Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
“Please, daenae touch me,” Emilie said, holding her hands up in front of her as if that would be enough to shield her from Laird McGregor.
Archer stopped, staring at Emilie as if she had just grown a second head.
“I was grabbin’ me night shirt,” he said, reaching for the garment that was hanging on a hook directly to her right.
Emilie flushed with embarrassment. She could not imagine what the Laird was thinking of her. She’d been terrified and trembling one minute, indignant and hot-headed the next.
I need to get a hold of meself. I’ll nae be convincin’ him to get an annulment if I keep actin’ like this.
She watched as Archer tugged the garment over his head. A long-sleeved white cotton shift that fell to just above his knees.
The pair was silent for a moment as Archer turned his back to her, lifting the front of his night shirt so that he could undo the fastenings of his kilt.
He did look quite lovely with his shirt off. I have to give him that.
Emilie flushed at the thought, shame bubbling in her belly. Multiple times tonight, she’d found herself admiring him, admiring his size, or the gray of his eyes, or the way he moved.
And all of those were things she knew all too well that she should not be noticing. Noticing those things, allowing herself to be affected by them, Emilie knew that it would only serve to keep her distracted from her ultimate goal, which was to find a way out of her marriage.
“I mentioned before that I wanted ye to care for the bairns,” Archer said as his kilt fell to the floor with a soft thud, and then he turned to face her.
“They have their tutor here four times a week. Their tutor will handle all of their studies, and they are nae to miss their lessons. Nae for any reason, do ye understand that?”
His tone was stern, and Emilie nodded her confirmation.
“I understand,” she murmured.
“I am raisin’ me future heir,” her husband continued. “And Clan McGregor is a large one. We have a lot of assets and a lot of people that we are responsible for. So, it willnae be good if me children are nae smart enough to handle it.”
“I understand,” Emilie said again, staring at Archer. “I’ll ensure they daenae miss their lessons.”
Archer nodded, finally accepting her words.
“Other than that,” he explained, “ye’ll be responsible for keepin’ them entertained. Ye’ll be carin’ for them, takin’ meals with them, gettin’ outside with them. Any instruments that ye want to teach them, readin’ to them… that is all up to ye, just as it would be to any maither.”
“I daenae ken how much Aurora will be willin’ to learn from me or to spend time with me,” Emilie said, recalling the way the young girl had yelled at her before storming away from the table.
“The lass is strong-headed,” Archer explained. “But she’ll come around.”
Emilie had to stop herself from interjecting. From what she had seen so far, her husband did not seem to have much interaction, if any, with his children.
She had not missed the way Louis had studied his father, clearly waiting to be acknowledged by the man who had sired him. And then, when Archer had turned away from him without so much as a word, Louis had seemed unsurprised.
Like the relationship that he had with his father was so cold, so distant, that he was used to constantly being ignored by the man.
And yet, here Archer was, talking about the children as if he knew them well.
It was all so confusing.
“Is that all ye’ll be expectin’ from me?” she asked hesitantly, terrified of what the answer might be. “To raise the bairns?”
Archer nodded. “I’ll be wantin’ nothin’ else from ye.”
Emilie’s eyes flicked to the bed of their own accord. Archer followed her line of sight and then snorted a sardonic laugh.
“I have nay plans of beddin’ ye,” he explained in an amused but gruff voice. “I already have me children. Me heir has been born. I have nay need for another, and I have nay need to bed ye outside of that, if that’s what ye’re worried about.”
Color flooded Emilie’s cheeks. It had been what she was worried about, but she had not expected him to be as blunt about it.
“All right then,” she said finally, giving Archer a quick, curt nod.
“Now, I’ll be gettin’ into bed,” Archer hiked a finger over his shoulder, indicating the four-poster directly behind him.
“I daenae care if ye join me. But if ye daenae, ye’ll have to sleep on the floor.
The staff will notice if ye start residin’ in another chamber, and I daenae want them whisperin’.
There are night clothes for ye in the armoire on the left. ”
He didn’t spare her another glance as he turned and walked to their bed. Emilie just stood there, hands at her side and her feet refusing to move.
I daenae want to sleep next to him.
Even though that wasn’t entirely the truth. She could picture it now, what it might be like to lie down beside him.
There was a draw to the idea, one that Emilie could not deny.
This is just the devil tryin’ to tempt me. But I willnae be led astray. I can remain strong in me faith, and pure in me thoughts.
Instead of allowing her mind to run amok, Emilie focused on the annulment. How on earth could she get Laird McGregor to request one?
Her mind toiled with this as she walked to the armoire that he indicated. When she pulled it open, there were a few sparse, simple shifts within it.
She grabbed one without giving it much consideration and busied herself with getting ready for bed. She left the door to the armoire open while she changed, using the door to block her body from the view of the bed.
All the while, her mind was still toiling, turning the possibility of an annulment over and over while she searched for a solution. But as Emilie walked toward the bed and pulled back the covers, she was no closer to finding one.
The bed was big. Much bigger than anything she had experienced at the abbey. And there was enough space that Archer was nowhere near her where she slept.
But they were still sharing the same blanket. And it was warm beneath it from all the heat his massive body let off.
Emilie had thought for certain that she would not be able to sleep. Had thought that she would be tossing and turning all night, despairing over how she would receive the annulment she so desperately desired.
But the warmth and the comfort of the bed—it all worked together to muddle her mind. And when she finally drifted off, dreams of the abbey and the friends she left behind rose up to greet her.
Emilie was confused when she woke up. The bed. The room. Everything around her was entirely unfamiliar. And it took several blinks of her eye to remember where she was.
Castle McGregor—where she was now the Lady. And, she shared the room that she was now in with her new husband.
Emilie rolled over, expecting to see said husband lying next to her. But the bed was empty.
