His Secret Highland Bride

Chapter Nine

Shane woke to a dog snuffling around his face. He batted Tre away and rolled over on his side. No doubt she wanted to be let out to do her business. He realized he needed to do the same. Rubbing sleep from his eyes, he got to his feet, pulled his boots on, and grabbed up his plaid before heading for the door.

As he passed the bed, he saw Lindsay sleeping, her dark hair spread across the pillow like a banner flying in the breeze. How many times had he woken and seen Maria’s hair in the same way and thought the same thing?

Shaking his head and the thought away, he trudged for the door. As soon as it was opened wide enough, Tre burst through and dashed down the path. Shane went the opposite direction toward the river. After relieving himself, he tugged off his shirt and shucked his boots to wash. The water was frigid, as only snow melt can be. He’d grown soft while in the warmer climes of France and Spain.

Only as he stepped out and was shaking the water from his hair did he remember the fragment of a conversation last night between him and Lindsay. She’d asked him about Maria. And he’d told her. His body went even colder, and not because of the water. What if she asked him other things? Things he couldn’t speak of? Things that would break him completely?

He wasn’t ready.

Instead of going back to their cottage, he belted on his plaid and went the opposite direction. He was a coward. He knew it as he knew his own name. But he couldn’t face Lindsay. She didn’t know how broken he was.

His feet stopped moving when he thought of Maria and the last day he’d left her. A skirmish had broken out on the edge of camp with some French soldiers. Shane had left Maria to go stand with his men. Usually, when he went off to battle, he’d put one of the lads in charge of watching over the women, but this time he hadn’t, for it had risen up quickly. He’d thought only of getting to his men. To have Ronan’s back as his brother had looked after Shane’s since they’d first arrived there.

The battle went on until evening, when he’d moved wearily toward the tent he’d shared with his wife. He blinked the rest of the memory away and turned back toward the cottage. He would not leave Lindsay the way he’d left Maria.

While he wasn’t ready to speak to her, he would watch over her as was his duty as her husband. He climbed a nearby tree that offered a view of the clearing where the cottage set and settled in to stand guard. From his perch, he saw clearly when she stepped out of the house and went to the stream to wash. He averted his gaze, wanting to offer her the privacy she deserved while also making sure no one came upon her unawares.

The dog met up with her, and the two of them had a nice chat—Lindsay asking the mutt where Shane was, and Treun barking her answer. Fortunately, Lindsay didn’t understand and went about breaking her fast and tidying up their small home.

When she went inside, he got down long enough to gather some berries to eat, all the while keeping watch over the woman who’d trusted him to keep her safe. He kept his distance until the sun sank over the horizon and the warm light of the lamp dimmed. He waited a few more minutes before deciding it was safe to go inside.

As he settled on the furs, he wondered what he would do the next day and the next. He couldn’t carry on in this way, forever avoiding his wife because he didn’t want to have a conversation. This was not the way lairds behaved.

He’d just decided he would do better the next day when, like the night before, she surprised him with his soft voice.

“There is more than enough room in the bed for the both of us,” she said.

And damn if his body didn’t urge him to take her up on her offer, but he took control and he shook his head, even knowing she couldn’t see him.

“I’m fine here, lass. You’ll heal faster with plenty of rest.” It was true enough, but even more importantly, she’d heal faster without a man tossing and turning in the bed next to her for being so close to her.

And he’d not be tempted from where he lay on the floor.

It would suit them both better to keep their distance. He understood that a marriage was forever. Or was supposed to be. The priest took measures to make that clear in his message and the vows Shane had spoken. But at the time, he was only thinking of what she needed then. She’d be living with him and needed the protection of his name to do so; otherwise, she’d be ruined. And without his name, he’d be unable to stop anyone else from claiming her and forcing her to leave.

But for the rest of his life, he’d be tied to this woman. And he’d surely not want to spend all his days living like a monk.

He just needed more time.

…

In the morning, Lindsay stayed quiet as Shane gathered his things to leave the cottage. But she stopped him before he could run away for another day.

“Will you come back?” she asked, her voice rough with sleep.

“Aye,” he answered with a nod as well. “I’m going to wash and check my snares, but I’ll return.”

She nodded. It was a new day. She’d spent the day before allowing her mind to run wild. She thought of all the ways she might not measure up to Shane’s first wife. But, eventually, she realized it was all for naught. She couldn’t change anything. Nor would she, if she had known before they wed.

When she’d been hurt, Shane had helped her, even married her to make sure she was safe and cared for. Shane was hurt as well. While his injuries weren’t easily seen, they were there. Deep wounds that might never heal. But Lindsay would stay and help him and make sure he was safe. If that meant listening when he wished to speak and not asking questions when he didn’t, that was what she would do.

When he returned with a rabbit to break their fast, she took it from him with a soft smile and went about cooking it for them. She talked about other things. Easy things. And soon she felt him settle and calm.

