A Price to Be Paid: A Scottish Highlander Romance (Legacy of the Laird Book 2)

Chapter 26

Lilidh squeezed the dishrag, watching the water catch in the basin. It was mostly clear, with only a hint of red. A definite improvement.

Mathe’s face was healing well. For the past two days, Lilidh had woken to a noticeable decrease in the swelling, and today for the first time she could see his left eye. His skin was still bruised, but not like it was when they’d brought him in, when the whole side of his face was a dark and angry purple.

Lilidh shivered at the memory. He’d been limp, like a corpse, with a rag tied around his thigh that was soaked through with blood. When they laid him out she almost hadn’t recognised her husband, and she’d looked on his face with growing horror. What had they done to him? Thankfully, the castle physician was both talented and determined, and he worked patiently on Mathe throughout the night. The following morning, though, Mathe had remained unconscious.

“It’s normal after an experience of great trauma,” the physician had explained. “The mind will shut down to protect itself, and to heal. Yer husband was subjected to a terrible ordeal.”

Lilidh had stayed with Mathe since then, with Margaret organising for someone else to cover her shifts. Fynn had been spending all his days with one of the serving girls, and having a boy in the castle seemed to be something of a novelty. He knew Mathe was hurt, but no more than that. She didn’t think it would be fair to let the boy see him in his current state; unconscious and damaged.

With a sigh, Lilidh continued to press the cold cloth against Mathe’s face, dabbing gently. He looked so peaceful, like he had simply lain down for a rest, his chest rising and falling softly, breath warm.

Lilidh willed him to wake up and return to her.

Laird Blaine had stayed away since Mathe was brought in, and Lilidh wondered what she would say when she saw him again. Sitting beside her husband had given her time to think on the situation they’d all found themselves in, and she considered all the promises made and broken. What had Mathe demanded as payment, to make him risk everything the way that he had?

A knock interrupted her thoughts, and Lilidh looked up to see Torrey standing at the door. She looked hesitant.

“Come in,” Lilidh said.

The girl entered and took a seat. “How are ye faring?” she asked.

“As well as I can,” Lilidh said. “Margaret is looking after me.”

“Aye. She says that yer husband risked his life for the laird.”

Lilidh nodded. “He did.”

“He’s a brave man.”

Lilidh didn’t respond, but felt her eyes sting with tears. Torrey stood rather awkwardly and laid one hand on her shoulder.

“Be strong,” she said. “Nessa is recovering and sends her wishes.”

Lilidh gave her a grateful smile and the girl left. Turning back to Mathe, she dried his face and pulled the chair closer so that she could lie on his chest, closing her eyes and listening to his heartbeat, letting it lull her into sleep.

* * *

When Lilidh woke again,she knew she wasn’t alone.

She couldn’t say why, but the room felt different. She lifted her head and looked around. Standing at one edge of the room, looking down at her husband with a frown, was the Lady Kenzie McCaskill.

Lilidh felt a chill. She’d never spoken to the lady before and had only seen her a handful of times; she was normally busy with her bairn, and the running of the McCaskill clan. Kenzie was young; much younger than her, and yet Lilidh felt suddenly fearful of the other woman. She held so much power in her hands, and had little love for Mathe MacBrennan.

“The physician tells me he is recovering,” Kenzie said finally.

Lilidh nodded. “Aye, although he remains asleep, as ye can see.”

“I can.” Kenzie looked down at Lilidh for the first time, and her mouth tightened. “Did ye know, Lilidh, I spent many years believing that yer husband murdered my father?” she asked.

“Nay,” Lilidh answered, “although I cannae blame ye.”

“No” because of any proof, ye ken. Only because MacBrennan was the auld Laird McCaskill’s lieutenant, and would often do his dirty work. And there was naught dirtier than what happened to my father.”

Lilidh simply nodded, unsure if the Lady McCaskill even wanted her to respond. She had a sudden sense that Kenzie didn’t speak of such things often, and certainly not to a woman who might as well have been a stranger to her.

“My uncle was killed in the fighting,” Kenzie continued. “My father’s brother. They were close, and we held a funeral for him in the forest hall. It was a silly thing to do, in hindsight; the hall was deep in the woods and didnae have the protection offered by Castle McPhee. But my uncle was a woodsman, and it was his wish. Midway through the funeral, the McCaskills surrounded the hall and set it alight. They’d come in secret, passing across the Dundonnell miles upstream, and set a trap.”

“What happened?” she whispered.

Kenzie gave a bitter smile. “The McPhees fought their way out. I wasnae there, but my brother was, and he was taken away to safety. He wasnae the target, though. My father was captured and dragged away before the bulk of our soldiers from the castle could rally. They took him back to Dun Lagaidh, and we never saw him again. It was a turning point; both in the war, and in the nature of it.”

