Chapter 20
It’s been too quiet… Where is me wife? I havenae seen her durin’ the day since I took her to the loch.
It was easy to attribute it to his own busy schedule at first. He’d been visiting their prisoner daily in an attempt to get more information from him.
More of his men had been dispatched to the village in hopes of finding the man’s accomplice.
Perhaps if the first wouldn’t reveal who paid him, the second would.
I’m nae hopeful though. The one we have is without a doubt the man we’ve been lookin’ for. There’s a good chance that his partner doesnae ken a thing about it.
Ryan knew that he’d been distracted by this investigation.
Truthfully, he felt as though it were the most important thing he’d done since becoming Laird McGhee.
Finally, after a year of searching fruitlessly, he had his first lead on the murder that had made him Laird.
It was as if nothing else mattered at the moment.
But after a few days of not seeing his wife except for when they retired to their shared quarters, Ryan was quite certain Margaret was avoiding him.
He wasn’t completely scarce within the castle.
He made appearances at mealtimes and walked the halls and garden to clear his mind.
He’d run into nearly everyone who lived here at one point.
The only person that he couldn’t seem to catch was Margaret.
He frowned as he marched through the corridors. As he moved, he noticed that it wasn’t just Margaret who seemed to be avoiding him. The maids averted their gazes and quieted their discussions whenever he got too near to them.
Ach, so the rumors havenae stopped even though we’ve been wed. That must be botherin’ her. But could she nae come to me about it?
He managed to catch the eye of one of the maids before she scurried away from him. Crossing the stone floor with his head held high, he noticed the way her cheeks flushed. When he stopped in front of her, it was as if she were unable to meet his gaze.
“Have ye seen Lady McGhee?” Ryan asked, thinking better of interrogating this poor maid about what she’d been whispering about.
Best I take care of one problem at a time.
If he wanted to know what kind of gossip was being spread, he’d be better off getting his information from Margaret’s maid.
She was always quite eager to share, even if she was talking to the target of the gossip.
It was annoying, but he appreciated that at least one of the maids on his staff was forthcoming.
“Nae since this mornin’, Me Laird,” the maid said, forcing herself to meet his eye. “But I believe Cali said the Lady would be in her chambers. Perhaps she’s still there?”
“Aye, perhaps she is,” Ryan grunted before turning away from her.
If the maid responded, Ryan didn’t hear her. He was already striding toward his wife’s private chambers. That must be where she’d been disappearing over the past few days. He hadn’t bothered checking because he wanted to allow her to have a space that he didn’t invade.
Unfortunately, things had gotten out of hand, and Ryan didn’t have another choice. Once he’d gotten this sorted out, he’d leave the room as her private place. For now, he had to confront her to ensure that she was well.
When he arrived outside of her chambers, the door was open, and afternoon light was flowing into the corridor. He stepped forward, looking into the room and spotting her by the window. She’d placed her easel there and had a canvas propped against it as if she were using the view as inspiration.
In her hand, she held a palette with several colors. She dipped her paintbrush in blue and then into green. Ryan watched as she mixed them in an empty area. Then, with the bristles loaded, she brought it to the canvas with a remarkably steady hand.
“So this is where ye’ve been,” Ryan said, his voice causing Margaret to jump in an exaggerated manner.
A line of sea-green paint marred the white surface on her easel. She spun toward him, her eyes wide. The brush was clutched in her fist as though it were a weapon. Ryan couldn’t help but think that it was cute how she attempted to make herself intimidating.
The instincts on her are good, aye, but there is nay way she’s scarin’ anyone lookin’ like that.
“You frightened me,” she said breathlessly, taking half a step away from him, her fingers tightening slightly on the handle of her brush.
“I wasnae sneakin’ up on ye,” Ryan said, crossing his arms and frowning as she put more distance between the two of them. “And ye cannae expect nae to be disturbed if ye’re keepin’ yer door open.”
“I wanted a breeze,” Margaret said as her body relaxed incrementally. She still held her tool out, though it drooped now. “And I suppose I was quite absorbed in my painting… though I can’t say I’m satisfied with what I’ve done thus far.”
“Do ye nae have anythin’ to show for the past few days?” Ryan asked as he stepped into the center of the room. Somehow, she was still hiding away from him even though he was right in front of her. “I assume ye’ve been workin’ on yer art since I havenae seen ye.”
