The following morn, Alec sat in dumbfounded silence in front of the hearth in his bedchamber. His back was to Leona, for he didn’t have the strength to look at her.
With Rose’s help, Leona had packed her belongings, dressed in her old blue gown, and informed him she was leaving. That very afternoon. She was going back to Mackintosh lands. She hadn’t provided him with any other information. Just a simple, “Alec, I be leavin’ with Ian and Rose today.”
He had been too stunned to speak, to argue or rail against it.
She was leaving him.
The last time she had told him such, they’d fought horribly. He had said things he would regret until the day he died. He had behaved abhorrently, which in turn, led to her nearly being killed by Effie. And that had led to her losing their babe.
Everything he never knew he wanted or needed was standing in the doorway. His entire world. His heart.
Silence filled that chasm of pain and sorrow that had formed between them. He could not look at her, for he knew he would fall apart. Or worse yet, his anger and hurt would get the better of him.
Once, he had refused to let her go. If he did so again, he would destroy her. And he could not do that. He loved her far too much.
“Alec,” Leona said, her voice soft and low, “may I ask ye one thing before I go?”
With his heart shattering once again, this time for entirely different reasons, he gave a slow nod.
“Did I ever once, in all the time we were together, make ye happy?”
Happy? His heart fell, lodged itself firmly in his already churning gut. He sat for a while, searching for the right words, for a way to answer that would make sense.
“Aye, lass, ye did. I was never truly happy until ye, Leona,” he said, his voice low and filled with sorrow. She was leaving him, and there was naught he could do but speak from his heart. “I never knew what a happy home was, until ye. I never knew I could find joy in somethin’ as simple as the sunset. I never knew what true love was, until ye came into me life. So yes, lass,” he stood to face her.
But she was already gone.
Chapter 34
Because of her injuries, Leona was unable to ride atop a horse. Someone had found a cart in which she could return in more comfort on that long, depressing route back to Mackintosh lands.
She sat in the back, atop fresh straw and pillows, next to Rose. A cool mist filled the morning air, chilling her to her marrow. The furs did nothing to keep the cold from settling deep into her bones.
He didn’t try to stop me, she wept silently as they rode over the drawbridge. He didn’t rave and rant and tell me he wasn’t going to allow me to leave.
Alec no longer wanted her. Somehow, she assumed ’twas because she had lost their babe; she had let him down. Disappointed him. Disappointed him so much that he could no longer look her in the eyes.
Her heart ached, her world torn asunder with the loss of her babe, and now, the loss of her husband.
Alec may have cared for her at one time. But now? Now he didn’t care enough to face her when she told him she was leaving. He didn’t care enough to answer the last question she had ever put to him.
“We will have ye right as rain verra soon,” Rose said as she drew the furs up around Leona’s shoulders.
“I will never be right again,” Leona murmured.
Rose, always kindhearted, patted her hand but offered no other encouragement.
They were being jostled about in the back of the cart as it rattled over the bumpy road. Leona watched as the large stone walls, the keep, and cottages grew smaller and smaller. Oh, what hopes and dreams this place once held for her. Now, they were ground into dust.
“Rose, I do no’ wish to go back to Mackintosh lands,” Leona told her.
“Ye wish to go back to yer husband?” she asked with a raised brow.
Leona shook her head. “Nay. Take me to St. Agnes’s.”
“The convent?” Rose exclaimed. She’d have been less surprised had Leona sprouted horns. “Ye can no’ be serious!”
But she was. “I can no’ go back to yer clan. I can no’ face me father, or the people there. The whispers, the looks of reproach. I would be goin’ back an even bigger failure than when I left.”
Rose could not argue the point. Though many of her people were good, kind, and decent, there were still many who believed the lies Ingerame told of his only daughter. They believed, all because of her odd eyes, that she was a witch. ’Twould be next to impossible to change their minds.
“Ye loved him deeply, aye?” Rose asked as she too watched the buildings getting smaller.
