Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
David stared at the map spread across his desk, his eyes tracking the potential entry points into Keppoch's walls. He'd been awake all night, going over defenses, questioning guards, reviewing patrol routes.
"David."
He looked up to find Euan standing in the doorway, leaning heavily on his walking stick. His friend's face was drawn with concern.
"Ye should be restin'," David said, returning his attention to the map. "It's early yet."
"It's past dawn." Euan limped into the room, closing the door behind him. "And ye look like hell."
"I'm fine."
"Ye're nae fine. Ye havenae slept."
"I had work tae dae."
"Work." Euan moved closer, his eyes scanning the maps and papers scattered across the desk. "Or broodin’?"
"I'm nae broodin'. I'm plannin'." David marked another spot on the map. "The east wall needs reinforcement. And we should add another guard rotation at—"
"David." Euan's hand came down on the map, forcing David to look up. "Stop."
"I'm busy."
"Ye're shuttin' down." Euan's voice was quiet but firm. "I've seen ye like this before. When yer uncle––"
"Dinnae." The word came out sharp. "Dinnae talk about him."
"Someone needs tae." Euan pulled out a chair and sat, his bad leg stretched out before him. "Because ye're daein' it again. Seein' enemies everywhere. Barricadin' yerself behind walls and guards and plans. Pushin' everyone away."
"There are enemies everywhere." David's jaw tightened. "Or did ye miss the part where five of Langley's men infiltrated me castle?"
"I didnae miss it. But there's a difference between bein' cautious and bein' paranoid."
"I'm nae paranoid. I'm realistic."
"Ye're afraid." Euan's voice was gentle. "And I understand that. What happened yesterday was terrifyin’. But ye cannae let fear control ye."
"I'm nae afraid." But even as he said it, David knew it was a lie. He was afraid. Terrified, actually. Of what might have happened if he'd been a second slower. If his aim had been off.
He shoved the thought away.
"Ye are," Euan said quietly. "And there's nay shame in that. She's yer wife. Ye care about her. Of course ye're afraid of losin' her."
"I dinnae—" David stopped. Started again. "This isnae about carin'. It's about responsibility. She's under me protection. It's me duty tae keep her safe."
"Is that all it is?" Euan's eyes were knowing. "Duty?"
David didn't answer. Couldn't answer.
Because no, it wasn't just duty. Somewhere between the auction and their kiss, Elinor had stopped being a problem to solve or a bride to protect. She'd become something more.
Something that scared him even more than Langley's assassins.
"Ye're daein' it again," Euan said. "Shuttin' down. Pullin' away. Buildin' walls between ye and everyone else."
"That's nae what I'm daein'."
"It's exactly what ye're daein'. It's what ye did after yer uncle exiled yer maither.
After ye lost her." Euan's voice was heavy with old pain.
"Ye closed yerself off. Stopped trustin'.
Saw threats in every shadow. It took years fer ye tae come back from that, David. And I'll nae watch ye dae it again."
"This is different."
"Is it? Because from where I'm sittin', it looks exactly the same." Euan gestured toward the papers on the desk. "Ye're obsessin' over security. Barkin' orders at yer guards."
"Leave it, Euan."
"Nay. Because someone needs tae tell ye the truth." Euan leaned forward. "Ye can build all the walls ye want. Post all the guards. Lock down the entire castle. But none of that will matter if ye lose her in the process."
"I'm nae losin' her. I'm keepin' her safe."
"Safe and alone are nae the same thing." Euan's voice was gentle. "And if ye keep goin' down this path, ye'll wake up one day and realize ye've pushed away the one person who could actually help ye carry this burden."
David wanted to argue. Wanted to tell Euan he was wrong. That this was different. That he knew what he was doing.
But the words wouldn't come.
Because maybe Euan was right.
Maybe he was shutting down. Seeing threats everywhere. Building walls that would keep Elinor out as effectively as they kept danger away.
Euan stood, wincing as his leg protested. "Stop tryin' tae handle everythin' alone. Ye've got friends. Family. People who want tae help. Let them."
"And if that's nae enough? If Langley comes anyway?"
"Then we fight." Euan's smile was grim. "Taegether. Like we always have."
He left, his walking stick tapping against the stone floor. David remained at his desk, staring at the map without really seeing it.
Shuttin' down. Seein' enemies everywhere.
Was that what he was doing?
He thought about the previous night. About Elinor in his arms, kissing him like she meant it.
And then about how he'd left her alone to deal with his friends. How he'd spent all night obsessing over security instead of going back to her. How he'd been avoiding her this morning because he didn't know what to say.
Maybe he was beginning to push her away.
But he didn't know how to stop.
The breakfast table was unusually quiet.
Elinor sat at the high table, picking at her food while the Covenant brothers ate and made sporadic attempts at conversation.
But the usual warmth and camaraderie was absent. Everyone kept glancing at David, who sat at the head of the table looking like he hadn't slept in days.
Elinor had woken alone in their bed, the sheets on David's side cold. When she'd asked Ainsley where he was, the maid had said he'd been in his study all night.
Working on security, apparently.
Not sleeping. Not resting. Not coming back to their bed after what had happened between them.
"More bread, me lady?" Calum offered the basket with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
"No, thank you." Elinor glanced at David again. He was staring at his plate, barely eating, his jaw tight with tension.
She wanted to ask if he was alright. Wanted to reach across the table and touch his hand, make him look at her.
But something in his posture warned her off. Something closed and distant that made her think he wouldn't welcome the intrusion.
"So," Lachlann said with forced cheer. "That was quite a celebration."
"Aye," Archibald agreed. "Very... eventful."
An uncomfortable silence fell. Everyone remembering the attack. The arrow. The man with the knife at Elinor's throat.
