by Anne Greene
He sat straighter, his chocolate eyes dark. “Yes, let’s talk.” Then he appeared to change his mind, drew her closer, and began to nuzzle her hair.
Gently she pushed him away. “No, Avondale. Tell me the truth.”
His eyebrows rose. “Come, Cailin. I’ve a need to more than talk with you.” Suddenly he stood, swept her into his arms, and strode to their bed. As if nothing else in the world mattered, he placed her in the middle, pulled off her slipper, and massaged her right instep.
Though her heart ached, he looked so boyish and eager, she couldn’t help but smile.
He unbuttoned his stained shirt.
She stopped his hand. “Tell me. Where did you disappear to tonight?”
His loving expression changed. He dropped his hand from his mostly unbuttoned shirt. “Your guard dog didn’t follow me did he? I managed to elude him.” His smile suddenly looked odd and off-kilter.
The slight comfort she’d taken in his earlier actions faded.
“You see, you cannot control me. I may live from the good bounty of your father, but you cannot command me.”
She shrank back into the cushions. The flash of anger in his eyes surprised her. Though he’d fathered the child nestled inside her womb, how little she knew Avondale. “I do not desire to master you. I merely want to know where you went. You’ve been outside. You might get hurt…alone in the dark.”
He turned on her and gripped her wrist so that it burned. Heat penetrated deep within the ring of his fingers. “Have I not been the best of husbands to you? Have I not fulfilled my husbandly duty and given you what you wanted, an heir?” He dropped her wrist, and paced the room. “Or is it I who wanted the heir?” He scowled. “And yet you must know where I am at all times. You are not my mother.” He stopped and glared. “Call off your watch dog. I will not be treated like a child.”
She fell against the pillows, confusion swirling inside her brain. This was a side of Avondale she hadn’t expected. She must instruct Rafe to be discreet. Perhaps he should move into the adjoining apartment. Protect her and her unborn child if Avondale became violent.
His voice rose. “I gave you my title and my protection. For no fault of my own, I married below my station. Now I live in this awkward, back country castle. What more do you want from me!” His face grew red.
Her heart slid to her stomach. Disappointment swept her smile away. Not only was he unstable, she…she hadn’t pleased him. A cold fog settled inside her breast.
He rattled on. “I do all this so the royal mother can keep her estates and her reputation. Dash it all, what do I get in return? You order a big brute of a man to guard me. I will not become a prisoner in this castle.” His leashed strength, clearly visible in his bunched muscles, waited to break free.
She sat upright and braced her arms back against the pillows. “Avondale, Rafe follows you to keep you safe. I don’t understand your behavior.”
His anger crumpled. “You don’t understand? You don’t understand! What about me?”
Fear evaporated at the expression of pain on his face.
He clenched his upraised fists. “How would you like to wake up in a place you don’t comprehend how you got to? You have no inkling why you are there. You find yourself with a blighter you don’t even know, or with someone you’re afraid you may have injured.” He knelt beside her in the bed, his knees pressing her thigh.
She reached out and pulled him into her arms. Perhaps, after all, she didn’t want to know what was wrong with him. His problems were too deep. His feelings too intense.
He buried his face in her neck. “I don’t know what happens.” His deep, baritone broke, scraping the edge off his voice. “One minute everything seems fine. The next I find myself in an unusual place…with no memory of how I got there…and no memory of why I’m there.” He jerked upright, grabbed his hair with both hands, and gazed wide-eyed. “And no memory of what I’ve done.”
She tried to simply breathe. One breath in, one breath out. “We’ll conquer this, darling. Together, we’ll find a solution.” She brushed his perspiration damp hair back from his forehead and kissed the top of his thick brown hair. Chills raced through her heart. Avondale’s problems were so hurtfully knotty.
“No. This isn’t something we can work out. When I was a child, the royal mother chased the voices away.”
“Voices?”
Oh God, what kind of man did you let me marry?
