The Draig's Wife

by Lisa Dawn Wadler

  “We will, I promise.” Emma smoothed the child’s dark hair off her forehead. Mary snuggled into the pillow with a sweet smile on her face.

  Repeating the statement she made every night, Mary said, “Thank you for spending the day with me.” A look of puzzlement then crossed her face. “Why do you spend every day with me?”

  It was a question no child should ever ask an adult because it spoke of not expecting someone to be there. Emma had asked a similar question of her grandmother many years ago when she had been scared and unsure of her place in the world. So, Emma gave Mary the same answer she had received as a child. “Because a day without you would be as dreary as a day without sunshine.”

  Mary clearly liked the response as much as she had or so she guessed based on the massive hug she received. She held the girl close and waited for her to end the embrace. Placing the child back down on the pillow and adjusting the covers, she whispered, “Go to sleep, and I’ll be here to help you dress in the morning.”

  Leaving the chamber with a soft click of the door, her anger from the evening meal came flooding back. How could the man be so cold? How could Aalish be so wrong? Not once during the whole evening did Declan pay any attention to his daughter, not one word. Emma had seethed as he purposefully strode the hall and greeted his warriors, their wives, and each child seated at the tables. Yet his own child received only quick glances.

  His cousin Merrick had been the polar opposite. He sat with Emma, Mary, and Cortland. Merrick asked Mary every detail of her day and what she had done since his last visit. They had all laughed at his silly stories of battling magical beasts. That he had flirted with Emma a bit didn’t hurt her opinion of the man. She couldn’t remember the last time a strikingly beautiful man ever noticed she was alive, much less found her worthy of a sly grin. Besides, Cortland had been there and approved all that was said.

  She found Cortland seated at one of the long tables in the mostly empty hall. “Hello, Da.” The word flowed easily from her lips and no longer felt like a lie. Everyone expected her to say it, and Cortland acted like a doting father in every way.

  “It took a while to put the wee one to bed. I had to find another to play,” Cortland said, moving his knight on the chessboard.

  With a smile for his companion, Emma said, “Go easy on my da, William.” Emma liked William, which was convenient. He was Cortland’s favorite and protégé. William came from the land Cortland owned, and he was being trained to replace Cortland when he retired to his land. Neither she nor William could see Cortland being content overseeing his small farm and pastures.

  “Never underestimate your father, Emma,” William said, removing Cortland’s knight from the game board. He glanced at her. “Your hair is bonny this eve.”

  Emma shook her head at the compliment. She and William had met days ago and had taken an instant liking to each other. Given they were both under Cortland’s wing, it made sense. Cortland had wanted her to be interested in William, but the spark just wasn’t there.

  “Speaking of my hair, care to tell me why I was the only one with my hair down tonight?” Emma asked, moving Cortland’s pawn and capturing William’s bishop.

  Cortland gave her a quick wink. “It marks you as a maiden. It should give those with big mouths something to talk about on the morrow.”

  Heat scalded her cheeks at the reference. Emma paused, wondering what to address first, the comment or William’s laughter. Neither happened because Meggie entered the hall.

  “Oh, there you are, Emma. Declan wishes to speak with you in his study,” Meggie said, making her way to the table.

  “Is there a problem?” Emma asked, noting the woman’s agitation. Since the first day in the hall, she hadn’t said more than hello to the man, and he had said less to her, not that he had been there.

  “Forgive me, Emma. There is no trouble. Declan asked about Mary, and since you have been with her, you should be the one to answer his questions,” Meggie explained. “I did tell him what a fine job you have done with her care, seeing to her meals, bedtimes, baths, and the love you show the child.”

  This is going to be a short conversation, Emma thought. That about sums up the last few days.

  Cortland rose to his feet. “The man hates to be kept waiting. Hold the game, William.”

  Meggie cleared her throat and fidgeted with her skirt. “You should stay here, Cortland. Declan wishes to speak with her alone.”

  “I will stay in the hall. We can talk after,” Cortland said. Emma noticed the lack of a reassuring smile. She had nothing to hide from Declan and didn’t need Cortland’s protection. She knew from Cortland that the laird knew who she really was and was entitled to ask her any questions about her arrival. Besides, she had a bone to pick with him about his daughter.

  “I’ve wanted to speak with him, too. This is perfect,” Emma said as she walked down the corridor that led to the study. Beautiful man or not, he was about to receive a piece of her mind.

  ~ ~ ~

  “We both ken Emma was angry at Declan this eve. She ranted enough about the way he ignored Mary. Are you certain ‘tis wise to leave them alone?” William asked as he watched her walk out of sight. “I won’t even mention that you are trying to restore her reputation. Leaving her alone with Declan may nay be wise.”

  Cortland sighed and mulled over what William said. All the thoughts were valid and already in his mind. Moving his remaining knight, Cortland said, “As long as neither is armed, we should be fine. Emma is bonny but nay what Declan seeks in a woman. He said as much.”

  “Aye, she is bonny,” William agreed, removing the last knight.

