His Secret Highland Bride

Chapter Eight

Lindsay leaned back against her husband as he reined the horse toward home, but she was anything but relaxed. She was married, and that meant a wedding night. She understood some parts about what happened between men and women but had expected her mother to tell her the details before her wedding.

Now she didn’t know what she was supposed to know before such an event. Would Shane be disappointed if she didn’t go about it the correct way? Lindsay was known to babble when she was nervous, and she didn’t think she’d ever been more nervous than she was right then. In an effort to keep quiet, she began shifting about in the saddle where she sat in front of Shane.

“Stop your squirming about, woman,” he said, sounding as if he were in a great deal of pain. She stilled immediately after feeling something stiff prodding her in her backside.

Unable to move around, she had no other choice but to speak. “Thank you,” she said quietly.

“You’re welcome.”

“Do you even know why I’m thanking you?” she asked after a moment.

She felt rather than saw him shrug. “For taking our riding at a slow pace so your head doesn’t become dislodged from your body?”

She laughed even when he didn’t.

“I was thanking you for caring for me. I was beginning to think no one did. Which sounds rather petulant, but I wrote to my parents to beg them to come for me, and they have not returned for me. Or sent word.”

“Are you known to spin tall tales?”

“Am I the boy who cries wolf, where the wolf is my uncle?” She shook her head. “No. Never.”

“I didn’t think so. As it were, your uncle turned out to be a wolf, indeed.”

“I’m also thanking you for what you did for the boys. Freeing them from that man will be the best thing for them, even if they might not realize it yet.” When he’d told her what he’d done, she’d felt a rush of relief that they’d be cared for. Shane said he trusted this Munro, so she did as well. It wasn’t as if he could be any worse than their own father.

“It was the right thing to do,” he said easily, as if everyone chose to do the right thing. Her experience in the short time she’d been with the MacPhersons was that not many she’d met cared about right or wrong.

“I want you to know I will care for you, too. I’ll make sure you don’t regret having married me,” she said quietly.

“I won’t regret it.”

She couldn’t believe her good luck. To have found a kind man to marry, rather than an ogre of a laird. When her father found out, he’d have no choice but to support the match, for he would not have found a better man to marry her.

Shane didn’t expect her to do all the chores. He hadn’t married her to have a servant, as her uncle had treated her. He had married her to protect her, which wasn’t the best reason, but it wasn’t for the exchange of cattle or land, so she was pleased enough.

“How can you be sure you won’t regret it?” she asked after warning herself to be quiet. Some questions one didn’t really want answers to. “You hardly know me. This marriage could turn out to be the biggest mistake you’ve ever made.”

He made a sound. Not one that made her think he didn’t agree with the possibility of their marriage being a mistake. Her worry intensified as they rode on, but she managed to stay still and quiet, if for no other reason than that she was terrified of what came next.

…

Shane was glad when Lindsay stopped talking and more importantly stopped wiggling around while her arse was settled on his cock. He didn’t think he’d make it back to the cottage otherwise.

He needed time to think, and he couldn’t do that when her enticing body was shifting against his. Or when she was talking about regrets. The truth was, he already had regrets, but it was too late now. They were wed. He’d do his duty to provide and protect her, but that would be all. Hopefully, she wouldn’t expect more.

He didn’t think she needed much. After all, she had no family there except for a couple of rowdy lads who’d not cared for her as they should have. As for the rest of her family, he would have a few words to say to them as well, if ever he met them. He didn’t expect much from Camerons, but he didn’t care for the way they sent their daughter off into the lion’s den unprotected.

His censure would have greater impact if they knew he was the laird of the MacPhersons. He should tell her. He hadn’t lied, exactly. He’d been careful to word things in a way so he wouldn’t have to. After all, he wasn’t the laird until he went to the castle and claimed the title for himself. But despite his success at twisting his words in such a way, he was traveling a thin line of what was not a lie and what a person should have shared with a woman before claiming her as his wife, no matter the reason he married her.

Guilt tugged in his stomach, as had been happening since he’d offered his hasty proposal. Yet he didn’t speak until it faded away again. For as much as he wished he could tell her the truth, he needed this time with her, like this, quiet and calm, even more. She healed some of the broken bits of his heart.

