“Ye told him he would have to crawl?” Maldie said, her voice unsteady with a mixture of laughter and shock.
Balfour laughed softly. “There’s my lass.”
Maldie tsked and shook her head at him. “’Tis nay funny, Balfour.”
“Isnae it? Aye, her pain isnae funny at all, but what she left him with has a touch of humor in it.” He looked at Elspeth. “Ye salvaged whate’er pride ye think ye lost with those words, little one. I dinnae think ye lost your pride, but I ken that it will be a while ere ye can believe that. I am still nay sure why ye felt ye had to toss him your chastity, however.”
“Fither, he was, or believed he was, in love with another woman,” Elspeth said. “For ten years he had loved her, believed her a poor lass wronged and misused by her kinsmen, stood by her, felt himself bound by honor and vows, and had run to her side each time she called for him. He was almost completely faithful to her despite kenning that she was sharing the beds of her husbands.”
“And near every mon who went to the king’s court.”
“Aye, but Cormac didnae ken that. I think she was also his first woman. And, he was in love and entrapped when he was still a lad, and my brothers have shown me how hot passions and other feelings are at that age. How deep. Isabel wove her web around him then, and there he dangled. She always gave him just enough to keep him there. Any hint of wavering and she reminded him of his pledge, kenning how much he wanted, e’en needed to hold fast to his word and his honor. Ye cannae fight ten years of such blind devotion with smiles, soft words, or coy looks. I had to give him all she did and more. I am sorry if I have caused ye to lose faith in me,” she began.
“Nay, lass, ne’er that. Ye were fighting a battle against an older, more experienced foe, one with nary a scruple or a moral to hinder her. Ye had to use every weapon ye could. I understand. I may wish that one of the weapons ye chose wasnae your maidenhead, but I do understand. I am but troubled that ye paid a high price, that ye are here alone and hurt, mayhap by the fact that ye chose to barter that bounty on a mon too stupid to ken what he held—and that ye willnae let me kill him.”
Even though there was the bite of anger behind his last words, Elspeth knew that he did not truly wish to kill Cormac. By telling her tale as truthfully as modesty allowed, she had soothed away a murderous fury against her lover. She did notice, however, that her father made no promise not to hurt Cormac. Despite her own anger at the man, she hoped Cormac had the good sense to stay out of the reach of her father.
They talked for a little while longer, but there was really not much more to say on the matter. Elspeth noticed how carefully her parents tried not to give her even the faintest glimmer of hope. When they finally left, she sprawled on her back on her bed, staring blindly at the ceiling, Muddy settling himself comfortably at her side.
On the one hand, she felt a lot better now that the truth was out. On the other, she felt wretched because there was one possible truth she had kept to herself. The time for her menses had come and gone. It was still too early to be certain, but she could be carrying Cormac’s child. If she was, nothing, not even the reminder that she had chosen this path for herself, would ease her father’s anger.
After sending his messenger away, Cormac sank into a chair near the fire and sighed. “She is going to make me fight.”
William handed his brother a drink of wine, then sat down in a chair opposite him. “And will you?”
“I must.” He took a long drink of wine. “Still, something a little more than a simple thank-you could have helped me to decide just how to fight. The lad said she went marching out of the hall shortly after her father gave her my gift, then ran up the stairs as if the devil himself was tugging at her skirts. At least she reacted in some way, but was it from anger or confusion or…” He shrugged.
“If ’twas me, I would worry more on the message her father sent you.”
“Oh, aye.” Cormac winced. “I would rather not think on that.”
“I wonder what precious thing of yours he wants to break.”
Cormac gave his brother a look of pure disgust. “Dinnae play sweet and dumb. It truly doesnae suit you. I just wonder why he hasnae already appeared at my door, sword in hand, ready to separate me from my cullions.”
“Maybe the lass asked him not to?” William frowned. “Nay, that wouldnae matter.”
“It would in that family. True, he may have had to have been held down ere they could get him to listen, but Elspeth’s father would at least consider her wishes. Mayhap I should take that as a good sign. If she hated me, she would tell him to have at me.”
