His Secret Highland Bride

Chapter Ten

Lindsay brushed the tears away, feeling like a goose. She’d wanted to help her husband through his pain, but here he was, helping her. She couldn’t even find something to say to ease his guilt, for telling him it wasn’t his fault was insignificant and useless.

Somewhere in his heart, he knew the truth—that he’d made a mistake. He’d never have left Maria if he’d known it could have been a trap. But he had convinced himself he was at fault, and she would not change his mind until he was ready to believe it.

The best she could think to do was hold him a bit tighter and hope he understood.

As was common after he’d shared such an intimate part of himself, he faded quickly and drifted into a peaceful sleep. She imagined it would be exhausting carrying around such anger for himself with nowhere to put it.

Except he had found a way to punish himself. He’d rejected her and what happiness they might have by keeping his distance. She’d thought to be patient, to wait for him to eventually drop his guard so she might have the chance to win his heart.

But now she realized the error of this tactic. For he may not ever forgive himself enough to love anyone. Talking with her at night seemed to help him, but a person could not be as open with a stranger as a loved one.

She woke earlier than him the next morning and slipped from the bed to gather her cloak and boots. With Treun by her side, she took the path to the river and gathered the things she needed before going to the rock she had claimed as a special place for thinking. Crushing the berries with a stone, she used the juice to carefully paint the words on the pale stone.

“What do ye think?” she asked the dog, who offered no opinion beyond a cocked ear. But Lindsay realized Tre was responding not to her question but rather the panicked sound of a man yelling her name.

…

Shane had woken alone in his bed, and for a moment he had forgotten someone else was supposed to be lying next to him. As soon as he realized Lindsay wasn’t there, he sat up and saw she was not in the cottage at all.

His worry began to grow as he stepped out on the porch and looked about their small yard.

“Lindsay?” he shouted and headed for the river, thinking she might have gone to wash and gather water for their morning meal. But when she wasn’t at the river, fear took hold.

He recalled the day they’d met, the scrawny lads who’d meant to do her harm. As he rushed through the woods, with branches whipping at his face, he was reminded of what he’d found when he’d returned to camp that day. Maria’s body, the blood covering her gown, a smudge of it at her face.

“Lindsay!” he screamed again as he stopped and spun around, listening for her quiet voice and hearing nothing but the pounding of his heart. He’d thought the thing was dead, but it was surely alive once again.

Finally, he heard it. Barking. Treun would be with her.

“I’m here,” Lindsay called as he got closer to the rock where she liked to spend time thinking.

Upon seeing her, hale and hearty, his temper took hold. “What caused ye to go off on your own like that? You know well enough what can happen when you wander off alone. Are ye daft, woman?”

“I thought to do something for you, and once I decided, I couldn’t wait. I wanted to…help,” Lindsay said while using the back of her berry-stained hands to wipe away the tears.

He followed her gaze to the rock where he often found her sitting and saw there were words written.

Maria MacPherson. Beloved wife and friend.

Dear God.

“You said you had to bury her in France with no stone. I thought she should have a proper place so you might come to talk to her. This is the most peaceful place I’ve found.”

She’d given up her own favorite spot for him to mourn his lost love? He turned to ask why she would do such a thing, but she had scooped up Treun and was walking away, leaving him there to grieve.

He took a step closer and then another until he could reach out with a shaky hand to touch the letters Lindsay had carefully applied to the rock. He closed his eyes and imagined Maria standing behind him, waiting.

He took in a deep breath and began speaking.

…

Over the next week, Shane spent many mornings away at the rock Lindsay had painted for him. She was glad he was finding good use of it, and she thought it was helping, though she did often find herself wondering what he said to his wife.

She hated that she suffered even the smallest jealousy of the woman Shane had loved—still loved—but she couldn’t deny it.

She shook the thought away as she stepped out on the front porch and stared out at the rainy morning. Shane had already gathered water, so she went about breaking her fast. She heard a twig snap and smiled.

“Ye may come have a bite to eat,” she called to Doran, who had been set to guarding her while her husband was away. Doran stepped forward with a frown on his face.

“I thought I’d been quiet.”