She fell silent and looked back down at Mathe again with hard eyes. Lilidh felt like drawing her arm across her husband, but pushed the protective urge away. “Mathe came home the next day and was in some distress,” she said instead. “He told me that the Laird McPhee - yer father - was in the dungeon.”

Kenzie nodded. “Last week Blaine told me that MacBrennan denies killing my father.”

“He wasnae involved,” Lilidh said. “I know my husband was a feared man and did terrible things. But I also remember how upset he was at yer father’s capture. I remember, because it had agitated him like naught I’d seen before. He didnae agree with it and thought the laird had acted without honour. It… It was the only time I ever remember him being critical of the laird.”

“I have nay reason to doubt ye; as I said, I have nay proof. It’s simply hard to let go of so many years of hatred.” Kenzie’s eyes returned to her.

“I ken,” Lilidh said.

“Did ye know I once told Blaine that ye and I were alike?”

“Oh?”

“Aye. The auld Laird McCaskill had done terrible things to both of us. I hated the McCaskills when I was a young girl, and that hatred shaped my life for many years. It took a long time to overcome it, with the help of Blaine. I suspect a similar hatred drove ye.”

Lilidh nodded slowly. It did. She’d hated her husband for the man he became, and the things that he had done. And she’d hated the old laird for the way he took her husband when he was young and full of life and hope, and twisted him into MacBrennan.

“I’m so tired of hating,” Lilidh whispered.

“Aye. It keeps ye warm, but it also burns away yer soul. I think I prefer forgiveness, these days.”

“Towards everyone?”

Kenzie’s eyes hardened again. “To those who demonstrate a reason for it. Some people are beyond forgiveness.”

Lilidh hesitated. “Like Mathe?”

“Forgetting the sins of the past, Mathe returned with noble goals,” Kenzie said, shaking her head. “Love and redemption cannae be understated. And he risked his life to uncover a great danger to my husband, so I cannae overlook that. Is it enough to forgive him?”

“I hope so,” Lilidh said softly.

Kenzie looked down at her shrewdly. “Are ye hoping that I can forgive him, or that ye can?”

Lilidh smiled sadly. “I dinnae know. I love him, but he lied to me.”

“Do we judge men on their intentions, or their actions?”

“I dinnae know his intentions, yet,” Lilidh said. “Only his actions.”

Lady Kenzie McCaskill walked over to the bed and laid her hand down on Mathe’s chest. It rose and fell with his breath, and she looked down with a slight frown. Then she looked away, her eyes falling back to Lilidh.

“I hope yer husband wakes soon, so ye can learn if his intentions are worthy of forgiveness or no”,” she said. “I will keep him in my thoughts.”

Lilidh nodded, overcome, and turned back to Mathe so Kenzie wouldn’t see her tears. She wondered how difficult it must have been for the Lady McCaskill to come into this room and see him again after so many years, and the secret hatred she’d held in her heart for all of that time. Her footsteps receded down the hall and Lilidh drew a shuddering breath, wondering at the power of forgiveness, as she lay her head back down on Mathe’s chest.

* * *

She wasn’t quite awake,nor was she exactly sleeping, and Lilidh slowly became aware of a fingertip stroking her hair. It felt soothing, and she concentrated on the feeling; the way the finger trailed through the strands and lightly scratched her scalp, gently massaging. She snuggled closer and let the sensation pull her further towards sleep until she was struck by a single rational thought and opened one eye.

Mathe was looking down at her with a weak smile on his face.

Lilidh sat up quickly. “Mathe,” was all she said, and then she sank back down onto his chest once more. He continued to stroke her hair even as Lilidh felt herself sob, and the fear of the last few days found its way out. She found herself clutching him. Her arms wrapped protectively around him and she held onto his sides tightly, as if he was made of smoke and would blow away from her at any moment. He made soothing sounds and stroked her hair, and they lay together for long moments.

“How long?” he asked finally, his voice cracked and thick.

“Five days,” she whispered.

She felt him nod slowly. “Five days…” he said. “Ye”re still here.”

Lilidh raised her head and pulled herself into a sitting position. She looked down at him, lying broken, and felt such a complicated mixture of emotions that she didn’t know how to take his words. Was he grateful? Disbelieving?

“I’m still here,” she said.

Mathe nodded. “I dinnae deserve to wake up to my wife after the things I’ve done.”

“I didnae say I’d be here tomorrow,” Lilidh said, half in jest, but Mathe nodded with such seriousness that she regretted the words.