  Cortland wished it had been simple with William and Emma; in his mind, it would have been a fine pair. He found gratitude that they enjoyed each other’s company. Not willing to let the younger man’s comment slip by, Cortland scolded, “Watch how you speak of my daughter, William.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Declan had a whole new reason to need a wife. Settling arguments in the kitchens was not a duty that should have fallen at his feet. This is why men married, to handle the household. At the late hour, he wanted nothing more than the peace and solitude waiting for him in his chambers. After several days at the Campbell keep, the lure of a clean bed called to him. Yet, he still had one more duty to perform, one that was overdue.

  Entering the study, he noted Emma waited with her back turned to the door. Her gaze was locked on the tapestry hung across from the desk. That too irritated him; she should have noticed his arrival.

  But he had also lost time staring at the image that covered the wall. It was of the dagger bound to his hip, passed to him from his mother’s hands and destined for the hand of the woman he would love. He planned on holding onto the dagger for a long time.

  The dagger was the focal point of the tapestry. His real dagger had the dragon wrapped around the handle, one head on the top of the handle and the other on the opposite side at the bottom. The tapestry had the two images separated. The dagger was in the center and the dragon with no tail, only heads on each end, wound around the whole of the dagger. The creature had eyes that were green like emeralds, or as his mother had said, like those of her husband and children. Declan always believed there was something about the image, and the dagger itself, that had a meaning he had always missed.

  Closing the door and bolting it hard enough to stir Emma from her quiet thoughts, Declan waited for her to face him. In that instant, he regretted his choice to stand directly behind her. Dark, thick hair flowed to the middle of her back and called to his fingers. The raven tresses gave off a sweet fragrance when she turned to face him. His gaze lingered too long on the waves of hair that settled behind her shoulders and disappeared from his sight.

  When he glanced at her face, eyes that again reminded him of winter’s ice searched his with clear annoyance. Who does this
lass think she is to glare at me so? He had been told she was bold for a lass of her years; however, he had also been told by too many that she was sweet and biddable. Her eyes denied the latter.

  Refusing to give her an upper hand in the meeting, Declan walked slowly to his desk and leaned back against it with his arms folded across his chest. Many a man had looked away when he stared at them so hard, and some even stepped back. Not Emma, she faced him with no hesitation and held his gaze. So much for biddable.

  “My grandmother made the tapestry,” he offered. “‘Tis the mark of the clan.”

  “It may be the best needlework I have ever seen,” Emma replied, stepping closer to him.

  Declan took a selfish moment to visually peruse her form and decided her eyes were the safest place to rest, but her hair was tempting. I wonder if it’s as glorious to touch as it is to see. A scowl formed on his face. I ken why her hair is unbound. Cortland has always been a master strategist, and tongues will wag on the morrow. Though it softens her features and turns bonny into beautiful. It may be a blessing that she’s dressed in an ill-fitted gown that makes her appear as if she wears a sack.

  Clearing his throat, he said, “We have nay had a chance to speak since my return. Now that the truth has been told, there are duties that must be performed.”

  “I wanted to speak with you also,” Emma said, waving off his offer of a seat.

  The lass is clearly bold, he decided. Bothersome, but oddly charming. “Has Cortland explained why he claimed you as his child?”

  “He explained that your family has something to do with how I arrived here, how an ancestor made my . . . door and the part about it being your duty to make certain I have a home now. The part he couldn’t answer was how I arrived here or what made the door or whether or not another could be made to take me home.”

  Declan’s parents had made certain he and his siblings knew the clan lore and the responsibilities it created. Never had he imagined having to fulfill the obligation. “I dinna ken how it works or why. None do. He probably also stated no tales speak of a return to your land. For your loss, I am sorry.” Declan softened his stance as grief filled her eyes.

  “Cortland has claimed you as a part of his family. It needs to be asked if ‘tis acceptable to you. Bear in mind all that you need will be provided. There is only the need for you to ask.” He added that last part with a gentle tone. Her grief was too palpable to him and made his chest ache in sympathy. As one who had lost too many members of his family, he could understand the loss of one’s home, even if she left no one of great importance behind.

  “Given that I’ve met everyone as Cortland’s daughter, I don’t think we can change the story now. But since you asked, I am quite happy with him. We are well-suited together,” Emma said. Declan could easily read her fondness for Cortland and envied his first man for creating such a bond.

  He had heard the same from all he had asked. Emma and Cortland’s name were now spoken together. They shared meals, walks, conversations, and were together, after Mary slept, in his hall playing chess. Cortland was a new man, happy and content with all in his life. Mayhap the fates have delivered the lass to the correct man. Still, questions plagued his mind. Why would the fates deny me such a constant and loving companion?

  “Was it your idea to deceive me?” He knew his voice carried accusation.

  Emma choked out a short laugh. “My idea? I went from my home and everything I knew to fighting for my life in the woods and losing everything. Besides, what could I possibly hope to gain from someone I had just met?”

  There was nothing in her face or body language that hinted at a lie. If anything, she showed only more irritation at the question. Yet trusting anything spoken by a woman was not simple for him. “‘Twas a curiosity. Never before has Cortland withheld any truth from me, until he met you.”

