Chapter Eighteen #2
William stopped her and kissed her forehead.
“Your actions did naught to put me there. The actions of several men blinded by sorrow and vindictiveness and righteousness did this. I hate that Eoghan succumbed to those misguided rumors, and my heart aches. It bleeds. I am wrecked at the loss of dear kin by my own hand.” He held out his right hand as if it still held his bloodied sword.
“I dinna believe I will ever recover from such betrayal. But he is responsible for his own actions. He could have stepped back and yielded. He could have stopped at any time. Instead, he pressed forward and threatened ye. Threatened your life,” he added with emphasis, then paused, resting his lips against her dingy hair before he continued.
“Alba is in too much turmoil right now to worry if a single woman or man behaves oddly or holds pagan beliefs. More importantly,” he added, taking her hands in his and staring lovingly into her eyes.
“I made a vow to ye. No’ to a priest or an abbot or a king or God, to ye.
I made a vow to love ye and support ye and protect ye.
They should no’ have misled ye and lied about any betrayal of mine, but hear me now.
No matter what anyone else says, my vow to ye is true until my last breath leaves my body. ”
Her arms snaked around his waist. She had caused so much turmoil since she had arrived, upending William’s life and his understanding of the world, yet he remained staunch and devout in his love and fidelity to her.
“I dinna deserve the love ye give me. I dinna know anyone who is so deserving,” she whispered.
“I dinna love ye because ye deserve it or that it must be earned. I love ye for ye.” Then he dipped his head lower to her ear. “Old Ailith or new Ailith, I love ye for ye.”
She pressed her cheek into his stained tunic that reeked of sweat and metallic blood. “Ye have been so open with me, so heartfelt, and I fear I have no’ been as…well…vocal, about it.”
“Ye dinna have to say –” he started to say, but she lifted her cheek off his tunic and cupped his jaw in her hand. It was a comfortable weight, as was the rest of his body against her.
And she understood she had her own awakening today – of the true depth of William’s love and the power of their relationship. That no matter what happened, he would ever be by her side. She flushed with warmth.
“I do. I have to say it. I had no’ known such a love like this might exist. That one man might become part of my heart, become part of me.
I love ye in a way that is impossible, William.
I dinna know how or why, but I do. And I need for ye to hear it.
” She paused, feeling his pulse under the curve of his jaw. Her voice dropped. “And I’m so sorry.”
His face softened, and his blue eyes were as watery as the sea.
“Ye have naught to be sorry for, lass. ‘Twasn’t your fault that a few Grants and the abbot had this enmity against ye.”
Ailith shook her head, dirty, dark-red locks falling in her face.
“Isn’t it, though? My actions, my recklessness .
. .?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “Nay, I’m sorry that I believed that ye would betray me,” she continued.
“That I let the words of those vile people sway me into thinking ye would side with them, call me a pagan witch, and want me imprisoned or worse for that accusation. I never should have believed them.”
Her words must have struck a chord because his arms tightened around her, and his breathing increased, his chest swelling against her.
“Can ye forgive me, mo ruaidh? I was no’ here, and I let the rumors run rampant, even though I warned ye about the danger they might cause.”
She shook her head again and gazed up at him. “There’s naught to forgive.”
He looked down at her, his bright blue eyes burning into hers.
The side of his weary lips curled into his cheek.
“Then ‘tis naught to forgive for ye, either. Yet, might I request a favor? Can ye stay out of a wee bit of trouble from now on? Give me a chance to heal and mayhap enjoy married bliss for a time?”
He tried for levity, but Ailith did not let him off that easily. “I can try . . . but who knows what tomorrow might bring?”
A shadow crossed his face briefly before his gentle smile returned. “Ye do,” he whispered and pressed his forehead against hers. “Come, mo ruaidh. Sine and wee Brian will be worried for ye, and our chambers await. Let’s go home. I’ve missed ye from my bed.”
She could not deny that need. After a night in a pit and William gone from her side, the prospect of a warm, soft bed, and taking him between her thighs, then falling asleep in his arms was sheer bliss.
After a bath, of course. She had spent the previous night in a muddy pit, after all.
“Aye,” she responded in a wavering voice. “Take me home. Home to Drumoak.”
They could not ride home quickly enough. The worst was behind them, and it was time to focus on exactly what William had requested – sharing their life together as man and wife, on planting her life-saving mushrooms, and on the future of the Gordon and MacDougal clans.
Together.
The End.