Chapter 3 #2
Once they crossed the moat into the courtyard, she could see that the grounds were well-kept. A large wooden door stood guard at the front. Caden had no trouble opening it with his foot while still holding her steady.
Ava had never given thought to being carried over a threshold after a wedding, but she never would have imagined it with a broken ankle.
The foyer boasted tapestries covering the walls, statues on tables, suits of armor standing guard with weapons, and sprawling, colorful rugs on the floor.
A large tapestry of the family crest and tartan hung from the wall above a large fireplace that had three chairs in front of it.
The space was oddly cozy for how large it was.
“Welcome to yer new home.” Caden looked down at her, his expression impossible to read.
After lowering her gently into an overstuffed chair by the fire, he kneeled to examine her ankle. Her breath caught at his touch. This was somehow different than holding her hand while dancing, or even during the handfasting. More intimate. She was suddenly very aware of their position.
He looked up at her. “Does that hurt?”
Ava slowly shook her head. She tried to get a better view of his hidden features, but the mask obstructed her view completely.
Finlay burst through the door. “Ava!”
She sat bolt upright, startled by the intrusion. The sudden movement sent searing pain through her ankle.
“Ach, it’s ye…” She relaxed back into the chair. Caden’s delicate touch distracted her from the pain once again.
“It isnae broken, but dislocated. I’ll have to replace it,” Caden declared.
“What—?” Ava barely had time to finish the question before a louder pop sounded, followed by the worst pain she had ever experienced.
“What the bloody hell?!” she yelled.
“If I counted, it would have been worse,” Caden drawled.
“Oh…”
He gently squeezed her ankle to ensure it was back in place. The relief was practically immediate.
“Thank ye,” she said, studying the way his hands felt on her naked skin.
He bowed his head, then stood beside her chair. His large arm rested on the back of the seat. She was sure they looked like a portrait of a proud laird and lady.
“Thank God, ye’re all right.” Finlay rushed to her side.
“Now ye care about what happens to me?”
She brushed him away with a wave of her hand.
His face contorted with hurt. “Ava, I—”
“Ye should have told me somethin’ before I walked down the aisle, ye ken?”
Finlay’s mouth dropped open like a fish.
“Anything would have been better than simply passing me on to the next groom,” Ava added through gritted teeth, finally letting some of her own hurt show. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him wince.
“I ken. Ye have every right to be mad. I just… I couldnae do it.” Finlay hung his head. “Believe me, it’s better for both of us this way.”
“Ye hurt me,” she said to the fire.
“Ava, I—” Finlay tried again.
“Me wife said that ye hurt her. Apologize now, Braither,” Caden ordered, with the air of a laird who always got what he wanted.
Ava still refused to look at Finlay.
He let out an exasperated sigh. “I’m sorry, Ava.”
It was not enough. It never would be.
“Apology nae accepted. Ye may go,” Ava replied, still looking at the fire.
“Ava—” Finlay stepped toward her.
“She said go, Braither,” Caden growled, stopping him in his tracks.
“Aye, me Laird. Me Lady, I bid ye goodnight. I hope we can speak about this soon like civilized people.”
Before Ava knew it, Caden had crossed the foyer. She turned her head to see that he had fisted his hand in his brother’s shirt, their faces inches from each other.
“Listen here, ye coward.”
Her eyes went wide in disbelief. She prayed her husband would never use that deadly tone with her.
“Ye willnae speak to her that way ever again. She is yer mistress, yer Lady, and ye will treat her as such. Understood?”
Finlay nodded.
Caden tossed him aside. “Now, go. Me wife needs rest.”
Caden walked back to Ava as Finlay walked out, and plopped down into the seat across from her.
“I thought I was marrying a mature woman.”
“Excuse me?” Ava scoffed.
“Nae speaking about yer problems willnae do when ye’re a lady raising a bairn and running a house, let alone a whole clan.”
“If ye really felt that way, ye sure have a funny way of showing it.”
“Lass, I did just rescue ye from the man who betrayed ye. Against me better judgment. Daenae push yer luck.” Caden slouched in his seat.
Ava rolled her eyes. “I daenae need rescuing, me Laird. Thank ye for yer chivalry anyway, but I can handle meself.”
The fire popped louder, as if spurred on by their conversation.
“Sure, ye can. Ye just dislocated yer ankle and couldnae tell me fool of a braither exactly why ye daenae wish to speak.” Caden picked at his kilt, seemingly uninterested.
“Again, ye are mistaken. I daenae need yer intervention, Caden. I can do just fine on me own.” She sat up straighter in her chair.
“Nay, ye cannae. If ye did ye wouldnae be needing a marriage of convenience with me brother of all people.” He pursed his lips.
“I beg yer pardon?” Ava wanted to slap him as well.
Where do these men get the nerve?
“Listen, I’ve got a proposition for ye.” Caden rested his elbows on his knees. His legs were the size of tree trunks. Ava tried not to notice. “We can have the same marriage ye’d have with me brother.”
“We were going to have a white marriage,” she replied, eyeing him suspiciously.
“Och. Well, that willnae be happening. But the rest of it can be pretty much the same. We will lead different lives.”
Trying really hard not to imagine what a non-white marriage to Caden would be like, she focused on a question she had not dared to ask. Why had Caden agreed to take Finlay’s place to begin with? Surely he would not marry just to do right by her.
“What’s the catch?” she asked finally.
“Ye must raise me nephew as yer own.”