Unfortunately, there was naught to be done about the chunks that were missing.

In the distance, a hawk screeched, and she turned to look for it. Even that quick movement had her luscious arse shifting in his lap, stirring him to arousal once more. He growled, and she muttered an apology. He didn’t blame her for his body’s reaction. It wasn’t her fault. But he couldn’t think of being with her physically when his betrayal was so firmly on his mind. He had not imagined he take on the life of a monk the rest of his days. He was a young man with many years of empty nights ahead of him.

He’d assumed he’d go about it the way he’d done before marrying Maria. During the years he was at war, before he’d met her, he’d seldom taken a woman to his bed, mostly because he didn’t have a bed. Instead, he and Ronan generally found a place for their bedrolls away from the other men. They would talk of home and speculate as to what their siblings were doing.

Early on, they always assumed their sister and brother were doing mundane chores he and Ronan had been spared from having to do because they were men while Alec and Tory were children. As men, they were eager to fight a path through France and claim the glory.

Unfortunately, their eagerness dimmed before the first year. Soon, they were looking at the stars above and wishing they were back home in Scotland. They would talk of things such as Lizzy’s meat pies and berry tarts. The cook at Cluny had chased them from her kitchens more times than they could count, but remembering her meals made them think of home.

And then there was the issue of the women who followed the drum being well worn, often carrying with them diseases he and Ronan wanted no part of. While Shane had tempted fate a few times over the years, his brother—to Shane’s knowledge—never had. When Shane had asked him about it, he’d only said he couldn’t.

Shane wasn’t sure what he’d meant by it and didn’t ask further. Ronan never had a problem sharing something when he wanted to. Shane had met the woman who’d changed everything for him. She’d not been like the other women, who used sex as currency. She’d been carrying water in her village when he and his men had come through. He’d stopped to help her, and when he’d looked into her eyes, he’d simply known she would be his.

When he left the next day, she went with him, and a few weeks later they had married. The next year had been both the hardest and the best, for he’d spent the days fighting and the nights in her arms, loving her.

Now, with Shane’s new wife nestled against him, his body had come alive, and the absence of company of the feminine nature was taking its toll. Lindsay was beautiful. It was a natural reaction, if one he had no plan to act on for some time.

“Shane?” she said, bringing his attention back from the discomfort of his cock. “Will you tell me about your family?”

He’d avoided questions about his family, but he would tell her the truth as much as possible. “My ma died when I was a lad. My da died recently, while I was away.”

“That’s too bad. You didn’t get to say goodbye.”

“Nay.” He would have had some other words for his father in addition to “goodbye.” Mayhap something like, “Do not think to marry me off to some lass just so you can buy useless baubles for your wife while your warriors’ swords look like they would bend in a brisk wind.” He kept that to himself. Instead, he said, “I told you of my stepbrother.”

“Aye, but he’s not with you now.”

“He’s a Grant by name. His grandmother was a MacPherson, though, and he came to live with us when he was only ten. For that, he thinks himself as much MacPherson as Grant.”

He expected his new wife to make her disgust known. The Camerons and MacPhersons were enemies, but not like the Camerons and Grants were. They’d sooner kill one another than have to look at each other. But she said nothing.

“And then there is my younger brother and sister.” He didn’t mention his stepmother because he’d rather pretend she didn’t exist.

“Have you seen them since you’ve returned?”

“Not yet. They were not pleased with me when I left. Especially my younger brother. He was left behind, just a gangly lad of five and ten. And then my sister was certain I’d get myself killed.”

He went on to tell her of the things they’d gotten up to when they were young, until he felt Lindsay’s weight against him. She’d dozed off. He held her loosely so as not to hurt her, but to support her as the horse continued on.

It was late when they arrived back at the cottage.

She woke when the horse stopped. Her head snapped up, and she groaned from the quick movement. “We’re home already,” she said.

“Aye.” Home. He’d wanted to be home for several years, yet he hadn’t realized once he’d arrived, he wouldn’t be ready to take those final steps. For now, this cottage was his home and this woman was his wife.

