Chapter Six #5
“First of all,” Wilkie said, sounding highly irritated, “believe me when I say I was not the first to have touched her virtue.”
“Yet you admit you may have left her in a compromised position,” the laird said.
“She put herself into any number of positions, despite my attempts to restore her self-respect,” Wilkie replied.
“In fact, I was attempting to take my leave and told her that several times, and quite emphatically, at that. She was... I won’t go into details, but suffice to say it felt more honorable in the moment to oblige her than to refuse her.
Yet I made it perfectly clear to her that nothing would come of it.
I made no promises. And as for an impending heir—’tis not an issue.
” He sounded somewhat uncomfortable when he clarified his point.
“I made very sure that would not come to pass.”
These details were distressing to me, to be sure.
But it was hardly surprising that a man like Wilkie Mackenzie would be highly sought-after, in every regard.
To learn that he was in fact on the very verge of being betrothed to another woman sent a cold chill through my bones, but it didn’t settle.
After all, I was used to being an outsider and to having little value, to having nothing to hope for beyond my limited realm.
Wilkie had introduced hope and joy and beauty into my life, and in highly concentrated form.
And this tumble of beauty was so new and so fresh that it lingered—insistently—even in the face of this unwelcome information.
“Regardless,” the laird said, becoming increasingly agitated.
“Her father is most interested in securing an alliance, and soon. If you don’t favor Maisie, then choose one of the others.
He has no less than seven daughters and nieces to choose from.
He made a point of stating that you have the choice of either of the sisters—any, in fact.
Stella is less than willing, yet the laird is more interested in securing this alliance than indulging the whims of his daughters. ”
Kade managed to sound entertained. “That would ensure harmonious family relations between the sisters.”
“You can take your pick, Wilkie, is what he was implying. But be sure of this—you will marry one of the Morrisons, and I’m afraid that’s the end of it,” the laird proclaimed.
“The arrangements have already begun. They arrive next week, and if Laird Morrison insists on it, the marriage will take place during their visit. This is not news to you, brother. You agreed to it some time ago.”
“In fact I never agreed to it,” Wilkie said. “I agreed to consider it. You, of all people, Knox, know that I have had second thoughts about marrying a woman I have no feelings for—”
“You had feelings of one sort or another—” interrupted the laird.
But Wilkie countered the laird’s interruption with his own.
“I did not have feelings for her. We shared a brief moment in time. One that has now passed. Let me remind you that marriage may not be the only way to secure an alliance with the Morrison army. I have always taken your point of view to heart, brother, and followed your orders dutifully. But I am having difficulty with this one. I beg you to consider other options.”
Wilkie paused, and I got the impression there were layers of emotion at work between the brothers.
Wilkie’s voice sounded heavier, more grave, when he continued.
“I agreed,” he repeated, “to consider marriage to a Morrison, out of respect to you, and our father. But I am thinking of our mother when I tell you this—now it seems I have another preference.”
This was the first I’d heard any of the Mackenzies mention their mother, and though Wilkie mentioned her with fondness in his voice, I couldn’t help but wonder what he meant by this comment.
“Wilkie,” the laird continued, now somewhat exasperated but clearly affected by Wilkie’s mention of their parents.
“You have the choice of any woman of noble blood in all of Scotland. Yours for the taking.” His voice was so low I could barely hear his next statement.
“I’ve made allowances to speed your recovery.
Take what you need of her. Do what you must. But this lass is not—”
Wilkie cut off the laird’s statement before he could finish. “Cupid’s arrow has pierced my heart.”
“That was Cupid’s sword that pierced you,” replied Kade dryly, “and you can be thankful that it missed your heart.”
The laird had heard enough, apparently. There was the sound of movement.
“The decision is final, Wilkie, but if you insist, we’ll continue this discussion further when you’re fully possessed of your judgment,” he said, as though by now thoroughly convinced that his brother was still plagued by the delirium of fever.
“Kade and I have a meeting to attend. We’ll leave you to your rest. And I suggest you make the most of it.
We may have need to fight sooner than we thought. ”
“What do you mean?” asked Wilkie, rather testily.