The blankets had been thrown back, an indent in the downy mattress showing exactly where his body had been. But when Emilie reached out a hand, the spot was cool to the touch.
He must have left a while ago if I can nay longer feel his warmth.
She wasn’t sure why, but the thought sent a pang of something like regret shooting through her.
Archer had said last night that he didn’t want to bed her. And there was some part of Emilie that had been certain that it had been a lie to lull her into a false sense of security.
What type of man is content marrying a woman he has no intent of bedding?
But he’d been true to his word.
And I’m all the gladder for it.
Even as she thought the words, Emilie knew they weren’t quite true. And there was a bubble of shame that came with that realization.
She was resolute in keeping her vows. But it was proving more and more difficult not to imagine all the sins that she could be committing with her husband.
They wouldnae be sins though. Nae when ye’re married.
Emilie quickly banished that thought, knowing that this line of thinking was a dangerous road to walk down.
Throwing back her covers, Emilie stood. Her joints were stiff from staying in the same position all night. She began stretching them, sighing with relief as a bit of the tension started to leave her body.
“Me Lady.”
A high, feminine voice rang outside her chamber door at the same time someone knocked.
Emilie looked down at herself. She was still in the simple nightdress that she’d worn to sleep in. It wasn’t something she would entirely consider decent. But it wasn’t like she had anything else to change into.
“Come in,” she called out, and a split second later the door popped open.
A maid walked in, her arms extended in front of her as she stepped carefully into her room. Swaths of fabric were draped over them, and it took Emilie a moment of staring at them to realize that they were gowns.
“The Laird sent an order to have them made for ye before the weddin’,” the maid explained, giving Emilie a soft smile. “There’ll be more that are delivered later. They’ll be a bit more extravagant than these. But these will suit ye well for a little while at least.”
Emilie walked forward, multiple emotions warring within her. She didn’t know what to say.
Everything she had ever owned while at the abbey had been plain at best. Well crafted, but made of simple fabrics. There had been no frill or luxury to speak of.
Then, in the few days she was living with her parents, she’d been relegated to wearing her mother’s secondhand gowns. Aside from her wedding dress, which had been crafted just for her, the only thing Emilie had ever worn or owned had been the habit of a novice nun or her own mother’s castaways.
So, she did not know what to say about the beautiful, luxurious gowns that were being held out before her.
“Ye said these are the simpler gowns?” she asked.
Despite herself, Emilie reached forward, running her fingers over the beautiful fabric.
I shouldnae want this. I shouldnae be dreamin’ about slidin’ this over me body.
Emilie couldn’t help but think of the orphans she and the other nuns would help. The poor bairns would go hungry for days unless someone took pity on them. And yet, here she was, dressed in lavish fabrics.
A rush of shame flowed through her. The cost of such a gown would feed those bairns for weeks. Emilie tried to stamp down that thought. She wasn’t the one who spent the money, and the truth was, she didn’t have a choice but to wear what Archer prepared for her.
The dresses her mother had sent with her were ill-suited and not something that the Lady of the Clan should conceivably be wearing.
The maid began putting them away for her, and Emilie stepped up to help her.
“Me Lady?” the maid asked, giving her a glance of confusion. “Are ye tryin’ to help me?”
Emilie just blinked at the girl. “Am I supposed to just stand here and let ye do it when I’m perfectly capable? We can have it done in half the time.”
“But… ye’re the Lady,” the maid retorted. “Ladies daenae help. Nae like this.”
Emilie paused for a moment. Her entire life had been spent in servitude to others. It was second nature for her to help. It had been all she had ever known.
For her to just step back and let others do things for her, without ever actually offering to assist? It was not something that Emilie thought she could do.
“I’ll be helpin’ ye,” Emilie said, a little more sternly than she had intended. But she didn’t want the maid to argue back with her. “We’ll get it done faster this way.”
The maid blinked at her again, but eventually she nodded and turned back to her work.
Just as Emilie had said, they got it done much more quickly with the two of them side by side.
“Do ye ken which one ye’d like to wear today?” The maid asked, prompting Emilie to shake her head.
“I’ll want to look at them for a few moments,” Emilie advised, pointing toward the door the maid had just come through. “But I can dress meself. Thank ye, for yer help.”
The young woman looked like she wanted to protest further, but she did not. After a few moments’ pause, the girl simply bowed before turning on her heel and retreating toward the door.
Emilie stood in front of the armoire, staring at the gorgeous gowns that had just been brought in for her. It had been barely any time at all while she was residing within Castle McGregor.
And already, she was starting to go back on her vows. She was tempted by the luxury, tempted by the man that she was now married to. She was trying to rationalize going against them, going against the promises she held deep in her heart.
I must find a way out of this marriage.
Emilie leaned forward, finding the plainest of the gowns that had been brought to her. It was a cornsilk blue, almost the exact color of her eyes. The fabric was soft and luxurious, supple as she ran her fingertips across it.
But it had no frills and no patterns; the fit was a bit looser around the bust than the others. And it would be the only one that suited her needs.
She began dressing, panic welling up in her chest as she did so. More than a few times, her hands slipped as they fumbled with the buttons.
Emilie had to find a way out of her marriage. But how?
She ran through all the things she had learned about her husband thus far. He seemed aloof at best. Distant from his children. And was someone who seemed not to suffer fools lightly.
Then, it occurred to her.
Emilie knew that she was no fool. She was smart as a whip, someone who loved to learn and devoured books on every subject she possibly could.
But the Laird did not know that. And that was something she could use to her advantage.
Putting the final touch on her gown, she gave herself a small smile in the mirror before turning and striding from the room. It was going to be a busy day for her.
Because she had a marriage she had to annoy her way out of.