Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
David stood outside Elinor’s door longer than he meant to.
He had faced armies with less hesitation than this. Had ordered men to their deaths without his hands shaking. But this—this required something else entirely.
He replayed the last days over and over in his mind: her silence, the way her eyes had dulled, the way she had stopped reaching for him. And worse—the realization that he had done it to her himself.
Protection had turned into a cage. Fear into control.
He pressed his palm briefly to the stone wall, closing his eyes. His uncle’s voice echoed where it always did when he felt cornered. When he felt like the world would take everything if he loosened his grip.
Not her, he thought fiercely. I will not become that man.
He had spent the night awake, planning defenses, patrols, contingencies—anything but this. But in the end, there was only one thing that mattered.
An apology meant nothing if it didn’t come with change.
He straightened, drew a steadying breath, and talked to her maid in the corridor.
“It’s morning already?”
Elinor woke to an empty bed again.
She'd barely slept, her mind replaying the argument over and over. Wondering if she'd been too harsh. Too demanding. If she'd pushed him too far.
But no. She'd been right to confront him. Right to demand better. Even if it meant losing him completely.
A soft knock at the door made her sit up. "Come in."
Ainsley entered with a breakfast tray, her expression carefully neutral. "Good mornin', me lady."
"Good morning." Elinor's voice was rough from crying. "Is the laird out on patrol?"
"He's waitin' fer ye in the corridor." Ainsley set down the tray. "Asked me tae tell ye he'd like tae speak with ye. When ye're ready."
Elinor's heart stuttered. "He's here?"
"Aye, me lady. Been waitin' fer nearly an hour."
David had been standing outside their bedchamber for an hour, waiting for her to wake.
That had to mean something. Didn't it?
"Tell him… " Elinor threw back the covers. "Tell him I'll be ready in ten minutes."
She dressed quickly, her fingers fumbling with laces. Chose a simple gown, nothing too formal. Splashed water on her face to hide the evidence of crying.
When she opened the door, David was leaning against the opposite wall, his arms crossed over his chest. He looked terrible—shadows under his eyes, his jaw rough with stubble, his clothes rumpled like he'd slept in them.
If he'd slept at all.
"Elinor." Her name came out rough. "Thank ye fer agreeing to see me."
"You're my husband. I can hardly refuse to see you."
He flinched at her tone. "Aye. Well. I wanted tae apologize. Fer yesterday. Fer—" He gestured vaguely. "Fer everythin', really."
Elinor crossed her arms, mirroring his defensive posture. "I'm listening."
"I didnae mean fer things tae become this way." He pushed off the wall, his movements restless. "I was tryin' tae protect ye. Tryin' tae make sure naethin' like the attack could happen again. But I went too far. I ken that now."
"Do you?"
"Aye." He met her eyes. "Ye were right. About all of it. I was shuttin' ye out. Treatin' ye like property tae protect instead of a person. A partner." He swallowed hard. "I'm sorry."
The apology sounded genuine. Painful, even, like each word cost him something.
But Elinor had heard apologies before. Her father had apologized too, on the rare occasions when his temper got the better of him. The words never meant anything.
"Sorry isn't enough," she said quietly.
"I ken that too." David took a breath. "Which is why I want tae show ye somethin'. If ye'll come with me?"
Elinor hesitated. Part of her wanted to refuse. To make him work harder. To punish him for the past week of isolation and silence.
But another part, the part that had fallen for him despite her best efforts, wanted to give him a chance.
"Alright," she said. "Show me."
Relief flickered across his face. He gestured down the corridor. "This way."
They walked in silence, the early morning quiet broken only by their footsteps. Elinor tried to figure out where they were going, but David led her down corridors she didn't recognize, deeper into the castle.
Finally, he stopped at a door she'd never noticed before. His hand rested on the latch, and she saw it trembling slightly.
"I had this prepared fer ye," he said. "Before everythin' went wrong. It was meant tae be a surprise."
He opened the door.
Elinor stepped inside and stopped breathing.
The room was beautiful. Larger than she'd expected, with windows that looked out over the gardens. A fire burned in the hearth, making everything warm and welcoming.
But it was what filled the room that made her throat tighten.
Canvases. Easels. Paints in every color imaginable, arranged on a long table. Brushes of different sizes in ceramic pots. Charcoal and chalk and everything an artist could want.