“Well, I keep restarting,” she murmured, focusing on the canvas as if to avoid his gaze. “I can’t seem to get anything onto the canvas that I’m satisfied with. And then, there are situations like this where I make a wild stroke over something that I was starting to like…”
Ryan felt his patience waver. Perhaps it was foolish to assume that the wall she’d erected between them had crumbled, but her avoidance of him was grating. If anything, she wanted to be around him even less now. It didn’t make any sense to him.
“Ye’ve been avoidin’ me,” he said, an edge of annoyance bleeding into his voice. “Ever since our night at the loch, ye’ve been keepin’ away from me.”
“No,” she replied though she was still refusing to look at him, her eyes now focused on a point somewhere over his shoulder. “I’ve simply been preoccupied with my painting.”
“I’d be more inclined to believe ye if ye had anythin’ to show me,” he said, taking another step forward. “Ye daenae even have an old canvas to show. Are ye sure ye havenae just been sittin’ in here to stay out of me sight?”
He was only a few paces away from her. Finally, she angled her chin up to meet his eyes. There was something there, under the surface, fear and an emotion more complicated. Part of him longed to be able to read the intricacies of her expressions.
“Well,” she explained, with a slight tremor in her voice, “I’ve restarted several times. So—”
“That’s enough, Margaret,” he said, getting even closer. He could reach out and touch her if he wanted. “I ken ye’re avoidin’ me. Tell me what happened. Is it the maids and their gossipin’? Was it what happened at the loch?”
At that, she froze, looking away again. It seemed as though he’d guessed correctly. His fingers twitched, aching to reach out to touch her, but he thought better of it. There was no use in it yet, not if she was still upset about his actions a few nights ago.
“Tell me what’s botherin’ ye,” he sighed, softening his voice a bit to encourage her to share. “Did I do somethin’ wrong a few nights ago?”
Aye, she is makin’ me softer. There’s nay denyin’ that.
“No, you didn’t do anything wrong,” she said with a sigh. “I just…”
Ryan stayed quiet, waiting as she parsed through her thoughts. Her mouth opened and closed twice. Then, she swallowed and looked to the side.
The Laird’s presence was exhilarating, even though he was dangerous. She’d been able to ignore it in the whirlwind of the wedding festivities, but now, she shared a bed with him each night. Now, she’d been intimate with him.
I just can’t reconcile the two different sides of him that I’ve seen. He’s so gentle with me. Yet… I know that he can be vicious. I’ve seen it. I’m almost disgusted that I allowed someone capable of cruelty touch me. I thought I was more principled than this.
“Ye ken, I cannae fix whatever it is if ye daenae tell me what I did wrong,” he said when she didn’t offer a further explanation. His voice took on a gentle quality that only made her thoughts twist more. “Avoidin’ me isnae going to solve anythin’.”
“I’m just torn,” she said, the words spilling out of her lips. With that tone and the way he was looking at her, she couldn’t hide from him any longer. “I can’t believe that I let someone so cruel touch me.”
“Cruel?” Ryan asked, his brow furrowing. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think that she’d hurt the Laird with her words. “I have nae been cruel to ye. I’ve treated ye with nothin’ but respect.”
Margaret sucked in a breath, squeezing the paintbrush in her fist. It wasn’t a real weapon, but still she wielded it as one. Anxiety bubbled up in her gut. She shifted her weight from foot to foot, biting the inside of her cheek. He was right.
“Would ye at least tell me why ye think me cruel?” he pushed.
I’m going to have to tell him what I saw before the wedding. Hopefully, he continues to be respectful toward me even after learning that I was spying.
“I saw what you were doing,” she muttered, putting the brush on the edge of the easel, making herself feel more vulnerable.
When Ryan cocked an eyebrow, she continued, “I overheard you saying that you’d starve a man you were going to throw in the dungeon.
He was bound in the courtyard. You kicked him when he tried to get up. ”
Ryan pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes closed as he murmured under his breath, “This castle is full of nosy lasses who want to interfere where they shouldnae, and there’s nae a thing I can do about it.”
“Yet you were threatening him in the courtyard,” Margaret replied, standing a little straighter, upset at the implication that she was being nosy. She may have sat back and watched, but that was never her intention. “I didn’t set out to see that, but I did.”
“I didnae say that ye did,” he said, dropping his hand to his side. “But I suppose I assumed that ye would be kept occupied inside the castle.”