“I suppose.” William smiled at Christopher as the boy edged close to his father’s chair. “How are ye, laddie?”
“Fine, Uncle Will,” the boy replied; then he looked at Cormac. “Did your lady like the present?”
“She said thank ye,” Cormac replied, ruffling the boy’s bright curls.
“Am I going to meet her? Are ye going to marry her?”
“I dinnae ken yet, laddie. She is verra angry with me.”
“If we do see her, do ye think she will like me?”
Cormac hesitated only a moment. He saw Elspeth as a child refusing to leave him hurt and alone. He could see her raging at the village lads who had tormented that cat, then tenderly caring for the animal. He saw her shock, anger, and dismay when she found little Alan cast aside and left to die, emotions only enhanced when not one of the villagers would name or take in the child. And so she had taken the child herself. He looked at Christopher and smiled.
“Aye, she will like ye, Christopher. I have no doubt about that at all. ’Tis just me we have to get her to feel kindly toward.”
“Will Lady Isabel go with us?”
The boy stood tense, wide-eyed, and unsmiling. Yet again, Cormac saw silent proof that Isabel shared no bond with their child. Christopher acted afraid of his mother and Cormac wondered what she had done to the child the few times she had had anything to do with him. He actually hoped that there was no love or longing for his mother in Christopher, that Agnes had given the boy all he required, or the truth about his mother could leave him badly scarred.
“Nay. I told ye, son, ye will ne’er be seeing her again.” Since it was becoming more certain each day that Lady Isabel would be going to the gallows for her crimes, Cormac decided to touch on the matter a little now. “I fear she has made some verra bad mistakes, lad, and the ones she has wronged intend to make her pay for them. That is why ye will ne’er see her again—unless, weel, ye wish to visit her.”
“Nay,” Christopher replied quickly. “Nay, sir. She ne’er liked me. Nurse Agnes told me that it wasnae my fault, that there wasnae something wrong with me. Nurse Agnes said some people just dinnae have much heart in them, just dinnae ken how to care for another. Lady Isabel just doesnae have a big heart. Does your new lady have a big heart?”
“Oh, aye, a verra big one. I just have to make her let me back in.”
“Ye will, sir. Nurse Agnes says ye arenae too bad, for a mon. She says ye will eventually ken what must be said to mend things.”
As the days slipped by, Cormac began to think he ought to ask Nurse Agnes what to do. Elspeth continued to receive his gifts and messages with a cool courtesy at best and curt refusal at worst. His wooing of Elspeth appeared to be a dismal failure. More of his kinsmen arrived, including his brother Dougal who was barely a year younger than he. Cormac began to think that, if and when he did go after Elspeth, he would be dragging most of his family along with him.
Despite the protests of his family, Cormac attended the hanging. Someday his son might ask about his mother, and Cormac wished to be able to tell him the truth. It was also for the sake of his son that he collected Isabel’s body and saw to her burial when it became clear that her kinsmen would not. Alone at her graveside, he stared at the newly turned dirt and wondered yet again how she had managed to fool him so completely for so very long. When he turned to leave, he was surprised to find Dougal waiti
ng for him.
“Do we return home or do we ride to Donncoill?” Dougal asked.
Cormac sighed as they started to walk back to the cottage. “She hasnae asked me to come to her.”
“She hasnae told ye not to, either.”
“Nay, and I have to go. At least once, I must face her. She told me what I would have to do to win her back, but I had hoped to avoid it. It seems Elspeth meant every word she said that day.” He smiled when Dougal cursed. “I ken ye dinnae want me to do this.”
“Do ye expect me to encourage ye to humiliate yourself? Has this business with Isabel taught ye nothing?”
“Oh, aye, it taught me a lot. It taught me that, if a woman like Elspeth wants some sign, no matter how humiliating, that she means as much to me as Isabel did, I would be mad indeed not to give it to her.”
Chapter Eighteen
“This is going to hurt,” Cormac said quietly as he stared down at the rock-strewn path that led through the gates of Donncoill.
