“She exaggerates,” Cortland whispered.
“My thanks. Now tell me of my wife,” Declan requested with a hint of the laird in his voice.
“Emma will be sore from my inspection, but the swelling has eased and the bruising fades,” Kathryn said. “She will fully recover from her ordeal.”
Declan mumbled a curse. “I caught sight of her bruising. I can nay imagine how much worse it was in days past.” His voice echoed with anguish, and she hated hearing it. He asked softly, “And the rest?”
“She is young and healthy,” Kathryn answered. “The rest is in God’s hands.”
Cortland turned away from the curtain to look down at her. “I should go and talk to him. You rest until the meal is ready. If you prefer, I will bring your meal in here. ‘Tis a foul eve to ask Declan to eat outside.”
Emma settled back against the plain headboard with the pillow propped at her back, mulling over the information she hadn’t wanted. She had become a coward content to live in anger rather than ask for the answers from the source. “I’ll come out, and he can stay.”
“There is the daughter I remember. The meal will be kept void of conversation that upsets you,” Cortland reassured her.
Emma nodded and pointed to the basket on the floor. “Could you please hand me that?”
Cortland peeked under the rough cloth and smiled at the balls of yarn and rough knitting needles. “So Kathryn brought you a quiet task. Are you skilled?”
Laughing at the question, she left out that she had grown up in a retirement community. I can knit away a Saturday night with the best of them. “I can do this. Knit one, purl two,” she teased.
Handing her the basket, Cortland leaned down and kissed her forehead. “The bairn will come in late winter when the air is frigid. Be sure to weave tight.”
After her nod, he left, and she ignored the quiet conversation that was likely taking place at the table. The wooden needles lacked the comforting clicks that had filled her evenings with her grandmother, yet the task felt natural to her hands. Bits and pieces of the chatter filled her ears, questions over her health from Declan; his shame and guilt rang in his voice while she completed the first row of what would become a small blanket.
She dropped a stitch when Declan said, “I need her to speak with me.”
“If you think I will encourage such again you are mistaken,” Cortland said, his tone harsh to her eavesdropping ears. “My daughter needs rest, nay to relive your deception and cruelty.”
“I would seek to make amends, to remind her of all that is still between us.” The passion and raw emotion in Declan’s voice briefly touched a place in her heart she wasn’t ready to visit, so she focused on her task.
Cortland abruptly changed the topic by speaking of repairs that were needed on the small stables. In her head, she could see raw frustration on Declan’s face even though he agreed to aid in the task on the morrow. A little voice in the back of her head reminded her that she would only have answers if she asked the questions. I really hate that little voice.
Rows were knitted, and conversations ebbed and flowed without her. Sunlight faded until she knew she would need to fetch a candle from the main room if she was to continue.
Emma heard the crude wooden plates hitting the table along with Kathryn’s pronouncement that the meal was ready. Summoning what was left of her courage, Emma set aside the yarn and rose on shaky legs, annoyed that the earlier ministrations had left her so weak.
Pushing aside the curtain, she limped to the table and sat beside Cortland, with Kathryn and Declan across from her. The moment she sat, Declan rose with his plate in hand.
“You can’t eat in the rain,” Emma said softly. “Sit down.”
A grateful sigh left his lips as he sat. “My thanks. A meal with you would be a delight.”
Emma looked down at her plate rather than at the emerald eyes that begged for any show of affection. The meal was simple: rabbit stewed with herbs, early onions, and greens. Eyeing the meat on her fork, her stomach rolled with nerves and the day’s nausea that lingered.
“The meat will do you good,” Kathryn encouraged. “Be a good lass and clean your plate. We should all be grateful Declan snared the wee beasts this morn to fill our bellies.”
Declan shook off the praise while she hesitantly took a bite.
“Does your stomach ail you?” he questioned, full of concern.
Rather than admit the truth, she shook her head. “Just sore from Kathryn healing me.” She dripped sarcasm.
Kathryn filled the meal with gossip from the small village, news that came from traveling vendors, and other meaningless small talk. So much useless information. Do I have the courage to ask what I need to know? Cortland asked questions about the families on his lands, and Declan praised the bread she had made earlier in the day. Through it all, Emma nodded and tried to decide what to ask, aware that the answers might be enough to destroy what was left of her heart. She knew every question had an answer; she didn’t know if she was ready to face them.
Kathryn denied her help in cleaning up after dinner but ensured her that the morning meal was hers to handle as she had work to do in the village. Dishes were scrubbed while the men discussed livestock and other matters that meant nothing to her.
After dumping the pot of dishwater out the front door, Kathryn turned to Cortland. “Which one of you fine men plan to see me safely to my door?”
“‘Twould be my pleasure,” Declan said, rising from the table. “After all of your fine care to those I love most, it would be my honor.”
Without looking up from the wooden grain of the table, Emma summoned what remained of her courage. “Da will see her home.”
“Nay,” Cortland chided her. “You are pale from Kathryn’s care and should rest.” His concern could be her out, but she was beyond tired of not knowing. I need to know before the wondering drives me insane.