"We should be goin' soon," Euan said finally, breaking the silence. "Long ride back tae MacLeod lands."
"Of course." Elinor found her voice. "Thank you for coming. For—" She stopped, not sure how to finish. For saving her? For being there when David had needed help?
"Nay thanks needed, me lady." Euan's smile was kind. "We're family. That's what family daes."
David said nothing. Just continued staring at his plate, his knuckles white where he gripped his knife.
Elinor's chest tightened. Something was wrong. Very wrong.
"David?" she tried carefully. "Are you alright?"
"Fine." He stood abruptly, his chair scraping against stone. "I need tae check on the guard rotations. Excuse me."
He left without looking at her. Without acknowledging anyone else at the table.
The silence that followed was deafening.
"He's—" Calum started.
"Worryin' himself sick," Euan finished. "And shuttin' everyone out in the process."
"Is he always like this?" Elinor asked quietly. "When something goes wrong?"
The four men exchanged looks.
"Sometimes," Euan said carefully. "When he's afraid. When he feels responsible fer somethin' bad happenin'. He tends tae… withdraw."
"Build walls," Archibald added.
"Push people away," Lachlann said.
"Even when they're tryin' tae help," Calum finished.
Elinor absorbed the information, her mind churning. David was afraid. Of course he was afraid, someone had tried to kidnap her. Had almost succeeded.
But instead of talking to her about it, instead of letting her help, he was pulling away.
Yet, he'd defended her. Protected her. Given her freedoms she'd never had.
His fear making him irrational. Making him see threats everywhere and trust no one.
Even her.
"Give him time," Euan said, as though reading her thoughts. "He'll come around. He just needs tae process."
"Process what?"
"That he nearly lost ye." Euan's expression was serious. "And that he cares about ye more than he's ready tae admit."
The words hit her like a physical blow.
Cares about ye.
Did he? Or was it still just duty? Responsibility? The obligation of a husband to protect his wife?
She didn't know. Couldn't know. Not when he wouldn't talk to her.
The Covenant brothers left after breakfast, each of them offering Elinor words of encouragement and promises to return soon. She stood in the courtyard and watched them ride out, feeling more alone than she had since arriving at Keppoch.
David was nowhere to be seen.
The days that followed were some of the loneliest Elinor had experienced since her marriage.
David was everywhere and nowhere. She'd see him in the courtyard, directing guards. In the great hall, speaking with his Council. On the battlements, surveying the walls.
But never in their bedchamber when she retired for the night.
Never at breakfast when she woke.
Never anywhere she could actually talk to him.
It was like living with a ghost. She could sense his presence—the servants did as he asked, the guards followed his commands, the entire castle moved to the rhythm of his heightened security measures.
But she never saw him. Never spoke to him.
Never touched him.
The rules she'd demanded seemed laughable now. No touching in private. No kissing unless necessary.
She'd give anything to have him break those rules again. To have him look at her the way he had before the attack. To have him kiss her the way he had in their bedchamber.
But he was gone. Distant. Locked behind walls she couldn't breach.
On the third day, Elinor tried to leave the castle to visit the village. The guards stopped her.
"I'm sorry, me lady," the captain said, his expression apologetic. "The laird's orders. Nay one leaves the castle without his express permission."
"I'm his wife."
"Aye, me lady. Which is why his orders about ye are especially strict."
Elinor wanted to argue. Wanted to demand they let her pass. But she could see the determination in the guard's eyes. The loyalty to David that overrode any discomfort about refusing her.
She was trapped. Again.
Just like in her father's house. Locked in by a man who claimed it was for her own good. For her protection.
Except this time, she couldn't even be angry about it. Because she knew David was acting out of fear, not cruelty. Out of a desperate need to keep her safe, not a desire to control her.
But knowing that didn't make it any easier.
She retreated to the solar Malcolm had prepared for her, the room David had given her as part of her favor. It was beautiful. Comfortable. Filled with things to occupy her time.
But it felt like a cage all the same.
Ainsley visited regularly, bringing food and gossip and companionship. But even the maid seemed subdued, aware of the tension blanketing the castle.
"The laird's just worried, me lady," she said on the fourth day, setting down a tray of tea. "He'll come around."
"Will he?" Elinor stared out the window at the courtyard below. She could see David there, speaking with his guards. Even from that distance, she could see the tension in his shoulders. "Or will he just keep shutting me out until there's nothing left between us?"
"He cares about ye, me lady. Anyone can see that."
"Caring isn't enough." Elinor's voice was quiet. "Not if he won't let me in."
That night, David finally returned to their bedchamber.
Elinor was already in bed, pretending to be asleep. She heard the door open, heard his soft footsteps as he crossed to the washstand. Heard the rustle of fabric as he undressed.
She waited for him to climb into bed. To settle beside her like he had before.
But he didn't.
Through barely-open eyes, she watched him move to the chair by the fire. Watched him sit, still fully dressed in his shirt and trews. Watched him lean his head back and close his eyes.
He was going to sleep in the chair.
Rather than risk disturbing her. Rather than risk touching her. Rather than being close to her.
Elinor's throat tightened. She wanted to say something. Wanted to call out to him, demand he get into bed, force him to talk to her.
But she didn't.
Because she could see the exhaustion written on his face. The fear and guilt and responsibility weighing him down.
And she didn't know how to help him carry it.
So she lay in their bed, alone, and listened to her husband's breathing from across the room.
And tried very hard not to cry.
Because that—that distance, that silence, that careful avoidance—was worse than anything her father had ever done to her. Her father had controlled her through cruelty. Through deliberate abuse and neglect.
But David seemed to care about her and she cared about him, although they didn’t know how to reach other, and that hurt more.
David was overprotecting her with walls built so high she couldn't climb them.