He sighed and stared at the keep, where Elspeth hid from him. In the last two months, even as he had helped to bring Isabel and her lover to justice, he had continued to ply Elspeth with messages and gifts. Cautiously at first and then with an ever growing frequency as he continued to receive back only brief words of thanks for his gifts and hard-wrung words of passion. A few gifts had even been returned as items a gentleman should not send to an aquaintance. That stung. Elspeth had even thrown some of his own foolish words back in his face. This was his last chance.
Cormac had hoped, right up to the last minute, that it would not come to this, that pretty words and gifts would be enough. He should have known better. Elspeth had her pride and he had ground it into the dust. If anyone should understand how that felt, it was he. She had given him everything she had to give and he had treated it callously. He had done to Elspeth what Isabel had done to him. It was somewhat galling to know that Elspeth had the strength and wisdom to step out of such a trap, something he had never found. If it took such a grand gesture to win her back, that was what she would have.
“Are ye sure ye wish to do this?” asked his brother Dougal for what had to be the hundredth time.
Glancing back at Christopher, Agnes, and the six brothers and seven cousins who had trailed along with him, Cormac smiled faintly. “Nay, but I will.” He briefly looked at a solemn Payton, who still stood holding the reins of the mare Cormac had brought for Elspeth, another gift she had politely refused. “Aye, I must.”
“I would have thought ye had had more than enough of tossing your pride at the feet of some lass.”
“Oh, aye, more than enough. However, unlike Isabel, Elspeth tossed her pride at my feet and I was too stupid to see what a precious gift that was. So ’tis time I repaid that in kind. I just pray that she doesnae make me do it for verra long, that, despite how poorly I treated her, she still feels a kindness toward me.”
Payton glanced at Christopher, who stood next to Dougal and watched Cormac with wide eyes. “It may have been wise to tell her about the lad ere ye set him afore her.”
“I thought it would best be done face-to-face,” Cormac said. “A woman can sometimes think a child is proof of deep feelings between the two who created it. I want Elspeth to be able to look into my eyes and see that that isnae true.” Cormac shrugged. “I also thought that, if she could just see the boy, she wouldnae mix him up in her mind with Isabel.”
“Aye, now that I think on it, that may actually be the wiser way.”
“Ye need not act so surprised. I can show a flicker of wit from time to time.” He smiled faintly when Payton laughed. “I was surprised when none of you came after me.”
“It was tempting at first, but once it was clear ye were trying to woo the lass, tempers eased.” Payton glanced toward the keep. “Weel, at least the men’s did. Are ye really going to do this?” he asked, looking back at Cormac.
“Aye, it seems I must.”
“I cannae believe Elspeth is going to make ye do this. ’Tis nay like her to be so mean-spirited, so unforgiving.”
“Have ye e’er been in love, Payton? Have ye e’er given someone all ye have and had them toss it back in your face?”
“Nay,” Payton replied quietly. “Is that what ye did?”
“Feel like killing me now, do ye?”
“Pondering it. So is that really what ye did?”
“’Tis what she says I did and who would ken it better than she? And who would ken better than I just how that feels? I dinnae want to do this. A part of me is choking on the verra thought of enduring the humiliation. Ah, but then I recall the emptiness that has rested inside me since she walked away. Anger will pass, humiliation will ease, but I ken without doubt that, if I dinnae get her back, the emptiness will set there all the rest of my days.”
“Weel, get on with it then,” snapped Dougal, “and ignore me if I weep o’er the shame of it all.”
“’Tis good for a mon to have the support of his family,” drawled Payton, and he grinned when Cormac laughed. “If it is any consolation,” he said more seriously as Cormac slowly knelt down on the ground, “when my aunt sees what ye are doing, even if Elspeth hesitates, she willnae allow it to go on. At least ye will get the chance to meet with the lass and talk to her.”
“Aye, that does help some,” said Cormac.