Taking his hand in hers, she reassured him. “Might as well be now. Take Kathryn before she complains that you don’t spend enough time with her. Which you don’t.”
“Heed your daughter,” Kathryn said. “No good comes from waiting.”
Emma gave the woman a small nod, hoping she was correct.
“I will return quickly,” Cortland replied with a squeeze to her hand. The next comment was clearly meant for Declan. “You will face me if she is upset.”
“Emma’s welfare comes before all,” Declan swore. “I would simply speak with her.”
Cortland growled and shook his head. Kissing her head, he said, “I would prefer you wait for my return.”
Offering him a small laugh, she said, “I’ll be okay.” Though her stomach clenched at the certainty that being alone with Declan was going to be difficult and anything but okay.
“Wrap yourself against the rain,” Cortland said, placing a plaid over Kathryn’s head. “I would see you take no chill.” His gaze fixed on Declan. “Emma needs rest, and I will return quickly.”
“Aye, old man,” he quickly agreed. “So you have already claimed many times.”
The pair left, and Emma and Declan sat in awkward silence with the steady patter of the rain filling the air before Declan broke the stalemate. “I would speak if you would listen kenning that I would do all to prevent Cortland’s wrath.”
While he joked, her temper flared. “But mine is okay?”
“I would erase yours if you are willing to speak with me,” he said softly.
Emma glanced at him and quickly away at the agony on his face. “I don’t know if I’m ready to,” she admitted. “But there are things I need to know.” She knew she couldn’t handle another night lying in her bed tossing and turning. The sleep that had been her refuge, denied her as soon as Declan had arrived.
“You speak of small peace where I would ag
ain have you answer to wife,” Declan said. “Is the gulf between us so great?”
Blinking in astonishment at his audacity, she replied, “You ended the marriage. Why in the world would I answer to wife?”
“All I did was to protect you,” Declan started. When he continued with his plan, the one that formed in his dim-witted mind after she had been almost poisoned, the details were nothing new. She’d heard plenty from the serving women at the keep of what he had done to separate himself from her. She had already heard in great detail from Kathryn and Cortland about how it was all a rouse, supposedly. Declan had told her the same the day before at the loch. Unable to hear more, she held up her hand to stop his diatribe.
“I know all of that, and I know exactly how and where it all went wrong.” When he would have answered, Emma cut him off. “All I want to know is if anything was ever real?”
Declan shook his head. “My cruelty came from the goal to drive you to safety, the words spoken in the hall were all false . . .”
“Enough with your intent. If I never hear about it again, it will be too soon,” she snarled. Bracing her hands flat on the table, she looked across the surface to hold his eyes for the first time in weeks. “I meant from the day you and I married. Was any moment between us ever real? This is where you need to tell me if I was simply convenient to marry to protect Mary and bind Cortland to your cause.” Her heart hammered at the question finally being out in the open. “I have the right to know.”
Declan blinked rapidly, and his mouth opened and closed several times before he rose to pace the length of the cottage. Ragged breaths filled the air, and her heart sank at what she expected was most likely going to be the final blow to her spirit.
“Are you asking if what was between us from the start was a lie?” His steps had stopped, leaving him staring at her from the end of the table.
“Yes,” she whispered. Emma tensed when he sat at her side, his legs spread over the bench that provided the seating. She could feel his stare and winced while waiting for him to speak.
“What have I done?” he questioned the empty room. When no answer came, he said, “Emma, look at me.”
Shifting slightly on the bench, she dared to face him. Her gaze hovered at his chin, as she was too afraid to see the rejection in his gaze. “Just tell me,” she whispered with a small nod. “I deserve that much.”
“For the first time in my life, everything was real and carried great meaning. Marrying you was the wisest thing I have ever done. For nearly a moon, all was right. I had a wife who gave me her heart even as she captured mine. We shared the love of my child, and despite all the threats within our home, we were happy.”
What her heart craved to believe, her mind couldn’t comprehend. Her body tensed, and her eyes closed when his hand reached out to cup her cheek. Shaking away the familiar heat of his skin, she whispered, “Then how could you be so cruel to me?”
Instead of answering her, he asked, “Do you believe me?”
“No,” she replied. “Someone who loved me wouldn’t be able to be so hurtful, so intent on breaking me.”
“I loved you so much. I still love you enough to think you would have been safer away from me. Oh, Emma, my soul died the night you fled our chamber in tears.”
Clenching her eyes at the tears that threatened to well at the mention of that night, she reminded him, “Yet you let me leave.” Her memory recalled the horror of that night and the pain that had been more than emotional—it had been crippling.
“‘Tis the moment that set all in motion. There you stood before me, asking for me. I ken you well enough that I could have set aside your fears, made all the gossip I made certain you heard vanish. In my heart, I wished to rise from my chair, carry you to our bed, and confess my plot while begging for your forgiveness.”