  With her arms folded under her chest, she replied, “Ask Cortland why.”

  “I did and received an answer I can live with,” Declan stated as he dropped his arms to his side. That she copied his stance bothered him. But then each moment with her seemed to bother him as much as it intrigued.

  “If that’s settled, I wanted to speak with you about Mary.” Emma stepped close enough for the floral scent of her hair to again fill his greedy nose.

  “‘Tis exactly what I wished to speak with you about. Meggie informs me you have appointed yourself her caregiver.” That Meggie also praised all that Emma did with the child never left his lips. He wanted to know why she did it. Cortland had given Declan the details of Emma’s losses. Though he could imagine her pain, Mary was his child, not hers.

  “Since no one else was getting it done, I am,” Emma said quickly.

  The barely veiled insult rankled him to his core. “Do you take issue with the treatment my daughter has received?” The obligatory chat was turning quickly into a confrontation.

  “Mary has needed someone for a long time, not just a servant to do odd tasks. Not to mention that you do your best to ignore her. Is tonight an example of how you normally treat her?”

  Standing straight to look down at her from his full height, her height took away his normal advantage, which annoyed him more. Declan growled, “How I treat my daughter is of little concern to you.” She has no idea the demands placed on me as laird and the one demand that will most likely bring me to my knees when I marry.

  “If I am the one caring for her, everything that concerns her is my business,” Emma shot back at him; her passion rivaled a momma bear protecting her cub.

  She had angered him beyond belief, but all he could do was stand and stare at the mesmerizing glow and blue fire in her eyes.

  Shaking away his distraction, Declan said, “Then dinna care for her. She was fine before you arrived.” He noticed that Emma’s fire dimmed at the harshly spoken words. Satisfied he had regained control of the conversation, he watched every thought play over her features. His anger softened to irritation. Her deep breaths calmed her rage and left blatant grief. The fact that her pain made him feel like the worst of men only irritated him more.

  “I would like to be the one to care for Mary,” Emma said. Hope flickered in her eyes. “Ask Meggie. We are very good together.” He listened as Emma detailed how the child’s day was structured.

  He already knew Mary ate better, slept regular hours, bathed, and laughed. He loved the sound of Mary’s laughter, though rarely heard it. Still, Emma tried his patience. “I have my doubts that you are a proper influence for her.”

  “I am not Esmeralda,” Emma snapped.

  Holding up his hands, he said, “‘Tis nay what I meant. Mary needs to be taught to run a household of this size, something with which you have no experience. She needs to be taught to be a lady to be respected in the land. You dinna even take the time to dress yourself properly.” Declan reached out and pulled at the dress that hung loosely over her tall, slender frame.

  Her hand quickly slapped his away. “You are going to judge me based on how I dress? How dare you! For your information, the dress isn’t mine, it’s borrowed. You would prefer I ruin someone else’s clothes to serve my vanity? How shallow are you? Meggie is having someone make me clothes that might actually fit. Given that these same women make all the clothing for most of those in the keep, I’m waiting for mine to be finished. Besides, who cares what I look like? I have done a great job with Mary.”

  The blue fire again burned in her gaze, and Declan absently wondered if it burned so brightly when her passions were roused. The thought took him by surprise. They were in the middle of an argument, and he was thinking about whether or not her body would hold the same spark if she were beneath him. What is wrong with me?

  He knew he was being insulting; no woman liked her appearance criticized. In truth, even with the poor choice of dress, she was bonny, though she was without the womanly curves that nor
mally stoked his passions. Declan forced his thoughts back to the moment, agitated with the certainty he would enjoy seeking whatever charms lay hidden in the gown. “You are a reflection on the man who claims you father. His name carries weight here and throughout these lands. When your gowns are ready, wear them.”

  With her eyes narrowed in barely contained hostility, she snarled, “What else do you think I can’t teach Mary?” Declan fought the grin threatening to form. He was enjoying Emma’s temper far too much. “How about you tell me what you think she needs.” The challenge had been thrown, and he wanted to see if she could rise to the occasion, which is exactly what she did.

  Her eyes softened as she spoke with eloquence and sincerity. He understood why Cortland favored her. She spoke her mind with conviction. Besides, her views on what Mary needed matched his own: attention, encouragement, nurturing, and discipline. Those very words would have described how his mother had raised him and his siblings. She had loved all four of them yet kept them in line. There was no doubt in his mind Emma would do the same.

  He wondered how much of the diatribe came from her childhood. Cortland had shared the details of Emma’s rough introduction to life from her horrid mother and the better years with her grandparents. Mayhap her need to be with Mary heals some of that pain, yet Mary needs to be raised, nay serve as a bandage. When Emma finished, he replied, “Mary had a mother. You will nay be that to her.”

  Tension filled his body when she smiled broadly at his chastisement. If she was lovely while angry, she was stunningly beautiful when happiness lit her eyes, but her comment returned him to a state of aggravation. “Actually, she has had two mothers—your late-wife and Aalish.”

  How could I have never thought of that?