He didn’t know what would come, but for now he was content. He assisted her into the house, and they stood there. Nothing had changed within these walls since they’d left. The bedding was straightened from where she’d been asleep these past few days. And yet, everything was different.

They were married. Married couples shared a bed. They shared a lot more than that. But they had married for a reason that didn’t include such liberties.

“You will, of course, take the bed, and I’ll remain on the floor,” he said stiffly.

“I don’t mean for you to be uncomfortable.”

“It’s actually better. After years of sleeping on the ground, the soft bed is strange.” It was a strangeness he was becoming accustomed to, but he wanted to reassure her that he was fine with the floor. The floor was safe. He wouldn’t be tempted to touch Lindsay while he dreamed of Maria.

Lindsay nodded. She was exhausted. “I’m sure you’re in pain from our ride,” he said. “I’ll brew you some willow bark tea and settle you in bed for the night. You still need your rest. Bess will be after me if I don’t make sure you get plenty of sleep.”

He went about starting a fire in the hearth and pushing the kettle over the flame as he sorted out the herbs his aunt had left for her. He sweetened the bitter concoction with a bit of honey and took it to where she was sitting on the edge of the bed. She still frowned at the taste. “I know it tastes awful, but it does help.”

She nodded and gulped it down as if wanting the task over with as quickly as possible. He pulled off her shoes and helped her back on the mattress, tucking the blanket around her. She closed her eyes, and he thought she had already fallen asleep as he settled in on his makeshift bed by the wall. He closed his eyes and was hoping sleep would come for him quickly so he’d not spend the rest of the night lying there thinking of her in his bed.

But the stillness of the room was interrupted by her soft voice.

“Shane?”

“Aye?”

“Who is Maria?”

Air hissed past his teeth as he breathed in. Just hearing her name spoken aloud in the darkness caused a flood of memories to sweep him away. No one had spoken her name in months. Ronan knew how much talking about her pained him and did his best to keep their conversations on other things. Perhaps that was not the best way to have handled it. He’d thought it was getting easier, but hearing Lindsay whisper her name tore the wound open again, and he feared he would not be able to stop the bleeding.

Still, Lindsay was waiting for an answer. She’d most likely heard him calling for Maria in his sleep. It was the only time he said it. He thought about snapping at her that it was none of her business. He wanted to tell her to leave it alone and never speak the name again.

Maybe it was all the truths he was already keeping from her that forced him to answer this one.

“She was my wife,” he said, surprised he’d managed to get the words past the lump burning in his throat. When she said nothing, he swallowed and continued. “It was my fault she died. I will never forgive myself.”

When the silence went on, he assumed she’d fallen asleep. Part of him hoped she’d fallen asleep as soon as she’d asked the question. He didn’t know why he’d shared so much. He’d not admitted his guilt to another soul until tonight.

While his insides felt raw and tender for saying the words aloud, he also felt stronger for having said them. When he fell asleep that night, he didn’t dream.

…

Shane had been married before. Lindsay lay in his bed still thinking of his words hours after his breathing had evened out and a soft snore drifted across to where she lay in shock.

He’d been married before, and he’d not mentioned it to her. His new wife.

It was clear from the strain she’d heard in his voice as he spoke the few words about Maria that Shane had loved her very much. And he’d been responsible for her death. Lindsay had not had the courage to ask anything else. She’d instead allowed the stillness of the room to grow until he’d fallen asleep.

She was exhausted from traveling and the excitement of the day, but sleep wouldn’t come now. She was busy thinking a hundred questions she wanted to ask him but feared she wouldn’t.

What had happened to Maria? How long were they married? How long ago did she die? Had they married for love? Did he sleep on the floor while she slept in his bed while they were together?

Lindsay thought she knew the answer to that. She hated the jealousy that wound up her spine at the thought of Shane loving this woman. His first wife.

It explained the shadow of pain and regret she sometimes saw haunting his face. He’d lost his wife, and he missed her. Hurt for her loss. Yet he’d married Lindsay to protect her. How much pain had she caused him today?

Tears gathered in her own eyes when she realized she’d married Shane hoping they might find more than an arrangement between them. She’d hoped, in time, they’d grow to love each other. But now she realized that could never be. For her husband was still in love with his Maria.