“Aye, I did, Rose. But he could no’ love me back.”
Rose turned to look at her. “Are ye certain?”
All she could manage was a nod and a sniffle in reply.
“Ian seems to think Alec cares for ye a great deal.”
“Carin’ and lovin’ are two different things,” she told her. “He also cares fer his men, his bandogge, and his horse. It means naught.”
Rose gave a nod of understanding. “So no’ once, in the time ye were married, did ye feel safe? Cared for? Or even adored?”
“I did,” Leona told her. “But I can no’ stay with him, knowing me heart belongs to him, but his will never be mine. It hurts too much.”
They sat in quiet reverie for some time. The sun broke through the morning mist, the Bowie keep now nothing more than a tiny dot on the horizon.
“Do ye no’ think a husband should love his wife?” Leona asked.
“Well, it certainly helps,” she replied. “But love will take its own sweet time.”
Leona wasn’t certain she understood Rose’s meaning, but left it alone. “I have gone the whole of me life without bein’ loved by those people who should have. Me da did no’ love me; that, no one can deny.”
Rose agreed with that assessment.
“And me husband, he should have loved me as well. Do ye no’ see? I be no’ the kind of woman any man can love. No’ me da, no’ Alec. No one.”
“Do ye think it be possible that he did love ye? Alec I mean? But mayhap he was too afraid to give ye the words.”
Nay, she did not think such a thing possible. “Then why did he no’ stop me from leavin’? He did no’ even say goodbye or fare thee well.”
She was gone.
She had left him.
Left him in this dark, empty keep, with its cold and drafty winds, its dark walls, and empty rooms. He could have lit a thousand candles and a thousand more fires, and none would have warmed the place or made it as bright as she had.
Alec stood at the window and watched as the cart made its way across the drawbridge and down the path. He continued to stare out the window, long after the cart, and the very last of the Mackintosh warriors were out of sight.
Never had he felt so utterly and profoundly empty.
He began to wander aimlessly through the keep. Touching things she had touched. The tapestries, the candlesticks, and sideboard, the pillows and rugs. Anything, just to feel a part of her again.
When he went to the kitchen, ’twas empty. He did not know, nor did he care where Adhaira was. He needed the quiet and emptiness.
Everything was just as she had made it to be. Homey, warm, and inviting, and well organized. Each of these things were hers. At one time, this had been her favorite place. She took great joy in cooking for him, for his men, for anyone.
He heard a scratch at the back door, then a whimper. He knew it was Satan before he opened the door. The black bandogge came inside, sniffing the floor, looking for his mistress. “She be gone,” Alec told him. “She has left us both.”
The dog whimpered, licked his drool laden chops once, before taking a spot by the cold hearth.
Feeling exhausted and numb, Alec sat on a stool next to his dog. He stroked the animal’s back as he continued to look about the space. Something on the shelf, under the center table caught his eye. ’Twas a small package, wrapped in linen, with a string tied aro
und it and a little bit of parchment. Curiosity won out, so he grabbed it and read the tiny note.
For Alec, was all it said.
Seeing no harm in opening it — for she was never coming back — he carefully untied the string. Carefully, he lifted away the corners and dumped the contents into the palm of his hand.
’Twas a plaid brooch. Beautifully crafted, carved in pewter. ’Twas the raven from the Bowie crest. Intricate and fine, with ruby red eyes.
Alec closed his eyes and pressed the brooch to his lips as he fought back the tears. This had to have been the gift she had spoken of weeks ago, but refused to tell him about. I must do this one thing on me own, Alec, with me own coin.
Everything she had done for him had been done because she loved him.
And he loved her.
Why wasn’t it enough?
Gently, he re-wrapped the brooch and put it back where he had found it. When he removed his hand, he knocked a bowl from the shelf, startling Satan. The dog lifted his head, looked up at Alec with sad eyes, before returning to his nap.
