Chapter 4
The words hung in the dim light, and Kristen’s breath hitched. A shiver ran through her before she could stop it. It was not from fear alone, and that scared her more than any shadow.
She lifted her chin to hide it. “It is late,” she said coolly.
Neil did not move.
She pinned him with a glare. “Go find something to do in yer precious tower; I daenae care. And if ye mean to crawl into me bed, ye can start by finding a razor. Have ye become that much of a savage?”
His eyebrows flew up in surprise, and his mouth twitched. He studied her face.
“Kicking me out of me own room,” he drawled. “Me castle has found a new mistress.”
“Aye. And it learned to keep itself without ye,” she said. “Go.”
For a breath, he held her gaze, weighing something she could not see. She arched an eyebrow, daring him to push.
He gave her a slow nod. “As ye like.” He turned for the door. “Me wife gives orders now.”
“She does,” Kristen affirmed. “And she expects them to be kept. This is nay longer the obedient lass ye left behind five years ago, Neil.”
An amused smile crept onto his face.
She knew he could send her away if he wanted. He had been gone for years, but he still had all the power. He could choose to chase her out of his quarters for tonight and settle in. At the end of the day, this was his castle.
However, he didn’t do any of that. For some reason, he chose to obey. He opened the door and stepped out into the corridor. The latch met wood with a clean click. His footsteps faded along the stone floor.
Silence fell at once. Kristen stood by the bed, with her hands curled in the sheet, her fingers clenched until they ached.
“Brilliant, Kristen,” she muttered under her breath. “Ye went and challenged the Wolf of the North.” She paced three steps and back. “Ye will die of mortification before he ever lays a hand on ye. Ye asked him to shave like a fishwife. God save me.”
She stopped and pressed her knuckles to her mouth. The room smelled of banked peat and soap. The scent tugged at the same traitorous place that had answered his voice. She ignored it.
“I did it to take the reins,” she told the empty room.
“I did it to keep the whip from landing where it hurts worst. I did not do it because a part of me wanted him in me bed.” She shook her head, steeling her resolve.
“I willnae let him break me again. I am nae the lass who stood at the altar and tried nae to shake.”
What if he truly comes to me bed every night?
She walked to the door and pressed her palm to the cool wood. Beyond it, the castle kept its winter hush.
“Enough,” she whispered. All she needed for now was sleep. Any other matter could come tomorrow.
Soft footsteps pattered down the corridor, and she heard the familiar sound of Maggie’s paws tapping the door. A small knock sounded—more a touch than a call.
“Me Lady,” came a whisper. “Are ye there?”
She opened the door and found Finn, his hair mussed, his face serious, his nightshirt wrinkled from sleep. Anna stood behind him with her thumb in her mouth. Maggie pushed her head into Kristen’s hip as if claiming her.
“Are ye cross, me Lady?” Finn asked, his brow furrowed. “Moira says that all is well, and Maggie isnae barking, but ye still look cross.”
Kristen knelt and smoothed his hair. The motion steadied her. “I am nae cross, love. I am only tired,” she soothed. “Nothing for ye to worry about.”
Anna pressed into her shoulder. Kristen gathered her close and breathed in the warm, milky scent of her little head.
“Did the wind scare ye?” she asked.
“A wee,” Anna mumbled around her thumb.
“Then we will shame it by nae listenin’,” Kristen said. “We will give it nay story to tell.”
Finn rocked on his heels and looked past her to the bed as if measuring enemies under the coverlet. “We can stay with ye,” he offered, brave as a small soldier.
Kristen’s throat tightened. “I think I will come to yer room instead. For a story, or a song, and then sleep will win.”
“Song,” Anna said at once.
“Story first,” Finn decided. “Then a song. Or two.”
“Greedy,” Kristen teased, her lips curling into a genuine smile.
Maggie huffed, pleased with the plan. She nudged Kristen’s shoulder as if to move her along.
“Very well,” Kristen said, rising. “Show me the way, Captain Finn. Lead us brave.”
Finn took her hand into his small one, and Anna took the other. Their fingers fit into the cracks her fear had left.
They walked down the short corridor together while Maggie trotted at their side like a gray shadow. A maid walked past, her head bowed in deference.
Kristen asked the children to walk ahead as she beckoned to the maid.
“Me Lady,” the maid greeted with a curtsy.
“Inform the others to prepare a proper breakfast tomorrow. The Laird has returned.”
The maid’s face went pale. “The Lai—”
“Aye. Me husband. He is back. Inform the others as soon as ye can, do ye hear me?”
“Aye, me Lady,” the maid responded, her voice clear but somewhat filled with questions Kristen did not have the time to answer.
She watched the maid leave and then caught up to the children.
“Will the wind hear us?” Anna asked.
Kristen slipped her hand back into hers. “It will,” she replied. “But it willnae bother ye if ye arenae scared of it. Maggie will also mind ye.”
“Maggie minds nay one else,” Finn boasted. “Only me.”
“Then we are in the best hands,” Kristen said.
They reached the children’s chamber, and Kristen stepped in first. The fire illuminated a neat stack of books and a wooden horse on its side, as if it had fallen asleep mid gallop. Moira had left a candle safe in its cup.
Finn tugged Kristen toward the bed. “Tell us the story about the bee who wore a bonnet,” he demanded.
“That is nonsense,” Kristen chuckled.
“It is the best one,” Finn insisted.
“The bee goes bzzz,” Anna said solemnly.
“Indeed,” Kristen agreed.
She tucked them under covers and sat on the edge. Maggie flopped on the rug with a heavy sigh, satisfied to have her flock in a pile again.