“Instead you let me make a fool of myself and spend the first of many nights wondering where it all went wrong. I hate you for that night.” Emma’s voice choked with the agony alive in her heart. Rising from her seat, she placed some distance between them. “Tell me where it all went wrong,” she demanded from the other side of the room.
“Naught went wrong,” Declan said to her surprise. “You were my cherished wife in all ways.”
“Bullshit,” she snarled at him. “You don’t do that to your cherished wife.”
“You do when you ken she believes all speak with the same honesty she does. When I asked you to leave, you refused to even discuss it. So, I acted as I thought correct. I made you leave.” His voice fell, and sadness crept in. “I thought only to remove you from a home where you could be poisoned at any moment. How long before the men who followed you each day were given orders to attack? I dinna have the answer to that, none did.”
“I can handle myself,” she retorted, her features tight with fury.
“Nay against so many,” Declan chided. “Five men followed you daily, and you carried no weapon. If they had attacked, you would have died.”
“So, instead, you made a mockery of what we supposedly had and sent me to get attacked anyway,” Emma threw at him. “How could you do that to me? You nearly got us killed. You left Mary alone with those ruthless people and ended our marriage, and you have the nerve to tell me you were trying to save me?” She loathed that there was a nearly hysterical tone in her voice.
“You told me you could have been with child. How was I supposed to let all play out? I could nay protect you day and night. We had already seen that.” His rage filled the room as he rose and stalked to stand in front of her. “My wife lived with danger, and I could do naught to protect her. No husband has ever wanted to protect his wife more than I. Despite my intent, I was more wrong than any man has ever been.”
Declan’s hands cupped her face. Tears fell, yet his hands stayed immobile on her skin. “Your blood stains my hands. In attempting to save you, I nearly lost you as we lost our child.”
Emma staggered on her feet, her swollen ankle unable to the bear the strain of her stumble. “Don’t you dare,” she whispered, choking on a sob. “This is about you throwing me away. You killed me. How could you?”
His arms reached around her back to hold her up, and she pushed him away when he came in contact with her ribs. Uttering a soft cry, she pushed and staggered until her back met the wall. “How can you stand there and tell me that you love me?”
“‘Tis all I ken. I destroyed parchment, nay what is between us. My heart screams that you are my wife in all the ways that matter most.” Declan’s eyes glowed with passion. “Try to understand that I did it all for you. The claims to my lands should have never been about you.”
A bitter laugh left her lips. “Yet that is exactly why you married me, to save your land. I was there and a willing victim to your lies.”
“The only lie was in making you think I no longer loved you,” Declan told her. “Think on it. I created the lie that you drank the poison and lost our bairn. I told you that I would treat you far different before all.” His voice faded to a harsh whisper, “And then I made you believe the worst so Cortland would take you away. I swear I thought you would take Mary with you.”
Emma’s mind whirled as she attempted to take in every word he said. Tears streamed in an unrelenting river, and she aired the only coherent thought in her mind. “He wouldn’t let me go back for Mary, said that I had no legal right.” With images of the forest blurring during their escape, an unwanted truth slammed into her thoughts. “It’s my fault Cortland was hurt. I fought him. I wanted to go back for her. He was forced to slow down when I tried to jump off the horse. If I hadn’t, we might have been able to outrun them or lose them.” Swallowing hard, she whispered, “It’s my fault.”
“Nay, Emma,” Declan said quickly. “The guilt is mine alone.”
“No,” she said, finally meeting his eyes. “I couldn’t think after everything you
said in the hall. I couldn’t breathe.” The unwanted image of Declan leaving with Ciara filled her thoughts, and she whimpered, “I still can’t.”
“I told you what happened. No words have ever been more true, I swear it.” His gaze hardened with his oath, and Emma shook her head.
“I don’t know how to believe you. You broke my heart, my trust, and there is nothing left of me.” Turning her gaze away from his, she had no desire to see her pain reflected in his eyes. Stumbling away from him, she plopped down on the bench and stared at the curtain that led to her bedroom. “I counted the days here, alone. We were here for fourteen days when you fell through the trees. I never once counted the days after I lost my home in my time. Never.” Another tear trickled down her cheek, and she absently wiped it away. “I counted the days where my life had no meaning.”
Soft footfalls led Declan to the bench, and he sat beside her. “I would again fill your days and nights with meaning. Alone I am but an empty husk with no soul. I would have you answer to wife. Parchment can be rewritten, yet means naught. Tell me you will forgive me and together we can start anew.”
Her hand fell to cover her stomach, and she sighed. “I don’t know how to forgive you or if I should.”
Instead of answering her, he lifted her other hand and tucked it between his. Breaking the silence, he offered, “We could start from the beginning with walks and meals together.”
Emma laughed despite the sincerity in his voice. The notion of dating him tickled her in ways she couldn’t comprehend. “We never started like that.”
“Nay, I spent far too little time earning your heart. Instead, I plotted for you to have no choice but to marry me,” Declan said with humor in his voice. “While my head ached in the morn after too much whiskey, I ordered your wedding clothes to be made.”
Furrowing her brow, she asked, “What?”
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