Chapter 14
Lilliana took special care with her appearance before going down to supper that evening. Betsy was all too happy to buff her cheeks with rouge made of safflower and then pat it down with talcum powder.
“I had no idea that we bought beauty accoutrements,” Lilliana commented.
Betsy shrugged. “I knew you would not be thinking about such things, but I thought it prudent to pack something lest you were invited to a ball or something.”
Lilliana snorted. “Hardly likely.” She looked around the room pointedly. “You surely do not think they care about such things here.”
“You never know, My Lady.” Betsy straightened up. “There you go. All done.” She held up the looking glass to Lilliana’s face. “Do you like it?”
Lilliana turned from side to side. She was wearing a deep red gown. The soft creamy swell of her breasts peeked out tantalizingly, and her neck seemed lengthened by the display of skin and her pinned-up hair. She wore simple pearl earrings and a pearl choker.
“It looks well. Hand me my shawl, please,” she said.
“Are you sure you want to wear one? You look quite well without it.”
“Perhaps a little too well. They do not dress up for dinner here.”
Betsy wisely refrained from asking why Lilliana was making such an effort. Lilliana did not think she had an answer to that question.
I had been stuck in bed for almost a week. Of course, I want to make an effort now. In case anyone was worried.
She nodded to herself, satisfied with that explanation. “Come, let us go before the timing of my entrance becomes too uncomfortable.”
She walked into the dining hall slowly. It was her first night in public since she fell ill, and she did not know what to expect. As she walked between the tables, she locked eyes with some people she had met before. Some nodded to her while others looked away.
She frowned, wondering what that was about.
Finally reaching the high table, she spotted Kayden as he got to his feet and gave her a bow in greeting.
She nodded to him and then took her seat, wanting to get off her feet before they stopped supporting her weight.
She nodded to Moira, who sat to her right.
She took a deep breath, plastered a smile on her face, and turned to face Kayden.
“Good evening to ye. Ye look well,” he said before she could utter a word.
She smiled. “That is kind of you to say.” She turned to look around the hall. “Not many seem happy to see me, though.”
Kayden did not look away from her. “I assure ye, they were as worried about ye as I was.”
She gave him a cynical look. “So, not very much then?”
Kayden chuckled, shaking his head. “I do hope ye said that in jest. I cannae have ye thinking I daenae care about yer welfare.”
Lilliana snorted and then turned to her other side to greet the housekeeper. “Moira. Good evening.”
Moira smiled. “Evening, Me Lady. How are ye feeling?”
Lilliana nodded. “As well as I can, I suppose. I was wondering if by chance you would know”—she cast an annoyed glance at her husband—“whether I am expected to host any teas or dinners, perhaps receive guests? It is customary for a newlywed couple in England to do so after the honeymoon. I am not sure if the same applies here.”
Moira frowned. “I daenae ken. I havenae seen that happen. Of course, ye would be expected to host if ye had visitors. Or organize events, where they are needed.”
“What of issuing orders and verifying accounts? Am I expected to do that?”
Moira’s frown deepened. “I daenae think so. Typically, the lady of the castle approves the menu before Cameron purchases food for the week. Otherwise, there are events to host and invites to send once the Laird gives his approval. Alliances. Treaties. All of that.”
Lilliana’s mouth twisted wryly. “I suppose that is why I am unable to go help the villagers.”
Moira huffed. “Aye, well…” She raised her voice slightly so that Kayden could hear as well. “That is something that is usually decided by ye and the Laird.”
Lilliana heard footsteps approaching and turned to see Old Fergus headed her way. She beamed, glad to see him, and got to her feet to welcome him.
“Fergus! Have you come to join us?”
His face was grim. “Nay. There is nay time for that. Me Laird, Me Lady, I am sad to report that we have had a death in the village.”
Lilliana frowned. “From the illness?”
“Aye,” Fergus said, nodding his head.
Lilliana folded her arms, perturbed, and turned to Kayden. “Surely now you can see that I have to go help,” she said desperately.
“What can ye do that isnae being done already?” Kayden asked gently.
“We can try to confirm the illness, so we know how to treat it! We can discover how it spreads instead of guessing. We can triage the patients based on the severity of their condition,” she said intently.
Kayden took a deep breath, pursing his lips before reaching out to unfold her arms and take her hands in his own. “I willnae let ye go,” he said, dipping his head to look into her eyes, his voice firm but gentle.
