowned when she reached the bailey, only to find it empty.

  Maya ambled over to the closest castle wall and leaned against it, her arms crossed over her breasts as she contemplated the possibilities of where her husband could be. He wasn’t in the great hall. He wasn’t in the bailey. He hadn’t mentioned the desire to go riding with her tonight. Apparently Argyle was right. He had to be in the village. Where else could he be?

  The tiny hairs on the nape of Maya’s neck stirred, alerting her to the fact that she was no longer the only person standing in the courtyard. She whirled around with an expectant smile, hoping that it was Thomas who was approaching.

  “Patrick,” she whispered, trying her best to hide her disappointment.

  The Hamilton saw right through her effort. It pained him greatly, realizing she could never love him as she loved her husband, yet knowing at the same time that it was for the best that he force himself to acknowledge that as a fact. “I see I ha’ disappointed ye, milady. Sorry ‘tis me and no’ the MacGregor.”

  Maya flushed, feeling every inch the ogre hostess. “No Patrick, you haven’t disappointed me at all.” She shook her head and looked up to him. “It’s just that I can’t seem to find my husband anywhere and I’m beginning to worry about him. Do you know where Thomas is?”

  “Nay,” he admitted with a small sigh. “I ha’ no seen him since this afternoon.”

  “That seems to be the consensus around here.” She shook her head, lowering her gaze to the ground. “It’s not like him to go off without telling me his destination. I’m really starting to worry.”

  Patrick smiled. “He’s lucky, Thomas, tae ha’ a woman such as yerself tae fret o’er him.”

  Maya glanced upward at Patrick’s softly whispered words, her eyes round with a suspicion she’d been harboring for a few days now. And when he drew his hand to her cheek and stroked it longingly, her suspicion evolved into a precise confirmation.

  The Hamilton wanted her.

  “Patrick,” she whispered, reaching for his hand and removing it gently, but forcefully from her cheek. “I am flattered. Very flattered. But—”

  “But ye dinna love me.” He sighed. “Ye love Thomas, as ye should.”

  Maya nodded. “I’m sorry.”

  “Dinna be sorry.”

  Patrick flashed Maya a dimpled, but pained smile. He took a deep breath, his blue eyes briefly flickering shut. He opened them just as quickly, then bent down and kissed her chastely on the forehead. “I’m sorry fer making ye feel uncomfortable, lass. ‘Tis my problem, this lust, no’ yers.” He shook his head in regret, unable to meet her gaze. “I ha’ no’ been able tae look my own best friend in the eye fer days now, knowing I ha’ betrayed him in my thoughts.”

  “Patrick, I don’t think you should be telling me this.”

  “I ha’ tae. I ha’ tae get it off of my chest. Lass, I canna leave here without ye knowing my feelings. I love ye, Maya. I’m verra much in love with ye.”

  Maya stared open-mouthed at the Hamilton, unable to believe what she’d just heard. Did Thomas know his feelings? Is that why he had been avoiding her like the Black Plague lately? “Patrick,” she breathed out, “oh God, I don’t want to hurt you. And I don’t want to be the cause of a rift between you and Thomas either. I…” She shook her head and sighed. “Patrick I’m married. And happily so.”

  “Do ye think I dinna ken that?” he asked. “Good God Maya, I ha’ been telling myself fer days now that I canna be entertainin’ the kinds of thoughts aboot ye that I ha’ been thinkin’. He’s my best friend, by the saints!” He grimaced as he ran his fingers tersely through his hair. “I feel lower than an Englishmon. I know Thomas knows my feelings. He kens me tae well no’ tae.”

  Maya took a deep breath and reflected on everything she knew of Patrick. She thought about how honorable he was, what a good friend he had always been to Thomas, how kind and generous he was to Angus and Beth. She shook her head. “You don’t love me, Hamilton.”

  Patrick whirled around to face her again. “Ye canna know what I ha’ been feelin’, milady.”

  “You’re wrong. I can. And I know that you don’t love me.”

  He furrowed his brow. “I dinna ken.”

  Maya took a thoughtful breath of night-chilled air as she shifted a straggling curl behind her ear. “You don’t seem at all the type to fall head over heels in love with a woman you barely know, a woman you’ve spent only a few hours time with. I think that you are in love, all right, but not with me.” She shrugged. “You love what I represent.”

  “What ye…represent?”

  “Yes. You see Thomas, a hardened warlord you have known all of your life, suddenly happy and content to stay at home with his new family rather than riding off to the latest battle.” She smiled up to him, taking his hands in her own. “I see how you look at Angus and Beth. I can see the longing for a family in your eyes.

  “But you are the sort of man who wouldn’t realize exactly what it is that he’s wanting even when it stares him straight in the face because from what I can gather about you, you’ve always been the type to avoid committing yourself to another at any cost. And now you’re finding yourself alone, wishing for what Thomas has.” She shrugged and grinned. “I just happen
ed to be the woman standing closest to you when you finally realized what it was you needed.”

  Patrick thought long and true on her words, wondering if she could possibly be right. Could she see things about him as an unbiased third party that he couldn’t see clearly for his self? She was an intelligent woman, Thomas’s wife.

  And then finally, after three torturously long and guilt-laden days, and three equally wretched, sleepless nights, a great burden was lifted from the Hamilton’s heavy heart. “Ye are right, milady,” Patrick whispered. He smiled slowly. “Ye are right.”

  “Of course I am!” Maya beamed, effectively putting an end to the somber mood swarming about them. “I’m the MacGregor’s wife, after all. I can sew together tapestries, throw together lavish feasts, and fend off hounds like Meg all in a single day’s work!”

  Patrick threw his head back and laughed joyously. He hadn’t felt better in…well, three days and nights to be exact. He took Maya’s arm and led her slowly back to the castle doors. “Does my good friend Thomas ken what a remarkable treasure he has found in ye?”

  “Hmm. I don’t know,” she teased, “but he better!”

  * * * * *

  From the bushes near the castle wall, Thomas stared at the backs of his departing wife and best friend. He closed his eyes and took a deep, steadying breath. “Aye, my love,” he whispered hoarsely, “I ken what ye are tae me.”

  And then in much relief and even more gratitude, Thomas MacGregor, the most feared laird in all of Scotland, fell to his battle-scarred knees and wept in relief.

  Chapter 44

  Maya sat in her bed, unable to fall asleep. Thomas still had not come home. She’d done all within her power to think on other things, to think of anything except for the gut-wrenching conclusion she’d harbored that something horrid had happened to her husband.