CHAPTER 9 #2
He grabbed his shirt from the floor, pulled it over his head as he crossed the room in three long strides, and took off after her down the stairs. “You are the one who wanted to be married to me in the first place. Ye can’t deny it.”
“Just stay away from me,” she shouted back. “Or I swear, I’ll stick a dirk in ye.”
“You planned the whole thing because ye wanted to be away from your step-da,” he bellowed, as he followed her through the hall and into the kitchen. “And I wasn’t supposed to have any say over it, was I? Everyone would get what they wanted—but me.”
They were in the kitchen now, with the worktable between them. When he reached around the side to get a hold of her nightshift, she grabbed a skillet from the table and swung it at his head.
“Now that I want ye to be a true wife, ye change your mind,” he shouted. “Just what did ye think you were getting into? Did ye no expect a husband to want ye in his bed?”
“Perhaps I did expect it—a year ago. Or a month ago,” she shouted back. “Or a few days ago, when ye finally decided to bless us with your presence.”
“I am prepared to be your husband now,” Ian said, gritting his teeth.
“Oh, thank ye.” She rolled her eyes and patted her chest. “My heart is all aflutter over it.”
“You picked me, and like it or no, I am your husband,” he said. “And I don’t want to ever again hear my wife talking about other men and what they’d do if ye offered.”
That was when she caught him on the side of the head with the skillet.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, ye hit me!” He doubled over holding his head. It hurt like hell.
Sìleas looked as shocked by what she’d done as he was. He decided that if she were in a forgiving mood, so was he.
“Come, lass, this is no way to start our married life.”
“No, it isn’t,” she said in a shaky voice.
He noticed that she had a kitchen knife in her other hand now and reached for it. “Put the blade down, Sìl, and come to bed.”
That was when she hit him the second time.
He woke up on the floor with Sìleas standing over him, the kitchen blade still in her hand. Judging from the fire in her eyes, she was debating just where to stick it into him.
“I think you’re safe from the beast without having to use my best kitchen knife on him.”
At the sound of his mother’s voice, Ian risked taking his eyes off Sìleas long enough to see his mother standing in the doorway in her nightshift and cap. Her long, black and gray braid hung over her shoulder, and her hands were planted on her hips.
Ian rolled out of the way as the knife fell from Sìleas’s hand, and it clattered to the floor where he had been lying. Sìleas opened her mouth as if she were trying to form a reply to his mother, then she clamped her hand over her mouth and ran from the room.
“Thanks, mam,” Ian said as he got to his feet. He shook his head, trying to get his bearings and make sense of what just happened. One minute, he was kissing Sìleas in bed, and the next she was trying to kill him.
“And just what did ye think ye were doing?” his mother asked.
“Me?” he asked, thumping his chest. “Sìleas was the one attempting to murder me in your kitchen.”
“Ach, even half drunk as ye are, I expect ye could get away from a wee lass like Sìleas.” His mother waved a dismissive hand. “Now, are ye going to tell me how it is that sweet lass was chasing ye around the kitchen with a knife?”
“This is no something I’m going to discuss with my mother.” He picked the knife and skillet up from the floor and banged them on the table.
Niall appeared in the doorway behind his mother. “What’s he done to Sìleas? If he’s hurt her, I’ll kill him.”
Ian sighed and picked up the skillet again, in case he needed to defend himself.
“This is none of your business,” his mother said in a sharp voice. “Go back to bed. I’ll deal with Ian.”
Niall stood clenching his fists and glaring at Ian for a long moment before he obeyed his mother. When the door finally closed behind Niall, Ian set the skillet down. It was all so ridiculous, that a smile tugged at his lips. “Ye will deal with me, will ye, mam? Aren’t I a wee bit big for that?”
“I have some advice to give ye,” she said, “and you’d best listen if ye don’t want to lose your wife.”
Heaving a sigh, Ian followed his mother into the hall and took a seat by the hearth. His head still pounded from the skillet. The lass had a good arm.
“You’ve hardly spoken to Sìleas since ye came home, and then ye go to her room demanding rights as a husband,” his mother said, shaking her head.
“Mam, can you no respect my privacy? This is between Sìleas and me.”
His mother waved her hand again. “What did ye do, jump on the poor lass?”
“No, mam. I didn’t jump on her,” Ian said, keeping his voice calm with effort. “But she is my wife.”
“What kind of fool did I raise?” his mother said, tilting her head up as if beseeching Heaven.
“Ye made me marry her, and now ye are telling me I cannot act like a husband?”
“Ye know verra well that there are all kinds of marriages,” his mother said, pointing her finger at him. “If ye want a happy one, you’ll take my advice.”
He thought of Alex’s parents, who had been warring for as long as he’d known them. “All right, mam. Tell me what ye think I ought to do.”
“Ye broke her heart and hurt her pride,” his mother said. “So now ye must seek her forgiveness and earn her trust.”
“And how am I to do that?”
“Talk with her, spend time with her,” his mother said. “Make her see that ye value her.”
“I do value her,” he said.
“I’m no sure she understood that when ye burst into her bedchamber in the middle of the night demanding your rights.”
“I told ye, it wasn’t like that.”
“Sìleas knows ye were forced to wed her,” his mother said, leaning forward. “So what ye must do is convince her that if ye could have any woman in the world, she is the one you’d choose.”
He still wanted Sìl after she hit him in the head with a skillet—twice. Surely, that counted for something.
But would he choose Sìleas above any other woman? A week ago, he would not have believed it possible. Now, he wasn’t so sure.
“Sìleas had a father who thought more of his dogs than he did of his daughter, and then she got a step-da who was worse,” his mother said. “The lass needs a man who sees her worth and loves her. She deserves that. If you can’t give her that, then perhaps ye should step aside.”
Ian had always been fond of Sìleas. But he knew his mother was talking about something more than fondness. She was talking about what she and his father had.
His mother stood up and took his face in her hands. “I planned on the two of ye marrying long before that day your da and uncle caught ye sleeping in the woods with her.”
Ian raised his eyebrows. “Perhaps ye should have told me.”
“It would have done no good,” she said, and kissed his forehead. “Ye and Sìleas were made for each other. Just don’t ruin it by doing something else foolish.”