He swallowed, clamped his lips, and his eyes grew hooded. “Perhaps we should discuss this in the morning.” His face changed as he thought better of sharing his secretive revelation. Then he blurted, “When I was younger, I felt certain everyone else heard my voices. Then the royal mother decreed that wasn’t so. She said I must keep quiet about the voices. She forbade me to tell anyone. Said if I were declared incompetent, we’d lose everything—title, lands, money.”
She scooted slightly away from his muscular body. She didn’t want to hear about the voices, either. They caused goose bumps to dot her arms and fear to clutch her heart. Yet, she’d been shielded all her life. It was time now to face her responsibility. She must help her husband. She pressed a hand against the side of her mouth. “When do you hear these voices?”
“Not often. Not for a long time. That is, before I married you, I hadn’t heard them for a number of months. Then the royal mother ordered me to marry you.”
Though she’d always known the circumstances of her marriage, to hear them spoken so openly made her cringe inside. She hid her feelings. His problem needed solving, not hers. Every titled lady faced her identical situation. She should have been immune to being treated as property.
A faint smile played over his lips. “I’m glad the royal mother chose you and not Lady Isobel. You are so beautiful. So sweet. So giving. I had no wish to marry. But you are a gift.” He took her tense hand in his warm, gentle one. “And I love you.”
She pushed the vision of Lady Isobel, the rich, skinny, pouting spinster, to the back of her mind. She’d known from babyhood she’d been destined to enter an arranged marriage. She’d believed her love could overcome any barrier. She pulled her hand away. Now she wasn’t so certain. Avondale had seemed a perfect match. And she’d been happy, at least when they were alone. And somehow, she’d thought together they would overcome this problem, and she could make him content. Thought she would have a good marriage. Thought she would make a loving, joyous, normal home for their child. Now, she was not certain happiness could ever be theirs.
Why had Avondale’s voices returned?
“You’re not pleased with me, Avondale. Is that why the voices came back?”
Crystal pools of sorrow filled his brown, puppy eyes. “Oh, no, Cailin.” He traced a finger over her face. “You surpass all my expectations.”
“Then why did the voices return?”
He buried his head in her breast. She barely heard his teeth-grinding grunt.
“I’m shamed.”
She lifted his face so that he must look at her. “But why? I know of no nobility who hasn’t entered an arranged marriage.”
“Dear heart, our marriage is not the problem. The tragedy happened before we wed.” He shut his eyes. “The voices returned because of what I did.”
She urged and urged, but he would say no more.
Fully clothed, sprawled in the bed beside her, he turned on his side away from her, and closed his eyes.
What awful thing could he have done that stood to ruin their marriage? That made her doubt her ability to make him happy? Was she destined to have a masquerade of a marriage rather than a true blending of soul, heart, and body?
Could she live that way? What other option did she have? She would never accept Rafe’s suggestion of an arranged accident happening to Avondale.
Not unless her child was in danger.
16
Cailin gathered her skirts and plopped down beside Megan in the nook beneath the budding roses woven over the arbor. She yearned to enjoy this first bright Ju
ne day since Megan’s final trip last night to rescue the last of the wounded Highlanders. Cailin pulled in a breath of sweet spring air. “I think Fiona’s party yesterday was quite successful.”
The cold rocks of Castle Drummond loomed behind her. In front stretched their fertile farmlands, dotted with the crofts Papa provided for his tenants. She couldn’t see the broch on the back side of the castle where Megan and Brody hid the men, but it seldom left her thoughts. Megan and Brody had the survivors safe in the broch now, so she could delicately bring up her problem.
“Yes, and I expect Fiona will have a steady influx of male callers soon.” Megan gazed out at the paddock and the horses.
Cailin bent to pick up her tapestry bag of knitting. She’d brought Megan to the arbor to talk with her about Avondale’s strange behavior. She’d seen too little of her sister since Megan spent her time rescuing the wounded men, but she wanted to seek her counsel.
Avondale’s behavior was driving her to the end of her wits. And she had to admit, anger caught her by the throat when she thought of his antics. She’d tried her best to soothe, heal, and coax her husband into confiding in her. Today, she’d even stooped to ordering her maid to spy on him. But she’d not spoken to Avondale since he’d turned from her last night. Nor had she seen Fiona.