Alec stood, retrieved the bowl and returned it to the shelf. He debated on whether or not he should return the bandogge to his kennel, or allow him free reign of the keep. He chose the latter.
“Come, Satan,” he said as he stood at the door. The dog looked up, yawned a wide, drooling yawn, and laid his head back down. “Satan!” Alec said, more forcefully this time. Still, the dog ignored him. He hated doing it, truly he did. But he’d prefer the dog’s company over his own, so he relented. “Patches! Come!”
The dog thumped his tail once before he stretched and stood up to follow his master.
With Patches now dutifully following him, they ascended the stairs and returned to Alec’s bedchamber. Why he felt drawn to return to this place, he did not know. ’Twas filled with many happy memories, as well as several that bordered on ugly.
With a heavy heart, he wandered about the room without a clear reason or destination. He stopped at the little table where he had on occasion found his wife writing in one of her handmade journals. ’Twasn’t until he lit the candle that he saw something she had forgotten. The leather pouch she often wore on the belt at her waist. He sat in the small chair, it creaked and groaned in protest, used to, he supposed, his wife’s wee body.
Carefully, he withdrew the contents, one item at a time.
At first, ’twas a tiny bundle of dried heather. He pressed it to his nose and breathed in deeply. It reminded him of the soap she often used.
Next, he found a leather necklace with a round piece of pewter dangling from it. In its center was carved the letter R. He had no idea what or who the letter stood for. Carefully, he set it aside, next to the flowers.
Finally, he pulled out her small, leather bound journal. He flipped through the pages, thinking it was nothing more than a record of the goings on and daily life of the keep. Women, he knew, often kept their own records of such things.
But he was wrong. He found sonnets and poems, all on separate pieces of parchment, carefully folded and tucked inside. A date caught his eye. ’Twas from May of that year. He knew he probably should not read it, but he did.
I never thought this day would come, she had written. But it has. I will be married in three weeks time!
Me heart is filled with so much joy and surprise. I never thought I would marry, or have bairns of me own. I had resigned myself to dyin’ an auld maid, untouched and unloved.
But Alec Bowie needs a wife, and I volunteered. He accepted!
He be a handsome man, tall and braw and a voice, deep and warm that makes me stomach feel as though I have swallowed a bird who wants to take flight. I hope I do no’ disappoint him. I want to be a good wife and give him many bairns.
His chest felt tight, restricted, as if it were banded with iron as he read. Disappoint him? Nay, not once had she ever disappointed him. If anything, he had been in awe of her.
Before he realized it, he was reading every word of every page. The journal was filled with her fears, her worries, as well as her happiness. Page after page extolling his virtues as well as pointing out his flaws. These were her deepest, most private thoughts.
’Twas the last few pages that nearly sent him to his knees.
I love him. I love him more than I ever thought possible. But I have sorely disappointed him, for I lost the babe.
Alec can no’ look at me. He refuses to speak. He does not offer me any comfort. I can only think it is because I lost our babe, for I can think of no other reason for him to turn away, to stare at his feet all the while he sits in our room.
I want so desperately to tell him how I feel. That I love him with all of my heart, to tell him how much it hurts to lose our babe, to tell him I am sorry for lettin’ him down.
I wanted this babe more than I have ever wanted anythin’ in my life. The babe would love me without condition. I would be able to shower all my love on him or her, and no one would think me daft, for that is what good mothers do. They love their children. They protect them, teach them right from wrong, and give them all the love in their hearts.
I ken Alec can no’ love me, for I be one of those poor, wretched creatures that God puts on this earth, for whatever reason, to go the entirety of their lives without knowin’ deep down and without question, what it is like to be loved. Aye, we can love, but there be no one to love us back.