Kristen set her hands on the blanket and let the silence of their small world envelop her. Her marriage felt like a house built wrong and left in a storm. The children were in the warm room with the door shut, and tonight, she would stay inside it.
“Sleep, wee lambs,” she murmured. “I am here.”
Finn’s eyes grew heavy. Anna hummed and pressed into Kristen’s hip. Even the dog’s breathing evened out.
Kristen kept her eyes on the children. She would face the morning when it came. Tonight, she would be their ma and let the castle enjoy its peace. Or at the very least the illusion of it.
The next morning found her in the courtyard because that was where everything seemed to settle. The sun warmed the stones while Finn chased Maggie with a wooden horse. Anna tottered after them, laughing when the dog stole the toy and pranced away with it.
“Faster!” Finn cried.
“She is a thief,” Kristen said, clapping. “Catch her, Captain.”
Maggie dodged, but eventually let Finn win. Anna tried to sit on the horse and scolded the dog in a serious voice.
Their joy soothed Kristen’s nerves.
She kept moving with them.
Toss the ball. Tap the hoop. Praise the catch.
The movements seemed simple enough.
Inside, however, a thought tugged. She could handle two wild bairns and a stubborn dog. But one glower from her husband had nearly undone her last night.
Finn slipped his hand into hers. “Is the man from last night still here?” he asked.
Her stomach flipped. “He is tired,” she said. “We will speak about him later. Today we play. Maggie, sit.”
Maggie sat at once.
Anna applauded and shouted the dog’s name as if she had cast a spell.
They circled the apple tree and counted bees at the rosemary bed, which Finn declared soldiers on patrol. Kristen laughed along with them. Still, the castle felt changed, as if a new door had appeared, and the mere thought of walking through it weakened her.
When the bell for breakfast rang, she kissed them both on the brow. “To the kitchens,” she instructed. “Wash first. Eat everything ye can. I will come soon.”
Moira led them away, with Maggie in tow, and Kisten climbed up the stairs to her chamber. Inside, she turned the lock and opened her chest, then pulled out two gowns and laid them on the bed. After a moment’s thought, she pulled out a third one.
She held the blue gown to the morning light. It was simple and well-cut. She touched the seam Davina had mended and felt strength in the neat work.
It will do.
“Help me, Elsie,” she demanded when the maid came with warm water. “I am late.”
Elsie laced up her gown and smoothed the sleeves. She paused once as if a question had grown heavy on her tongue, then seemed to let it go. “Shall I fetch yer ribbon box, me Lady?”
“Nay,” Kristen replied. “The plain comb will do.”
She pinned her hair back. It looked nice enough. Then again, she was not trying to catch a certain someone’s attention.
Because if there was one thing she refused to do, it was seek Neil Adair’s attention. A little color on her lips and cheeks, but not much. It should not matter what she wore before a man who had not looked at her for five years.
The thought stung.
Would he finally explain his absence, or would he simply vanish into his tower and leave her to face the questions alone?
“Shall I bring the gray shawl?” Elsie asked.
“Aye,” Kristen said. “The hall is draughty.”
A second maid appeared, her cheeks pink. “Me Lady, they are ready for ye in the Great Hall.”
Kristen let out a breath, then smoothed down her gown and straightened her back.
The corridors were busy with quiet work. Boys carried trenchers, and maids walked past with laundry from the previous day. The door to the Great Hall stood open, letting out the smell of porridge and fresh bread. She squared her shoulders and went in.
Faces turned, as they always did. She felt eyes swivel to her and slide away. She made for the table, keeping a slow pace.
Davina twisted slightly as Kristen took the seat beside her. “Ye look tired, lass,” she murmured. “Long night?”
“Only a busy one,” Kristen answered. “The children were bees, and I was the flower.”
“That sounds like them,” Davina laughed. She poured a small measure of ale and passed it over. “Eat.”
Kristen thanked her and reached for the bread. Her glance drifted to the high table. The chair at the end waited. She looked away before hope could flare in her breast.
“Will Anna wear blue ribbons?” Davina asked.
“She will claim them,” Kristen snorted. “Finn will help her, and nothing will be straight.”
She dipped a piece of bread in honey and popped it in her mouth. Then she cut a pear and put a slice on Davina’s trencher in a bid to keep her hands busy.
She was about to pop another piece of bread in her mouth when the doors at the far end opened. A gust of wind drifted down the hall, and the murmurs died down.
Kristen did not turn at once. Instead, she felt the shift touch her like a cool hand on the nape of her neck. She looked up eventually, and her eyes caught Neil as he walked in.
Clean skin. Freshly shaven. Hair tamed and tied. A dark coat that fit his broad shoulders and a linen shirt, white at the collar. His hands had been scrubbed to a new color. For a heartbeat, she forgot how to breathe.
The man looked too much like the laird she had married, and nothing like the half-wild stranger from last night. He carried the room without even trying.
That was the Laird Drummond she remembered.
Kristen set her cup down, lest it betray the tremors in her fingers. She held still and listened for her breath until it came back small and steady. She did not look at Davina. Instead, she did her best to keep her expression neutral.
Neil crossed the floor at an easy pace, and a boy with a tray stared and nearly tipped the pears.
Kristen placed another slice of pear on Davina’s trencher just because she needed to do something. She pressed her palm flat against the table.
Neil did not look at her at first. He looked around the hall the way one would examine the remnants of a building destroyed by fire. Then his gaze found her and held.
The distance between them seemed to shrink, even though he was still halfway across the hall.
She remembered every rule she had set. She remembered the razor she had ordered him to find. Thin pride rose within her and steadied what had been shaken.
The hall seemed to wait with her for the breath to come. She eventually lifted her chin and breathed.
He was back. Her husband was well and truly back.