But she was having a hard time talking to Megan about Avondale. She gazed at the land spread before her. Spirited horses frolicked in their paddocks as happy to see spring as she. Newly foaled babies on spindly legs nursed, and yearlings raced, brown hides shining, heads held high, and short manes flowing. How she adored this estate.
And when Papa died, all the land and possessions would pass to Avondale as eldest son-in-law. But, if he were proven incompetent, and she had no male heir, the crown could step in and seize their entire estate and all its holdings. She caressed her stomach. So much depended on the little one nestled inside her womb. Such a responsibility for a baby.
“Are you happy with your husband?” Cailin lowered her head, letting her unbound hair hide her hot cheeks. She plucked a rosebud, inspected it for bees, held the sweet fragrance to her nose, and inhaled deeply. Anyone with eyes could see Megan bloomed like the red rosebud Cailin held.
“Humph. And is doing your duty to family a lighthearted thing for you?” Megan frowned.
Why did Megan not answer the simple question? Brody was such a fine man.
“I’m not speaking of duty. I’m speaking of love.” Cailin picked a dainty piece of half-finished blue garment and tiny needles from her knitting bag. Last night she’d lacked courage to insist her husband tell her what happened. She was not at all sure she possessed the strength to hear his answers.
“Love?” Megan gazed across the lawn at Papa, draped over the front of the horse paddock.
Cailin frowned, her attention caught by Avondale cantering smartly towards the stable. Surprise, he was home!
He jumped off with a flourish and handed his horse’s bridle to a stable boy. Taller than Papa, he was not as broad, but far more athletic. Her husband’s brown hair and mahogany eyes presented quite a pleasing picture. Unlike last night, this morning he appeared calm, arrogant, and totally in control of himself and his surroundings.
How looks could deceive. He’d been out of his head last night. Why would he not confide in her? Was it because he sensed that part of her did not want to know? Did not want to wrestle with such insurmountable difficulties?
“Seems your husband has many errands away from the castle.” Megan frowned and tossed her bud to the gravel path. “He knows Brody’s a Highlander, doesn’t he?”
Cailin gazed intently at her knitting. “Yes, Avondale is absent much of the time.” She pressed her lips together, and then looked up. “Though we haven’t spoken of Brody, I’m certain Avondale knows he’s a Highlander.”
She gazed at her husband’s features, as handsome in his aristocratic way as Megan’s husband’s more rugged face. And Avondale’s regal presence was as strong as the Highlander’s more earthy one. Both men were outstanding specimens of manhood.
But Brody was so much easier to talk with. While Avondale disappeared each day, she had often found herself in Brody’s presence. She’d look up from whatever she was doing and there he was trailing after her. Their conversations always turned to Megan.
Cailin smiled. She’d never seen a man more in love with his wife.
“Lord Avondale must have a touch of Welsh to have his coloring.”
“Yes.” Cailin stared at Avondale and Papa standing together, watching the horses running loose in the paddock. “Avondale doesn’t show it in public, but he’s kind and good-hearted.” She enjoyed looking at her husband during his rare daytime appearances. A smile played over her lips. If only he didn’t have his awful spells.
“Bosh! I think him cold and stuffy.”
She stiffened. “Careful Megan. You’re speaking of the man I love.”
“But you scarcely know him.”
“We’ve been wed more than three months. The same as you and Brody. Don’t tell me you two turtledoves didn’t enjoy those long evenings in your room where you two scamper so soon after dinner,” she teased.
How well she knew about long evenings alone with a husband. Those times with Avondale were her only means of not losing her own mind. When they were alone, Avondale’s brown velvet eyes gazed into hers with warmth and appreciation. The man changed into an entirely different person when the sun rose.