“The Campbell rebellion,” explained Kade. “’Tis escalating once again, and quickly.”
“I’ll come with you,” Wilkie said.
“Are you sure you’re up to it?” Kade asked. “You—”
“Aye,” Wilkie replied. “Get me a shirt.”
I could hear the sound of rustling clothing as Wilkie dressed, cursing only once from the effort. The laird said nothing further, perhaps still embroiled in his annoyance over Wilkie’s stubbornness. Their footsteps retreated as they strode down the hall to the staircase and below.
* * *
I COLLAPSED INTO A CHAIR by the dying fire. I had much to think about. For now, I would savor the memory of each and every succulent sensation of him, and look forward to the next stolen moment.
Christie came to me, entering the antechamber quietly, as though wary of being observed. As soon as she saw me, she stopped, agog, staring for several seconds at my new presentation.
“Well, that’s certainly an improvement,” she said, in that kind but honest way she had. “You’ll put Wilkie in a state, to be sure, when he sees you.” Christie smiled at the thought.
She sat with me, contemplating my somber expression.
“What are you thinking, Roses? You had such a thoughtful look on your face when I interrupted you.”
I smiled at her, attempting to dislodge my own worries. “’Tis nothing, Christie.”
She leaned back in her chair, watching the flicker of the fire for a moment.
I could see she had no intention of letting me off so easily.
“That was some commotion the other night, was it not?” she began.
“Wilkie calling to you, and very nearly barging into your chambers as a man possessed. I’ve never seen anything like it in all my life.
I’ve certainly never seen my carefree brother behave in such a way. Not a once.”
I paused and decided to indulge her curiosity. I wanted to trust her and had a strong feeling that I could. “Aye,” I agreed. “I believe he was overcome by his delirium.”
“I believe,” Christie said, “he has been overcome by you, Roses. You should know that Wilkie has never allowed a woman into his own chambers before. He’s an intensely private person, for all his social tendencies.
He’ll visit, aye, and he receives many invitations.
” She paused, as though considering how to delicately express what she wanted to say.
She was treading more carefully than I had yet seen her do.
“Yet he is not one to issue invitations, if you get my meaning.”
I understood what she was implying. And I couldn’t help but confess: “I wasn’t so much as issued an invitation, I’m sure.
It was more of an order, I believe, to help him and assist his recovery.
” Yet it was far more than that; I knew it, and Christie did, too.
In my own mind, Wilkie’s request to have me near was much more than an invitation.
He wanted me and needed me. In those deathly, fevered, magical moments at the cave and beyond, we had been an inexplicable necessity to one another.
Our fight and our blood had bonded us. This was a realization that pleased me but also worried me.
I knew how indelible that bond felt to me: permanent and alarmingly all-encompassing.
But I wondered if Wilkie felt it as intensely as I did.
I already felt owned by him. As if he had issued me with a new tattoo, this one inked to my heart.
Could our connection last here in Wilkie’s reality?
Or would it be forced aside, as Wilkie’s duty took precedent?
Without meaning to, I spoke my question aloud. “I wonder what is to become of me.”
“I don’t know, Roses,” Christie replied. “Only Wilkie—and you—can decide that.”
“Perhaps he’ll keep me close until he tires of me,” I commented, feeling somewhat dejected at the errant thought.
Would I become a kitchen servant of the Mackenzie clan, or would I be cast out, escorted perhaps—or perhaps not—to the Macduffs’?
Christie couldn’t answer me, nor confirm her brother’s feelings either way, but it felt somewhat cathartic to voice my very real concerns.
“Or perhaps he’ll want me as a mistress after he weds one of Morrison’s brigade of daughters and nieces.
Maybe he’ll take me with him to the Morrison keep when he becomes their new laird.
Or perhaps he’ll choose some other heiress to marry, as is his birthright. ”
“I wish I could tell you what you want to hear, Roses. But none of these decisions are mine to make, I’m afraid. ’Tis all in the hands of my brothers.”
“My future is uncertain indeed,” I agreed, appreciating her sympathetic manner, even if her words offered no comfort.