Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Yer Grace,” Elspeth said finally, her voice hoarse.
She had heard his footsteps as they echoed down the hall before he barged into the drawing room. She’d prepared herself for his rebuke. She’d kept her focus out the window, looking up at the stars for guidance.
She quickly wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, trying to compose herself, to appear as if nothing was amiss.
It was of no use; he had already undone her.
She turned quickly to move past him and leave the room for the safety of her quarters. “If ye’ll excuse me, I am quite tired. I cannae talk about what happened tonight. I havenae the strength.”
But Hugo was already there, standing squarely in her path as though he had guessed her every thought. Her gaze met his, and she knew he could see the tear tracks on her cheeks. The raw vulnerability in her green eyes betrayed her completely—there was nowhere left to hide.
“What is the matter, Elspeth?” he asked, his voice surprisingly gentle, the anger in his footsteps completely gone. “While I may have an idea, I want you to tell me in your own words. What happened?”
“Nothin’,” she whispered, trying to push past him. “I merely wished to be alone.”
He did not budge.
“Do not lie to me, Elspeth. I know something is wrong.” He reached out, his thumb brushing away a lingering tear.
Elspeth felt the brief, insistent touch, and something inside her gave way. She pressed her lips together, then parted them as if to hold it all in, but it was too much.
The dam shattered. All the frustration, the weariness, the homesickness, the confusion, the sting of Lady Markham’s cruelty—every pent-up emotion spilled forth, unstoppable.
“They are fools for failing to see you for who you truly are. There is nothing amiss in your circumstances. Everything will—”
“Ye are what is wrong!” she cried suddenly, her voice rising, raw with emotion as she looked into his eyes. “This is all yer fault! Ye came into me life and snatched it all away! Me peace, me quiet, me home!”
“I merely acquired a property. One I did not ask for, nor want the responsibility of.”
“It is yer fault! It is yer fault that I am so far away from everythin’ I ken, forced to endure these… these vultures that prey on anyone they deem less-than!” Her voice cracked.
“You may have a point, but I need you to—”
“And ye! One moment ye are cold and authoritative as a tyrant, orderin’ me every move, pushin’ me toward men I despise!
Then ye are… ye are kissing me and pushin’ suitors away!
Ye are confusin’ me beyond measure! Ye have no care for me feelings!
None at all! I am nae a puppet to play with. I am nae yer toy.”
She stood there, panting, tears streaming down her face, her chest heaving in the restrictive gown she wished she could burn.
Hugo fell quiet, his face unreadable. Yet, his gaze remained fixed on her.
The silence lingered, thick with the weight of her accusations, as neither of them spoke.
What have I said? This wasnae smart. I am too overwhelmed to think clearly, let alone with this impossibly large brute in front of me.
Ashamed of her outburst, she pushed past him with all her strength, desperate to escape. But as she moved, his hand shot out, grabbing her arm and pulling her back against his solid chest. He wrapped his arms around her and nuzzled her hair, rubbing his chin against the crown of her head.
“You think I don’t care?” he murmured, his voice rough, his breath warm against her hair.
“You think I’ve not been fighting this since the first moment I saw you, covered in mud in the middle of Inverhall’s gardens like some woodland nymph?
Elspeth, I desire you more than I have desired any woman in my life. ”
His grip tightened on her, almost painfully. Most curious of all, Elspeth liked it.
“Then why do ye fight it?”
“Because I cannot be with you.”
She stilled, her heart hammering against her ribs.
“Why?” she whispered, the single word a desperate plea. “Why cannae ye be with me?”
He hesitated, his body rigid, then took a deep, shuddering breath. “It is complicated.”
“Does it have to do with the whispers about me? Me Highland ways?”
“Don’t even think that,” he growled, pulling her closer, almost as a punishment. “I am very fond of your ways.”
“Then what?”
“I cannot be with anyone.”
“Does it have to do with yer faither?” she pressed, remembering the flickers of pain in his eyes when his past was mentioned.
He took a slow, deep breath.
“My father was a difficult man,” he began, his voice low. “He… he ended up betraying me. It ruined our relationship. Forever.”
He stopped, his gaze unfocused, as if seeing something far away in the night sky.
When he looked back at her, she could feel the tension in his shoulders, the tremor in his hands. She could see the storm in his blue eyes. It all spoke of a burden he had carried alone for far too long.
She felt it, too—the fragility of the moment, the raw vulnerability that seemed to wrap around them both.
He stopped, and she saw the hesitation in his gaze. A flicker of fear passed over his face, a man who had never shared this part of himself.
He could not speak it, whatever it was. She understood that much.
Still, he held her. His arms were strong around her, but there was no harshness, only the force of a man clinging to what little comfort he could.
And she did not pull away. She leaned into his warmth, her tears ebbing, her green eyes rising to meet his. She studied him, looking for something she could not name.
“Me husband,” she whispered tentatively. “He was a respected man in the Highlands, at least. Wise and well-read, generous to his people. But our marriage, it was cold as a blizzard. And he drank. Every night.”
Hugo’s breath warmed her ear as he murmured, “I did not know.” He pulled her closer.