Lilliana glared at him, bosom heaving, teeth gnashing.
He looked back at her, unyielding.
With a shriek of frustration, Lilliana snatched her hands out of his and stood up, a string of sneezes echoing through the hall as she disappeared back into the depths of the castle.
Kayden waited until Lilliana disappeared before following her out of the hall. He was worried that she might try to run again or head to the village alone.
All he was trying to do was keep her safe.
He turned just in time to see a hint of her blood-red gown whipping around the corner, the silk clinging to her hips before flaring as she ran up the stairs.
That dress was a mistake. It drew every eye in the hall, and his most of all. She looked absolutely striking. Too striking. Like something set alight and left unattended.
He took a slow, deep breath and followed her.
Once he saw her step into her room, he went into his own and shut the door behind him, leaning against it with a long sigh.
The image of her at the high table lingered, the column of her throat above the crimson silk, the way the candlelight had caught in her hair, the way half of his clan had pretended not to stare… it all drove him mad.
There was a sharp bang against the connecting door, and before he could react, it flew open, framing Lilliana like an avenging angel. Kayden had unlocked it late last night in a moment of drink-induced foggy-headedness and had forgotten to turn the lock again.
He should have felt regret, but his mind cleared when he saw her soft blonde hair escaping from its plait, shining against the dark wood, and when her bright brown eyes shifted quickly to burn into him with righteous fury.
The red gown made her look less like a proper English lady and more like sin itself.
He straightened up. “Lilliana. This is a surprise.”
“Is it? I think we still have much to discuss.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Discuss? Ye mean yer string of endless demands?”
She stepped into the room, hands on her hips. “Endless?” she asked incredulously.
He shrugged with a smirk. “Seems so.”
“All I am asking for is a chance to use my knowledge to your villagers’ advantage! I do not understand why you are fighting me so hard on this.”
“Ye arenae ready to walk alone among the sick.”
“How would you know? What gives you the authority to make that judgment? I am your wife! Do you not think you should start treating me as such?”
He frowned. “Do I mistreat ye? What has one to do with the other?”
“You think your people do not see how you treat me? How you have treated me… discarded me like some useless accessory?”
His frown deepened. “I daenae ken what ye mean.”
“Every time I ask for a chance to do something, you tell me I cannot. You treat me like a petulant child, not like your wife. I am seen to have no authority. How do you expect your people to respect me? Or even accept me?” Lilliana said before breaking out in a series of sneezes.
Kayden took a deep breath, then let it out through his nose. “Ye need to stop thinking that everything revolves around ye and what ye want. I am trying to keep ye safe,” he snapped amid her sneezes.
“Why do you hate me so much? What did I do?” she asked, her eyes glittering, bosom heaving as she sneezed once again.
His fingers twitched, wanting to reach out and touch her, soothe her. He clenched his hand so as not to do it.
“Ye daenae understand anything,” he spat out.
“What do you mean by that?” she asked, her brow furrowed.
He dragged a hand down his face and turned away from her, pacing towards the hearth before stopping.
“I cannae do this again,” he said, voice rougher than before.
She stilled. “Again?”
He turned back sharply. “Ye speak of riding into danger as though it were nothing. As though I have not seen what that costs.” His gaze burned now, dark and unguarded. “Ye are very much like her.”
“Like… your sister?”
“Aye, Sorcha.” The word came out almost as a growl. “Always stepping where she shouldnae. Always believing she could mend what war had already broken.”
He closed the distance between them in two strides before she realized he had moved. His hand closed around her wrist. It was not painful, but firm enough that she felt the tremor beneath his skin.
“I willnae watch it happen twice,” he said low.
Her breath caught at his touch. “You cannot hold me responsible for your sister’s fate.”
“I hold meself responsible,” he snapped. “That is the difference.”
His thumb brushed against her pulse as though he could feel the truth of her through it. The room suddenly felt too warm, the air thick with the scent of steel and smoke that clung to him.
“She ran towards the crossfire,” he continued, quieter now. “I saw her disappear. I was too far. Too slow to react. A laird who cannae protect his own blood is nay laird at all.”
Lilliana’s free hand lifted hesitantly, brushing the scarred side of his chest where his palm had pressed moments ago. He sucked in a breath at the contact, the sound sharp between them.