Books. Shelves and shelves of them. She moved closer, reading spines. Books on healing. On gardening. On music and art and philosophy. On history and poetry and dozens of other subjects.
A harp stood in one corner, its wood gleaming in the firelight.
A writing desk sat near the window, supplied with paper and ink and quills.
And in the center of the room, a comfortable settle with soft cushions and warm blankets.
"What is this?" she whispered.
"It's yers." David's voice came from behind her. "Ye told me once that ye wanted tae figure out what ye wanted tae dae. What interested ye. So I had this prepared. Supplies fer anythin' ye might want tae try. Space tae explore whatever calls tae ye."
Elinor turned to face him. "When did you do this?"
"I started right after our conversation.
Had servants bringin' things in while ye were busy with the Cèilidh preparations.
" His smile was tentative. "I wanted tae surprise ye.
Tae show ye that I meant what I said about givin' ye freedom.
But then the attack happened and I forgot about it. Until yesterday."
"Until I told you I felt like a prisoner."
"Aye." He moved into the room, his hands in his pockets.
"I ken this daesnae fix what I did wrong.
Givin' ye things isnae the same as actually trustin' ye or includin' ye in decisions.
But I wanted ye tae see—I wanted ye tae ken that I was tryin'.
Even before yesterday. I was tryin' tae give ye what ye needed. "
Elinor looked around the room again. At the care that had gone into selecting everything. At the thought behind each choice.
"This is—" Her throat was tight. "This is incredibly thoughtful."
"But?"
"But it doesn't change what happened." She forced herself to meet his eyes. "I spent the past week feeling trapped and alone. Feeling like you saw me as a burden rather than a partner. And while this room is beautiful and generous and everything I could have wanted, it doesn't erase that."
David's expression crumpled slightly. "I ken that."
"Then why show it to me now? Why not when you first finished it? Why wait until after we'd fought?"
"Because I'm a fool." He moved closer, his eyes intense.
"Because I let fear control me. Because when I saw that blade at yer throat, somethin' in me broke.
And instead of talkin' tae ye about it, instead of lettin' ye help me through it—I shut down.
Built walls. Did exactly what Euan said I always dae when I'm scared. "
"Why?" The question came out softer than she'd intended. "Why dae you shut down like that?"
David was quiet for a long moment. Then he moved to the settle, sinking onto it like his legs wouldn't hold him anymore.
"Me uncle," he said finally. "After me faither died, me uncle became regent.
He was supposed tae guide me until I was old enough ae take over as laird.
" His voice was flat, emotionless. "But he didnae want tae guide.
He wanted tae control. And when me maither tried tae stand up tae him, when she tried to protect me from his worst impulses, he sent her away. "
Elinor's breath caught. "Sent her away?"
"Exiled her. Said she was unfit to raise the heir.
That she was too soft. Too English." His hands curled into fists on his knees.
"I was twelve. And I watched her beg him tae let her stay.
Watched her promise she'd dae anythin'. And he just…
he laughed. Had guards dragged her out while I stood there and did naethin'. "
"David." Elinor moved to sit beside him, her anger forgotten in the face of his pain. "You were a child."
"I should have done somethin'. Fought harder. Refused tae let them take her." His voice was rough. "But I was afraid. Of me uncle. Of what he might dae if I resisted. So I let her go. And I never saw her again."
"Never?"
"She died three years later. Some illness.
By the time word reached me, she'd already been buried.
" He stared at his hands. "And I realized, I'd let fear control me.
Let me uncle win because I was too afraid tae fight back.
And I swore I'd never let that happen again.
Never let anyone control me through fear. "
Understanding crashed over Elinor like a wave. "That's why you defied the king. Why you bought me at the auction instead of marrying whoever he'd chosen."
"Aye. And it's why I shut down after the attack.
" He finally looked at her, and she saw the rawness in his eyes.
"Because I was afraid again. Afraid of losin' ye the way I lost her.
And instead of dealin' with that fear, instead of trustin' ye tae help me through it, I pushed everyone away. Built walls. Saw enemies everywhere."
"Like you did after your mother left."
"Aye." The word was barely audible. "Euan tried tae tell me. Said I was daein' it again. But I didnae want tae listen. Didnae want tae admit that I he was right."
Elinor's chest ached. For the boy who'd lost his mother. For the man who'd never forgiven himself for not fighting harder to keep her.