Megan plucked a rose and used the bud to hide the blush coloring her face. The few occasions she blushed, she turned beet-red, and she looked neither dainty, nor ladylike. “You’re everything a woman should be. While I, myself—” Megan shrugged. “I’m only the second daughter, not the son Papa prayed for. He’s never forgiven me for being a lass. Nor for wedding—”
Cailin put a hand on her sister’s lips. “I’m with child, Megan.” She’d heard these laments before, and today had more urgent things to discuss. “I had no show these three months, and I feel so full here.” She pressed her bodice. Her cheeks burned.
Megan squealed and grabbed her hands. “I’m so happy for you.” She lifted her fingers and counted out nine. “The baby will be born in January. A New Year’s child. I’ll be an auntie. We’ll have lovely baby sounds and sweet smells and laughter filling the castle.”
“Yes. I’m so very pleased and yet, I need to ask you—”
“And you’ll be too preoccupied with the baby to spend so much time with Brody after he mends.”
Cailin gasped. True, she and Brody had been together a lot, but—”I’m so sorry, I had no idea you didn’t want me to spend time with Brody. I’ve not seen him since he’s been wounded. Before that, it was just that Avondale’s gone so much, and you seemed—”
“Of course I don’t really mind all the time you two spent together. I’m not keeping charge of his schedule.” Her sister didn’t look her in the eyes.
“Perhaps you’ll be a mother soon, as well.” Cailin squeezed her hand. “Our babies can grow up together. Play together. Learn together. Be as close as you and I.”
Megan frowned. “Blatherskites. You’re the golden lass who has grown into a golden woman. And now you’ll be the golden mother. I’ve been so preoccupied worrying about Brody, I missed noting your happiness and bursting beauty.”
Cailin forced a smile. Golden only to those who didn’t know her real situation. She felt shriveled inside. And lonely. In public Avondale barely spoke to her. Even those rare times they dined together, he never spoke. Nor did he so much as smile at her as the men left for cigars and whist.
She hated being snubbed. She so wanted to confront him, but she feared that would send him into more nightmares and ravings. She wouldn’t be a nagging wife. His nightmares made him so upset, she didn’t know if he might become violent. Last night for the first time, she’d feared him. So, today she’d seen to it that only a door separated their room from Rafe’s, because Avondale was so strong that with one swipe of his large fist, he co
uld kill or injure their unborn baby.
And she’d had to invite his mother to return to give her advice on how to handle her husband. He was so very odd. Would her baby be odd also? Why was her marriage in such a tangle?
“Then there’s Aunty Moira, so excited after I introduced her to Brody’s friend, Ian. They were immediately attracted to one another. That was a marriage conceived in heaven. Or, more exactly, conceived by me. Your marriage and Aunty’s are so happy.” Megan’s bright hair hid her downcast face.
Cailin tried to keep her mouth from dropping open. “Are you saying yours is not?”
“I like Brody. Even admire him. But since our marriage, his enormous pride stands between us like a stone wall.”
Cailin twirled the prickly stem of a rose in her fingers. “You can forgive him that.”
But the cold silence Avondale gave her. That she didn’t know how to overcome. With his frosty dark eyes, his broad shoulders and his look of haughty wealth, in public he was so very intimidating. Yet he was so very loving in private. The private one she admired and loved with all her heart. The public one she could so easily let herself despise. Then there was the third man, the haunted one who suffered nightmares. The man she now feared.
Nor was she anxious to feel the weight of the wrath Rafe told her about. Avondale was a man of impassioned temper. Goose bumps crawled on her arms. And the voices he’d mentioned. The very thought sent cramps to her stomach that made the baby kick.
She’d prayed about her marriage situation, but God hadn’t spoken. Why, with the very things she deemed most important, did God choose to remain silent? Perhaps God was testing her. His word said He loved her. She believed His word. “Do you think God tests those He loves?”
Megan smiled. “I think all of life is a test. And yes, God truly tests those He loves. Why?”
Cailin had tried to soften Avondale’s heart, but he gave her such withering looks in public, that in private she had not the heart to bring up the prickly subject of his public behavior. So she’d spent time with Brody and taken to visiting the broch and seeing to the feeding of the wounded men hiding there.