“Aye. And I wouldnae blame ye one whit,” he said. “I came home to make amends with ye, and I apologised, and I swore I’d changed. And yet here I am, still making the same auld mistakes. Apologising again, swearing to ye a second time that I can change.” Mathe shook his head, his face grim. “It feels hollow. I’ve done the wrong thing, Lilidh, and ye deserve better.”

“I deserve honesty,” Lilidh replied.

“Aye, ye do. So I’ll be honest with ye, then. What ye saw, when I was wearing my auld things, was an act. A sham. I was acting for Laird McCaskill, and I regret every second of it.”

“I know.”

Mathe frowned. “Ye do?”

“Aye,” Lilidh said. “Blaine told me the truth when I fled to the castle. He didnae tell me everything, though. I know what ye did, but the laird wouldnae tell me why ye did it.”

“I see,” Mathe said. “No” that it matters, I suppose.”

“Why no”? I’d argue that it matters a great deal.”

“I had an agreement with the laird. I’d give him something, and he’d give me something in return. Except I wasnae able to get him what he wanted, so it doesnae really matter what my price was. I’ve thrown away the two things that matter the most to me, and all for naught.”

Once again Lilidh thought of Lady Kenzie’s words, and her reaction; the bone-deep tiredness of living with hate. But what was the price of forgiveness? “What did ye ask of the laird, Mathe?” she asked quietly.

Mathe looked down at her. “A house for ye and yer bhobain.”

Lilidh felt the tears returning, and she blinked them away. Did it change anything to know that he’d done it all for them? He’d still lied and held things from her, and acted contrary to his promise. Did his intentions truly outweigh that?

“Why didnae ye speak to me?” she asked.

“I didnae want ye to…” Mathe paused, then shook his head. “I was about to say that I didnae want ye to worry, but that’s no” the truth.” He took a deep breath. “The truth is that I was ashamed. I’m ashamed of the man I was, Lilidh, because I was nay man at all. I let the auld laird control me, and I always blamed others for my own decisions. It was always somebody else’s fault. It was always just circumstance. I took the easy way out, again and again, to avoid passing judgement on myself.”

Mathe drew a shuddering breath, and Lilidh reached out and squeezed his hand. She’d never seen him like this; so vulnerable, and it scared her even as she felt his pain.

“And so,” he continued, “when I agreed to help the laird, I told myself that it was just what had to be done. I’d made a promise to ye, and this was how I could achieve it.” Lilidh opened her mouth to protest, but Mathe raised his hand. “I know what ye’re going to say, and of course I was too much of a fool to see it earlier.”

“I didnae need ye to get me a house,” Lilidh said.

“Ye just needed me to be there,” Mathe finished for her. “Once again, I’d blamed someone else for my decisions. It was what Blaine wanted. I didnae have a choice. Except, I did have a choice, all along. I’d just lost sight of it. I could have stepped back, apologised to the laird, and been there for my wife and son. I could have stopped trying to find what I thought ye both needed and given ye what ye actually needed. And for that, Lilidh MacBrennan, I’m more sorry that I could ever tell ye.”

Lilidh looked down and watched as her tears dropped onto Mathe’s chest. He reached one hand up and used his thumb to wipe them away, and his own eyes were clouded with emotion. Lilidh felt the tiredness return again; the exhaustion. She didn’t know if Mathe deserved forgiveness, but she knew that the thought of facing the world alone once more filled her with a great and terrible sadness.

“Lilidh,” he said, “I willnae blame ye for whatever action ye take. But I just want ye to know that I love ye. I always have, and I always will. My love for ye was the only thing that saw me through six years in prison. Without that, I would have perished in the darkness. I want to change, and to be a better man, for ye and for Fynn.”

“Mathe,” she began, but he raised his hand weakly.

“I thought helping Blaine was the right thing, but I was wrong, and it’s taught me I cannae do this alone. I swear to ye I only wanted to help, and yet I made everything worse. All this time, I told myself that I was strong, and that ye needed that strength, when in fact it was the other way around. I need ye, Lilidh, and I need our son.”

And at his words, Lilidh suddenly knew. It was as if the shutters had been thrown open in her mind, and it was flooded with the light of realisation. They needed each other; all three of them. They were all broken, worn down by the pain of the past, each of them victims in their own way, and capable of both forgiveness and damnation. In knowing this, Lilidh felt such a weight off her shoulders that she sighed in relief. Was it as easy as that? Or was the power of forgiveness in the decision itself, rather than the outcome? She didn’t know, but couldn’t deny that she was becoming overwhelmed with something she rarely felt.

Happiness.

“I forgive ye,” she whispered, snuggling back into her husband once more. “I forgive ye, and I love ye, Mathe MacBrennan.”