Over the next few weeks, she and Shane settled into a peaceful existence. The bruises on her arms turned from purple to yellow and then faded into nothing as she healed. She moved around as she always had without wincing or gasping.

Every morning, Shane went to check his traps as she gathered water and started their morning meal. She’d found a few bushes that supplied enough berries for tarts, and she laughed when he ate them down quickly from years of fighting his siblings for the sweets.

They spent their days working side by side, making the small cottage a more comfortable home. Some days, Shane would go to the village to meet with Doran for his training. And in the evening, they’d sit by the fire and read from the few books they owned or share stories with each other.

They never spoke of Maria except for the nights when Shane woke her while calling out her name in pain. Lindsay waited for him to explain, but he never did. She couldn’t have asked for anything more. At least until night came and it was time for bed. Then a strange awkwardness fell between them. Uncomfortable silence slithered in as she went behind the screen he’d fashioned for her to change.

From there, she’d slip into the bed while he doused the candles. In the darkness, she could hear him unbuckle his belt and was taunted by the soft sound of his plaid hitting the floor. She listened for the hiss of linen as he pulled his shirt off but didn’t hear it. She imagined he slept in his shirt and wondered if that was how he preferred to sleep.

Nothing about their nightly arrangement was how she preferred. She hated to think of Shane sleeping on the hard floor after everything he’d done for her. He’d given her his name, his protection, and now his bed.

And perhaps that wasn’t the only reason she wanted him to sleep next to her. Her new husband was pleasing to look at, and she was curious about what it would be like to kiss him—and do more. She’d gathered all her courage to mention the room in the bed that night, insinuating she’d like him to join her.

But in the silence that practically smothered her after his rejection, her heart had pounded so loud she wondered if he could hear it from across the room where he lay. She’d assumed he was waiting for her to heal. But in the last few days, she’d mentioned many times how wonderful she felt to be back to her old self. And yet, each night she slept alone on the bed that should have been theirs.

It could only mean he had stayed away not because of her injuries but because he didn’t want her. She imagined he must still have a loyalty to his first wife and how lying with Lindsay must seem like a betrayal of his vows with Maria. But she couldn’t be sure that was how he felt.

Tonight, Lindsay was ready to try again. And she started her plan at dinner by pouring them each a second glass of wine with their meal. She was careful to stand close as she poured and gathered the dishes. She’d seen the way the maids in the Wallace hall had flirted with her father’s retainers. She did her best to mimic their ways of flirtation, even going so far as to drop something to the floor so she could bend over to pick it up, giving him a clear look at her breasts.

When they took their seats by the fire, he picked up the book to start up the story he’d been reading, but instead she asked him a question. “Have you lain with anyone since your wife?”

He nearly choked, such was his surprise, and she cursed herself for her impatience. She’d promised herself she would not speak of his first wife and would hold on the conversation until he spoke instead, but she had grown curious. She waited until he collected himself.

“Nay.”

“Did you lie with many women before her?”

He cleared his throat and took a large sip of his wine before answering. “I wouldn’t say many.”

“How many would you say?”

“More than a few, but not many.”

“I’ll not be angry to know the answer.”

“If ye don’t plan to be angry, why do you ask?”

“I just wonder of your experience with woman is all.”

His brows pulled together. “Do you question my abilities?”

She almost laughed at his disgruntled response, but she held it in. She shrugged. “Nay, I have nothing to go on. ’Tis why I asked the question.”

“Six,” he said shortly and opened the book again. This time he went so far as to clear his throat and start reading the next passage, but she interrupted.

“Were you in love with any of them before Maria?”

“Why are you asking such things? I don’t wish to speak of it. It is irrelevant now.”

With another shrug, she answered. “It is relevant to me, your wife. We’ve asked each other all manner of things as we’ve been getting to know each other. This is just another thing I wish to know about you. If it is too private, you’ve only to say so, and I’ll let it lie for now. But I do wonder if…she is the reason you don’t want me.”

He let out a breath and snapped the book closed, setting it on the stand next to his chair. He leaned over, and for a moment she thought he might simply get up and leave, but after another minute or two he sat back and looked at her.

“I imagine it is a natural thing to wonder about. Yes, I loved my wife. Yes, I miss her. Yes, I feel as if being with you in that way would be a betrayal of Maria, which is why I’ve avoided you. And, yes, I know it might seem silly for me to still feel such things for a woman who is not here when a very beautiful and alive woman is within reach, but I can’t help it.” He ran a hand over his chin. The stubble there rasped against his palm, and once again she wondered what it would feel like against her sensitive skin. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready to move on. Some days it feels impossible, and some days it feels within my grasp. I would hope knowing it’s nothing you’ve done that has kept me from you would help, but it doesn’t matter, does it? I’m hurting you, I can see it, but I can’t make myself…”

“I wouldn’t want you to do something you don’t want to do.”

