Chapter 22 #3
No one said much, but Struan could tell that they all approved.
A new school would mean more work for the locals, which was always needed, and Struan was suddenly excited by the idea of having more people, particularly young children, at the house.
He realized that he’d been so consumed by the idea of making his own family that he’d forgotten that his home was already surrounded with people he knew from birth.
And none of them cared that he now bore scars.
All they wanted was someone who cared about the land and the people living on it. And he could be that person.
“Pick some men to start work on the barn,” he told Tavish. “I’ll speak to the headmistress about lodging the children, and then see about the rebuilding.”
“Aye, sir.” Tavish gave him a short nod, the Highland equivalent of thunderous applause.
* * * *
Each day, Struan came to sit with Ellie frequently, giving her reports on what was happening, and he religiously applied the salve the doctor had made.
On the fourth day, she said, “I’m bored. I really am able to get up.”
“Absolutely not.”
She groaned. “What am I to do? Lie here naked and alone forever?”
“It won’t be forever. Soon you’ll be healed and you definitely won’t be alone at night.” That last was delivered as a promise.
Now she closed her eyes. “Struan. Is being with someone…like we are…”
“You mean fucking?” He kissed her bare shoulder softly.
“I can’t say that word.”
“Why not? It’s what we do, isn’t it?”
“But doesn’t that word…”
“Fucking.”
“Yes. Doesn’t that word…”
“Say it, Ellie.”
She bit her lip. Inhaled. Then whispered, “Fucking.”
“There you go. Now, what about fucking?”
“Well, just that…that’s not what married couples do, is it? There must be another word for when…”
He was puzzled. “For when…what?”
“When it’s not just two…bodies. It’s not just about taking pleasure. What’s the word for…fucking but when you’re in love?”
Struan stared at her for a long moment. “Love?”
“Yes. I love you, so when we’re together, it can’t be something as base as…fucking. It has to have another word to describe what’s happening, not just in my body, but in my heart. I mean, not the heart in my chest that beats. The heart in my…the heart that falls in love with you.”
“In love?” he echoed. “With me?”
“Who else? Every time you touch me I want to stop time so I can hold all the feelings up and just look at them. I’m so happy I could cry, and I want you to be happy too. Happy that you chose me. That’s what love is, yes?”
Stunned, he said, “Yes. Yes, you’re right. I’m sorry, Ellie. I’m no good at words. I won’t call it fucking again, if you don’t like it.”
“I just want to use the correct word. And fucking sounds too harsh.”
“Does it? What if we just say it more gently?”
She laughed then. “How would that sound?”
He leaned close so he could murmur in her ear, “Fucking.”
The little noise she made nearly killed him.
Then she turned her head to give him a quick kiss, and she said, “I love you. You can say whatever words you like, Struan. As long as you let me love you.”
Blood surging though his veins, he stood up. “I’ll…I’ll check in again later. Sleep, Ellie.”
She smiled even as her eyes slid closed.
He left the room, left the house. Struan couldn’t sit still, he couldn’t stay caged inside.
He needed to be out in wind and rain, away from the home he’d been dying to return to for years.
The home that Ellie had made bright and welcoming.
Ellie so innocently saying she loved him cut like a blade in his flesh.
He reached the high place where he could see for miles, the whole wild moorland surrounding him with its desolate beauty.
It hurt more because he loved her too. He loved her when she’d pulled all the mirrors together to create more light out of fewer flames.
He loved her when she curled up next to him and told him she would listen.
He loved her so fiercely that it scared him.
But saying the words out loud seemed like inviting disaster into his life.
How could he dare to feel any happiness or hope at this point?
If he told Elspeth how much he loved her, who knew what vengeful god or demon would overhear and decide to punish him for the audacity to be joyful?
He didn’t deserve to feel this good, this at peace.
He had lied to Elspeth from the moment he met her, and let her believe a fairy tale because he was too weak to tell her the truth.
He wasn’t sure how long he remained there, but the sky was going dark by the time he stood up to head back.
Struan took a deep breath, letting the cold air fill his lungs.
He had to tell her. He knew that. He’d always known that.
Calan had told him something when he confessed his dilemma to his friend.
The truth is like water. You can dam it up, divert it, try to contain it.
But it will find the tiniest seam in the rock and emerge.
Sometimes as a trickle. Sometimes a flood. But it will come out.
So Struan would tell her. No matter how much it hurt him, it couldn’t hurt more than it did to hide it. The lying and silence were clawing him hollow. He turned to face the direction of his home, where Ellie lay.
Ellie deserved to know. And she needed to know he loved her.