She hesitated, then continued, “He would come to me chambers, blackout drunk, without sense. He never… never—”
“What, Elspeth?”
Her voice faltered. “He never touched me, Hugo. Nae once. He never consummated our marriage.”
Hugo drew back, holding her at arm’s length. She saw the shock in his eyes as they roamed over her.
He was seeing her for who she truly was, and she could see that the realization hit him like a thunderbolt.
He now, no doubt, knew she was still a virgin.
A wave of desire and protectiveness flooded his eyes, simmering beneath his shock. His mind seemed to wrestle with itself, trying to gather order from the torrent of emotion.
And then the dam broke for him as well. Words spilled out of him, rough, ragged, laden with years of grief he had never spoken aloud.
“You see,” He took her hand and led her to the couch, pulling her down beside him.
His thumb brushed hers, trembling as it sought reassurance.
“When I was nineteen, I made the mistake of falling in love. Or what I believed to be love. Her name was Mary. A widow, older than I, and more beautiful than any woman I had known. I thought her my salvation. She was passionate, intoxicating. I was blind.”
He ran a hand through his hair and gave a mirthless laugh.
“What I did not know was that she had also given herself to my father. When he discovered us, he was not outraged by her betrayal, nor by mine. Only that I had dared touch what he considered his possession. He forced her to choose between us. And she chose him. Chose the power, the title, the security. Within the year, she became my stepmother.” His voice roughened, the words dragging out of him.
“It ended whatever bond had remained between my father and me. I quit his house and swore never to return. For years, I kept only the company of Aaron and my grandmother. They were all I trusted.”
He drew a long breath, steadying himself, as though preparing for the darker part yet to come.
“Seven years later, word came that my father was dying. I was begged to come. Fool that I am, I did. And no sooner had I set foot in that house than Mary sought me out again. She whispered that we might resume what we had once begun. That when my father was gone, we could be together once more.”
Elspeth’s jaw dropped.
His eyes hardened, voice dropping lower.
“I was horrified. Disgusted by her very presence. I turned from her. But my father heard enough. He walked in, saw her reaching for me. His rage was like fire, even as weak as he had become. He struck her. She fell, struck her head, and never rose again. The shock of it seized his failing heart, and he also died before my eyes.”
Elspeth’s stomach lurched. She could feel the weight of his horror, the way his body still trembled from the memory. His eyes, blue meeting her green, were wet with torment he rarely allowed anyone to see.
“It was an accident. Truly, it was. My father, as cruel as he could be, would never have harmed her deliberately. But there she was, dead. And he…”
Elspeth watched him, her heart aching with a pain that felt too big for her chest. She could not imagine the pain of everything he had been through. Tears streamed down her cheeks.
“Oh, Hugo,” was all she could whisper, the words a gentle caress in the heavy night air.
“I knew the truth could never be told,” Hugo continued.
“No one would believe me innocent. The duchy would be dragged through the mire. So I buried it. I bribed the physician to speak of a fever that took them both. I swore the servants to silence. And I have carried that night in my breast ever since.”
He swallowed hard, the muscles in his jaw working.
“And the duchy… Heavens. When I inherited it, it was in absolute shambles. My father had let everything fall apart—all for her,” he gritted bitterly, “It took me years, Elspeth. Years of working myself to the bone to rebuild. To make sure no one could ever say I was weak or foolish. And I swore to myself that I would never be in a position to lose control again. Never to feel that kind of desperate rage. Never to love anyone enough to let them shatter me.”
“Oh, Hugo,” Elspeth breathed. She took his hand into her own and held it to her cheek.
He finally looked her in the eye. “Now you know what my bloodline breeds. What I am. A cold, controlling tyrant of a man who cannot stand to be vulnerable, or even tolerable on most days.”
She took his other hand and lowered both to her lap. They were strong, calloused hands. She knew it was the result of fencing and other forms of exercise. Yet, at that moment, they felt fragile in her lap.
“That isnae what I see,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “I see a man who was hurt. Profoundly. A man who has been carryin’ a burden all his life that no one should ever have to carry alone. A man who is strong enough to finally tell the truth. That is not coldness, Hugo. That is courage.”
“I…” he trailed off.
She squeezed his hands, her tears falling onto their entwined fingers. “And I daenae believe for a second that ye cannae feel again. Whether or nae ye realize it, ye already do. And it isnae a weakness. It is the most wonderful, terrifyin’, beautiful thing in the world.”
She reached up, her fingers tracing the line of his beaded jaw, then cupping his cheek.
“Oh, Hugo,” she whispered. “Whatever will I do with ye?”
“I think the better question is, what will I do with you, dear Elspeth?”
Hugo leaned in slowly, carefully, as though she were a skittish creature he dared not startle. His hands slipped free of hers, rising to cradle her face. His thumb traced the delicate line of her cheek, the touch so gentle that it sent a shiver through her.
She melted into the warmth of his palm. Then, lowering his head, he brushed his mouth over hers in the barest whisper of a kiss—soft, searching, a question rather than a claim. His tongue grazed her lips in a tentative caress, coaxing rather than demanding.
“Ye’ll come up with somethin’, I reckon,” Elspeth murmured as she brought her mouth to his ear. “Why nae show me?”