“I do want it, Lindsay. I just can’t allow it. It feels wrong. You, me, this—it wasn’t supposed to happen. I am happy to offer what I can, but that part, I simply cannot.” He stood to pace around before shaking his head.

She could see how deeply tortured he was over this and didn’t want to push him further. Reaching out, she took his hand in hers and smiled up at him. “This is not something we need to decide tonight. We have time to become comfortable with each other. For you to become comfortable with being with me.” She bit her lip a moment before going on. “I want you to know you can speak about her with me.”

“I don’t wish to speak of her.” He ran his hand over his face. “Now, perhaps we should ready for bed. I plan to work with Doran in the morning.”

“Very well,” she said, not yet ready to give up but knowing she couldn’t force him to open up to her. She hummed a tune as she changed for bed. But instead of going straight from the protection of the screen to the bed, she went to the fire to check on the clothing she’d hung there to dry earlier.

She knew her shift was thin and felt her nipples draw tight when she turned away from the warmth to the cooler room. A glance in his direction proved he’d noticed as well, as he stared at her chest. Feeling encouraged by his reaction, she leaned over again to blow out the candle next to the bed. This time she knew he could see everything, for she had no stays on.

He gasped as she crawled across the bed to blow out the other candle, leaving them in darkness that felt almost heaving with the tension running between them. She was smiling as she listened to him drop his belt and plaid, just as he had every night they’d spent together. But tonight, when he settled on the furs, he let out a most unsettled sigh.

“Good night,” he said, putting an end to her efforts for the evening. But she was not defeated. They would have years to work things out between them.

Her smile faded as a thread of doubt began to tug loose.

If her father forced her to abandon Shane and marry the laird as promised, they may not have so much time after all.

…

Shane lay still on the floor, despite his urge to move around. He knew well that moving wouldn’t settle the unrest, so there was no use of it. It was becoming clear as every day went by that his new wife would not be satisfied with a marriage in name only. She wanted more from him.

He wasn’t certain he had more to give, but in the last few days since she’d spoken up about Maria, Shane had begun to feel things when he’d not been able to feel anything but guilt and grief the last year.

It was at this time when he searched for sleep to claim him that his thoughts collided. He had loved Maria. Her free spirit, the way she wasn’t afraid to say what she was thinking and call him out to tangle with him. He’d not once seen her back down. He wondered now: if she had run and hid when the French attacked the camp, would she have been spared? He imagined her shouting at the leering soldiers when she should have looked for an escape.

Lindsay had a spirit as well, but it was more reserved, and he thought that would do her well in a violent situation. Not that he’d ever abandon her to face such a thing alone. He’d learned that lesson too well. The quiet continued, but he knew Lindsay wasn’t asleep. He could almost hear her waiting for him to reveal some small piece of himself, as he had the past two nights. He’d told her small things about his previous life. He’d even smiled last night at the memories he’d shared.

She’d been right. It did help him to talk about Maria. He found himself eager to tell Lindsay something more significant in the hopes of lifting more of the weight he carried.

“It was my fault she died,” he heard a voice saying before he’d given himself permission to speak.

“People often carry guilt for things they feel responsible for, even when there was nothing else that could be done.”

He nodded, though it was too dark and too far for her to have seen him. He understood, but that wasn’t the case now. He decided to tell her everything and let her judge him.

“A smaller battle broke out at the far edge of camp. It didn’t take long for word to spread that the French had come looking for trouble. Ronan had gone to get water, and I knew he would have been close by when the battle broke out. My only thought was to get to my brother and have his back as he had mine the day before. It had grown impossible to remember who had saved whose life the most, but Ronan had saved mine most recently, and I could only think of the debt that needed to be repaid.”

“Debt or no, your brother was in danger. That is reason enough to have gone.”

He thought about that for a moment and realized she was right.

“Normally, when I went off to battle I paid one of the lads to watch over Maria. To help her carry things and see she was safe. But this came up quickly, so I grabbed up my weapons and ran. I can’t recall if I even kissed her in my haste.”

He felt a hot tear roll across his temple to be lost in his hair and cleared the pain from his throat.

“It was a ruse. A distraction to pull our attention away so they could raid the camp for food, weapons, and horses. Maria was fierce and wouldn’t have given up our meager goods so easily. She paid dearly for it. I shouldn’t have left her unprotected. I chose my brother and my men over my wife.”

A soft sniff came from the bed, and he realized his wife was crying. He didn’t think; he only knew he needed to go to her.

He climbed into bed next to her and pulled her against him. “Shh. I’m sorry. I upset ye,” he said while rubbing her back.

He felt her shake her head. “I’m to be comforting you.”

He laughed, a real laugh that sounded strange after he’d been so close to those awful memories just moments ago.

“You’re doing a fine job of it, lass.” It may have sounded like a jest, but it was true. He felt needed and useful as he held Lindsay. And for the first time since Maria died, he felt not so very alone.

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and felt his heart trip as he breathed in the floral scent of her hair. It seemed the broken thing was not gone after all.