Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
A iden was more than simply concerned about his wife. He was downright terrified on her behalf.
Was it possible that she had some mental defect that made her change her moods so quickly? If that was true, why didn’t Connor or Onnleigh mention it? Certainly, they of all people would have been aware of any issue with Margaret’s mind.
How could she go from dancing and laughing and allowing him to kiss her so tenderly one moment, to fleeing and crying her eyes out the next?
’Twas a puzzle, to be certain.
He was halfway down the staircase when he remembered what Lizabet had told him.
He had witnessed Helen MacCallen’s insanity with his own eyes.
He ran the events of that night through his mind as he paused on the staircase. Margaret had arrived that fateful night, nearly frozen to death, clutching little Nola MacCallen to her breast.
Chattering teeth, trembling hands and feet, and a horrid shade of gray, Aiden had worried she might die if they didn’t get her warm. Yet the babe was perfectly fine, all cozy and warm, with pink cheeks and big blue eyes that twinkled in the candlelight.
An involuntary shudder traced up and down his spine when he remembered that night. Margaret had refused to stay at his keep in order to rest and warm up her frozen extremities.
She had been exhausted, barely able to speak, but she had shown a sense of strength and endurance that impressed him.
He had two choices: He could go below stairs and enjoy the rest of the evening with his family, or he could go back to his bedchamber and demand his wife talk to him.
’Twas an easy decision. He went back to his bedchamber.
Margaret was right where he left her, on the floor, crying to the point of sobs and hiccups.
Without asking permission, he went to her, gently grabbed her arms, and lifted her to her feet. This time, she didn’t protest. She fell into his arms, resting her head against his chest.
They stood for a long while in silence as she held onto him for dear life, clutching his tunic with two fists. As she cried against his chest, he rubbed her back gently with the palm of his hand.
The more she cried, the sorrier he felt for her. ’Twasn’t pity, but genuine sorrow. Sorrow for her upbringing and sorrow for whatever was breaking her heart.
“Margaret, what has ye so upset?”
She shook her head against his chest and sobbed harder.
While he wanted nothing more than to offer her comfort, he needed answers. “I cannae help ye if I dinnae ken what has ye so upset.”
Another shake of her head as his tunic grew damper and damper from all her tears. Och! I have never known any woman of any age to cry this much!
The fact that he couldn’t console her adequately enough to stop her tears was frustrating. One would think that a man with as many sisters as he had would be able to stop her tears rather quickly.
If she didn’t stop crying soon, she was apt to start vomiting again. Besides, her tears and sobs were breaking his own heart.
Finally, he could take no more. With great tenderness, he pushed her away from his chest so that he could look directly into her eyes. “Margaret?” he whispered. “Margaret? Please, stop cryin’.”
She refused to look him in the eye, instead shaking her head rapidly back and forth.
“Margaret!” he exclaimed. “Ye need to stop now. Else ye will make yerself sick again.”
“I-I cannae h-help it,” she finally stuttered.
“What is wrong?” His tone was firmer as his patience wore thin. “Tell me now.”
She hiccuped and was clearly fighting a hard battle to gain control of herself. Oh, how he hated not being able to simply fix whatever was wrong.
He waited until she got her breathing under control before asking her to explain what was wrong.
Margaret swallowed hard. “Ye will hate me,” she said on a sob. “Ye will cast me out and send me to live with my mother!”
He couldn’t help but to laugh slightly. “Lass, I give ye my word that there is naught ye could tell me that would make me send ye away.”
Of course, she didn’t believe him. “Nay, ye will,” she argued. “I did somethin’ horrible, Aiden. Somethin’ unforgivable.”
“Och!” he replied with a smile. “I doubt that verra much.”
She was studying him closely, looking for any sign of deceit. He continued to smile warmly at her, hoping she would see that he spoke the truth. “Lass, there is naught in this world that ye could have done that would make me cast ye out. Naught a thing.”
“Even murder?”
Margaret had blurted out the question and wished with all her heart that she could pull it back in. She gasped and tried to pull away, but Aiden refused to release her.
Instead of looking horrified or angry, he continued to smile. “Nae even murder.”
She assumed he believed her question was a test of sorts, to see what his limits were. Certainly, he couldn’t mean what he said.
“If ye took someone’s life, I am certain ye had good reason.”
She furrowed her brow in doubt as she continued to scrutinize him closely.
“And if I did nae have a good reason?” she challenged. “If I took his life because I am an evil, wicked woman?”
Confusion marked his brow. “Who on earth told ye that ye were evil or wicked?”
There was much anger reflecting back in his eyes. Oddly enough, she knew he wasn’t angry with her.
“’Tis true, Aiden,” she said. “I am evil and wicked. And if ye dinnae believe me, ye can ask my mother, or anyone in the MacCallen clan!”