I can no’ stay here, knowin’ that Alec is unable to love me at all. Knowin’ that my heart will always be his. ‘Twould be too painful to keep these words to myself. I can no’ tell him, fer I ken he would no’ like it. We made a pact on the day I agreed to marry him, that this would never be a love match. He does no’ want that. He does no’ want a warm, happy home. He does no’ want me to love him. I can only love him the one way I know how – with all that I am. I have tried showin’ him, with all the cookin’ and cleanin’, washin’ his clothes, keepin’ a warm fire burnin’, and with all the lovin’ in our marital bed. Still, it be no’ enough. ’Twill never be enough to earn his love.
Tears fell from his eyes. Slowly, he shut the journal and returned it to her pouch. He knew then what he must do.
“Patches! Come!” he said as he leapt to his feet. He grabbed his cloak from the peg and bounded down the stairs, calling for his horse.
The journey was not easy, what with being tossed about in the back of the cart like leeks in a sack. They had been gone from the keep for several hours. Leona doubted they had made much progress. At this rate, it would take a fortnight to make it to St. Agnes’s convent.
They had stopped twice, once to answer nature’s call and once to eat. Leona could not help but think back to when Alec had brought her here, after they had married.
She felt ill at heart, exhausted, and bereft. She wondered if she would ever feel whole again. ’Twas highly doubtful.
Rose, to her credit, had remained quiet for most of the day. She offered no false words of hope for a good and happy future. Leona was thankful for that.
They were making their way over a small hill, when the men following behind them turned their horses around. Something had drawn their attention. Ian ran past the cart and past the men.
“What is happenin’?” Leona asked Rose.
“I do no’ ken,” she answered.
Long moments passed before she heard Ian shouting. Then came a familiar voice.
“If ye do no’ let me pass, I shall gut every one of ye!”
’Twas Alec!
She refused to let her heart run away with her mind. Nay, ’twas too much to hope for.
The horsemen soon parted, giving wide berth to Alec.
Och! He looked fit to be tied “Wife!” he called out to her from atop Ares.
Leona did not know what she should say or do. Rose gave her hand a gentle squeeze and whispered in her ear. “Pretend indifference,” she advised.
Indifference? Nay that is no’ possible, fer he looks ready to kill.
“Aye?” she managed to whimper.
>
“What are ye doin’ in the back of that cart?” he asked, drawing nearer and nearer the cart.
“He’s gone mad,” she whispered to Rose. “He is goin’ to kill me.”
Rose giggled. “Nay lass, that is no’ a man about to kill. That be a man in love.”
“Wife! Have ye lost yer hearin’?”
Leona shook her head rapidly.
“I have changed me mind,” he called to her as he inched he way toward the cart. “Ye can no’ leave.”
“I can’t?” she asked with a shaking voice.
Rose jabbed her in the ribs. “Ye do no’ ken it, but ye have the upper hand right now, Leona. If ye let him order ye about now, he will think he can order ye about all the rest of yer days.”
Leona glanced at Rose and finally began to understand. If Alec Bowie wanted her, he was going to have to fight for her. Taking a deep breath, she mustered every ounce of courage left in her bones. “Ye will no’ order me about, Alec Bowie. I be no’ one of yer warriors!”
“Leona, come here,” he said, still inching Ares closer and closer to the cart.
“I will no’!” she yelled back. “’Tis apparent ye do no’ want me!”
“Och! But I do. I have no’ had a decent meal in days. And me shirts need washin’. And I have a pair of trews that need mendin’. And a keep that needs cleanin’.”
To say she was appalled would have been a tremendous understatement of fact. Nay, she was livid. Furious!
She scooted to the edge of the cart. “Ye can go to the devil, Alec Bowie!” she shouted at him. “Ye are the most ungrateful, ignorant, low-born, bloody son-of-a-whore that ever graced God’s earth! I would rather die than take ye back!”
His ploy was working. ’Twas the first time in far too long that he saw a spark of life in those beguiling eyes. And she was making her way to the front of the cart, right where he wanted her.
“Och! Do no’ try to flatter me lass, fer it will no’ work.”
The Bowie Bride: Book Two of The Mackintoshes and McLarens Page 44