It took every ounce of will he possessed to start along the path on his hands and knees. He had to bludgeon his pride into submission and blind himself to the fact that far too many people watched him. Cormac prayed that Payton was right in saying it would not be allowed to continue for very long. He was more than willing to make the gesture, but he was not sure how long he could endure this blow to his pride. Right or wrong, it would begin to choke him until he and Elspeth found themselves with yet another obstacle to overcome.
“She sent the mare back to him,” said Maldie as she strode into the bedchamber she shared with her husband
“Now that is a shame. ’Twas a fine horse,” murmured Balfour as he stared out the window at the large group of young men just outside his gates.
Maldie joined her husband at the window and frowned. “She kens he is out there, but says naught. She is a stubborn lass. I understand her hurt and anger, but she needs to relent some or she could end up cutting off her own nose just to spite her face.”
“’Tis early in the game yet, love. Aye, she shouldnae let him ride away, but seeing as he shows no sign of doing so, let it rest. The lass may just be feeling wary and needs to take a breath or two to clear her head. I dinnae think she believed he would come.”
“She wouldnae allow herself to even think it.” She frowned at the small crowd outside the gates. “What is he doing now?”
Balfour cursed in surprise, then laughed softly. “He is crawling.”
“Oh, nay. Nay.” Maldie started toward the door. “That cannae happen. She will go to him now e’en if I must drag her there myself by the hair.”
“Are ye certain ye should interfere?”
“Aye. For one thing, she cannae see his grand gesture from her bedchamber. For another, if ’tis allowed to go much beyond a gesture, ’twill sit in his innards like a poison. Elspeth will suffer, too, for she would ne’er truly wish him to humble himself completely.”
“A shame,” Balfour muttered as his wife ran out of the room. “He probably willnae be down there long enough to even mar his fine hose.” He started to follow his wife. Then he realized that she would be returning in a minute or two, so he hurried back to the window. “Ye won, lassie,” he said and wondered just how and when he should do a little interfering of his own.
Elspeth stared at the short note that had come with the mare.
I have come for you, my heart.
Cormac
What arrogance, she thought, even as her traitorous heart beat with anticipation. He was so close. He said he wanted her. Why, she wondered, was she not racing out there to hurl herself into his arms?
“Because I am terrified,” she
admitted aloud and was disgusted with herself.
For two long months she had lived a perfectly hellish existence. When she was not numb with exhaustion, she was crippled with pain. A thousand times she had found herself wondering what else she could have done to make Cormac love her. Good sense told her she had done all any woman could, but her emotions did not respond well to good sense.
He had hurt her so. Some of it was her own fault. She had expected too much, too soon. The truth did not lessen her pain, however. In none of his notes did he declare that he loved her. He asked forgiveness, called her sweet, loving names, spoke of his need for her and his want, and wooed her in the sweetest way. If there had never been an Isabel, she would have been won over. Now, even though he had begun wooing her before Isabel had been executed, she was left to wonder if she was just a second choice. After all, he had learned the truth about Isabel before he had begun to send his gifts and love notes. He had not willingly left the woman to come to her.
When the door to her bedroom was flung open, Elspeth stared at her mother in shock. “Is something wrong?”
“Ye will come with me, Elspeth Murray,” Maldie said as she grabbed her daughter’s hand and dragged her out of her room. “There is something ye have to see. I pray ye dinnae disappoint me in how ye react when ye see it.”
Elspeth hurried to keep pace with her mother, who was practically running down the hall. When they entered her parents’ bedchamber, she saw her father standing at the window and smiling faintly. A moment later her mother pushed her in front of the same window.
“Look there, Elspeth,” Maldie ordered, pointing toward the gates.
At first, Elspeth was not sure what she was supposed to be looking at. Then her gaze fell upon the man crawling along the path that led to the gates. She gasped and gripped the edge of the narrow window, unable to believe her eyes. Then she became utterly horrified by what was happening. For all of her angry words when she and Cormac had parted, this was not what she wanted. Softly crying out a denial, she hiked up her skirts and raced out of her parents’ room, heedless of everything and everyone, save for the need to get to Cormac as fast as she could.
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