She didn’t want his sympathy, or his pity, or his kindness. Nay, she wanted him to hate her with as much zeal and fervor as she hated herself.
She watched as he clenched his jaw and anger filled his eyes. “I will kill anyone who says ye are evil or wicked.”
Margaret scoffed openly. “Even if they are speakin’ the truth?”
“There is no truth to it,” he said through gritted teeth. “I have seen yer kindness,” he argued. “I have seen how ye are with my nieces and nephews. And I have heard from many of my people about your gentle side and kind ways. No one who is evil or wicked could be as kind as ye are. No one.”
She didn’t know if she should be happy he thought that of her or if she should pity him for his na?veté. Either way, he was going to end up with a very broken heart.
“Aiden, I dinnae think ye understand,” she began to protest.
“Nay, ye dinnae understand,” he said as he began to gently caress her back. “I made a vow to ye, Margaret. An eternal vow the day we wed. Nothin’ ye could ever do will make me break that vow. I will ne’er turn my back on ye. I will protect ye to the end of time.”
She thought back to the day they were wed. She couldn’t remember a word that was said, nor any promises she may have made that day. Nay, she had been far too consumed with guilt, trepidation, and worry.
Oh, how she wished she could remember it now. But since she couldn’t, she decided she would have to take Aiden at his word.
They sat in silence for a long while. The sound of the fire crackling in the hearth and the occasional sizzle from the candles burning about the room blended with the sounds of their breaths.
Margaret began to feel a sense of peace wash over her, and for the first time in a long, long time, she began to feel safe. And although she couldn’t look at him right now, she knew, deep down, that she could trust Aiden.
“Margaret, ye dinnae need to tell me anything ye dinnae wish to tell me. I will nae force ye to speak of it. I will never force ye to do anythin’ ye dinnae wish to do. I give ye my word, lass.”
While she believed him, truly, she was not quite ready yet to divulge the entirety of her secret to him. “Thank ye, Aiden.”
Hearing her thank him meant more than she could possibly realize. Yet another turning point in their relationship.
“Ye must be exhausted, lass,” he said, rubbing her back once again. “The hour is late, and ye have had a very tiring night.”
Gently, he helped her down from his lap, and together, they stood and faced one another. His desire to kiss her again was becoming more than he could bear, but he had just made a vow to never make her do anything she did not wish to do.
The poor woman was exhausted, her eyes red and her skin blotchy from all the crying she had done. Still, he thought she was beautiful and her lips far too tempting.
“I shall see ye in the morn,” he said as he gave a slight bow at his waist. “I pray ye sleep well.”
He was halfway to the door when the sound of her voice stopped him. “Aiden, please dinnae go.”
He froze, certain he hadn’t heard her correctly. Unable yet to look at her, for fear he was mistaken, he spoke over his shoulder. “Lass?”
A long moment passed before she repeated herself. “Please, dinnae go.”
Slowly, he turned to face her. He saw the fear in her eyes. Or was it apprehension?
“Would ye like to me stay until ye have fallen asleep?” He’d do anything she asked of him in this moment. He would not push his own desires onto her.
“I ken ye sleep in the men’s solar,” she said, her voice cracking ever so slightly.
“I do,” he said softly as he carefully studied her face.
Margaret cleared her throat before speaking again. “I think, as the chief of yer clan, ’tis unfair that ye sleep in the men’s solar.”
He chuckled softly, unable to hide his smile. He remained quiet, letting her get out whatever it was she needed to say.
She shifted her weight to her left foot. Aiden noticed she had clasped her hands together so tightly that her knuckles were beginning to turn white. Aye, she was nervous and afraid. His smile faded, as he very much wanted to end her discomfort.
“Lass, what is it ye are tryin’ to say?”
She took in a slow, deep breath. “I am nae quite ready yet for”—she fought hard to find the right words—“a more intimate relationship with ye. But I also dinnae wish to be alone at night. And I dinnae want ye to sleep in the solar.”
He knew it took whatever ounce of pride she had left to utter the words. “Verra well, lass. I shall stay. But I will nae sleep on the floor, and neither shall ye.” He’d sleep in his own damned bed, next to the wife he was quickly beginning to adore. ’Twas far too soon yet to say he was falling in love with her.
Lifting her chin a bit, she said, “Thank ye, Aiden.”
He felt a tug of something strong at his heart. His wife, the woman he had not too long ago been convinced didn’t possess a heart, was beginning to show her true self. Aye, she was strong, but she was also quite vulnerable.
“Thank ye, lass.”
“For what?”
He smiled warmly. “I thank ye for trustin’ me. And my back thanks ye in advance for allowin’ me to sleep in me own bed.”