“You were, but Tre gave ye away,” she said to ease the young warrior.

“It sure is boring having to watch ye when you don’t do anything of note and there’s no danger.”

“I’m pleased to be boring,” she said while handing over a bannock for her cousin.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly while staring at his bread in his hands.

“I don’t take offense,” she said, but he shook his head.

“Nay, not for calling you boring—for the way I treated you before. When you lived with us.”

“I imagine you were only doing what you’d seen your da do with your mother.” Bless her aunt’s soul for the harsh life she must have lived.

Doran nodded. “My da was a bastard, to be sure, but my ma loved us. I think I was angry at ye for coming to take her place.”

She let out a sigh. It seemed she was doing a lot of that lately. Taking the place of someone who was deeply loved. She wondered if she might ever have her own place.

Later that day, when Shane returned, she noticed a change in him. He was smiling, and his eyes were not so haunted as she’d come to know them.

“Are you well?” she asked.

He smiled wider and nodded. “Aye. I’m better than I have been in some time. The rain washes things clean.”

“That’s good.” She pointed to the pot on the fire. “I’ve already collected the rabbits and started a stew for our dinner.”

“I didn’t wed ye to make you my servant,” he said as water dripped off the ends of his hair.

“I know. You married me to protect me. I am fully aware of that. But I might as well be of some use. I know you do not want me. I am not a suitable replacement for what you once had. I am not like her. I am… I’m nothing but rabbit stew.”

His eyes went wide as he dropped his hand to his side.

“You are…rabbit stew?” Of course he was confused—she was making no sense. But she couldn’t stop herself.

“I am boring. Something you are grateful for because it is all you have at hand, but not something you truly desire. Not something with flavor and…spices.”

His brows smashed together for a moment, and then, as she watched, he seemed to understand.

“Ye don’t seem to know how much I enjoy rabbit stew. Coming home, the scent of it relaxes me. Makes me happy to be home, where I’m safe and comforted. And I would gladly have it every day and never tire of it.” He rubbed his chin. “I’m running out of things to say about stew, so might I just tell ye what I like about you?”

She hung her head, embarrassed for leading them into this ridiculous conversation.

“I like that you are here when I wake up in the morning and come home in the evening. Seeing you gives me peace. Talking with you gives me comfort. You are warmth.”

“Warmth when you once had heat.”

“It was wrong of me to tell you about Maria.”

She didn’t think it was possible for her to feel worse, but she did. She shook her head. “Nay. It was not wrong of you to tell me about her.”

“You’re upset and making comparisons when the two of you couldn’t be any more different.”

She did not feel the bite to his words she’d felt when he’d said as much earlier. She was not Maria and never planned to be. She was herself and was generally pleased with that. She knew Shane had loved his wife, while Lindsay was no more than an obligation. She didn’t begrudge him his feelings for Maria. She looked him in the eye and did her best to explain.

“I don’t wish her to be less to you. I just wish I was…more.”

…

Shane felt her words in the center of his chest as if he’d just taken a hit with a club. She wanted to be more to him, when she was quickly becoming everything. So much so, it frightened him.

Earlier in the day, when he’d been sitting in the rain in front of Maria’s stone, he’d told her about Lindsay and how she’d helped him start to heal. How Lindsay had given him a sacred place and encouraged him to remember Maria. And sitting there drenched and a bit chilly, he realized he was smiling as he spoke of Lindsay.

Lindsay.

Every response and reaction seemed the exact opposite of what he would have expected from Maria. To the point he wasn’t sure how he could have loved Maria as fiercely as he’d thought when he enjoyed Lindsay’s steady patience so much.

He thought he had a preference, but he’d come to realize while talking to a stone in the middle of the forest that he could enjoy both extremes equally. Perhaps he’d needed different things at certain times in his life. When he was young and reckless, he’d embraced Maria’s spirit. And now that he was more mature yet unsure of his place, he needed the calm confidence of Lindsay.

He could love Maria and still care for Lindsay. But Lindsay just told him in her own way that caring for her was not enough. She wanted more. He didn’t know if he was capable of such a thing, but he was certain it couldn’t happen if he continued to keep this distance between them. He’d thought to punish himself by not allowing himself to be happy with another woman, but it was Lindsay who was hurting. He owed it to her to do better, to try.

And that night, he decided to do just that. As was becoming common, his wife changed behind the screen and walked out wearing only her thin shift that did nothing to hide the slight curves of her body from the light. Rather than glance away, he watched her.

She was tempting him. What he didn’t know was if she was doing it on purpose or was just naturally alluring. Or perhaps it was knowing he didn’t plan to deny himself anymore. Once she was settled in bed, he got in next to her but didn’t turn down the lamp to go to sleep. Instead, he looked at her, studying every detail of her face. He’d been near her every day over the last weeks, but now he was actually seeing her.

“What caused that scar there under your left eye?” he asked randomly, wanting to get to know her better.

“Is it unsightly?” she asked, brushing a fingertip over the perfect imperfection.

“Nay. Not at all. I only wonder how you came by it.”

“My cousin Meaghan and I were chasing each other in the woods, and I fell. A stick got me on the way down. It could have been much worse.”

“Aye.” He nodded and realized that their conversation had come to an abrupt end. Perhaps he could ask her about the type of stick it was? Or about her cousin. Why was it so difficult to try to navigate this space between them?

“Is Meaghan older or younger than ye?”

“She’s a few months younger. My father’s brother’s daughter.”

Another Cameron. He managed not to frown this time.

“She’s recently married.”

He nodded and realized once again they’d run out of things to discuss.

“What about your scars?” she asked, seeming as desperate as he to keep their conversation going.

He laughed. “There are too many to count, let alone remember how I received them all.”

“Then tell me of the ones you can recall.”

He nodded and went on telling her tales of his awkward youth that caused a number of marks upon his skin as he grew into his larger frame. About the line across his chin where he’d been thrown from a horse. When he nearly forgot himself and pulled up his shirt—the only clothing he wore—he realized this path was fraught with problems.

They fell into silence once more. Eventually, while he was grasping for things to talk about, her breathing slowed in sleep and he released a sigh and outened the light.

He’d made a fine start tonight, but there was still much work to be done.

Like many nights, his pleasant dreams turned to the war, finding Maria, and eventually to that night in his room when he woke choking on smoke, unable to breathe. The feeling of being trapped gripped his throat, cutting off whatever air was left until he woke up gasping for breath, Lindsay’s hand on his shoulder.

“You’re having a bad dream,” she said.

He coughed a few times as if clearing the imaginary smoke from his lungs. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” It was nothing they hadn’t already discussed, so he shook his head.

“Nay. Go back to sleep.”

“Very well.” But instead of pulling away, she came closer. “Sleep well,” she whispered.

She leaned in to kiss him on the cheek, and in a moment of weakness he turned his head so her kiss found its home against his lips rather than his face. The shock of it caught them both off guard, but rather than pull away as he felt he should, he leaned closer and took her lips once more.

A niggling voice in the back of his mind scolded him for taking such pleasure from a woman who was not Maria, but he pushed back, knowing the truth. Lindsay was his wife. He wasn’t doing anything he shouldn’t.

He questioned whether or not it was fair for him to be allowed to move on with someone else, but he only pulled Lindsay closer to fend off his worries. When that wasn’t enough, his hands found their way to her hips and held her tighter to him. She willingly went where he guided her as his tongue slipped into her mouth. She let out a small gasp of surprise before doing the same and meeting his touch with her own.

It wasn’t until her thigh touched his cock that he realized how close he was to losing control. “Lindsay,” he said with a voice he barely recognized.

“Yes,” she answered, though he didn’t think she was answering to her name so much as a question he hadn’t asked aloud. She was caught up in the same desire he was. He wanted to keep going, to take what she offered, to lose himself in her body. But his guilt reared up, stealing his breath.

He pushed her away as he gasped for air much like he had in his dream. He couldn’t breathe. He grabbed up his kilt and boots and rushed for the door, leaving her in their bed. Outside, he looked up at the starry sky and cursed. He felt he was being ripped in two, wanting to honor the wife he’d lost and respect the wife he had.

What he was doing may not have been wrong, but it didn’t feel entirely right, either.