Chapter 17 #2
Her back felt unnaturally stiff as she moved back from the dining room, her hands clenched in the cool silk of her skirts.
She felt brittle, as if she could shatter into a thousand pieces with the slightest touch.
She thought about retiring to her chamber or retracing her way back to Alex’s room to wait, but she knew she had to do this now or she might not be able to do it at all.
She entered a small antechamber not far from the dining room.
They would have a measure of privacy, but the public nature of the room would keep her from falling apart. She’d already made a fool of herself.
She stood near the large stone fireplace, too anxious to sit, where she could see the steady stream of courtiers make their way from the dining room. She didn’t have to wait long.
“My laird,” she called to him as he passed by the open door.
At the sound of her voice, his head turned.
Their eyes met, and the sharp pain that had just begun to dull knifed through her again, cutting off her breath.
How could such beauty hide such treachery?
The face that had first attracted her had grown more impossibly handsome as she’d grown to love him.
Now with the mask lifted, she should see ugliness.
But all she could see was the man who’d made love to her and looked at her as if she were the most beautiful, important person in the world.
Her pain was so palpable, she wondered if he could feel it.
“Meg,” he said, taking a few steps into the room. “What are you doing here?”
She couldn’t do this. Despair rose inside her, threatening to erupt.
No. She shook off the hurt. He would never know how hard his betrayal had hit. She’d never told him of Ewen.
Lifting her chin, she looked him straight in the eye. “I wished to speak with you.” She waited for him to come closer. “Your noble sacrifice will not be necessary,” she said with a hard edge to her voice that was surely not her own.
He’d caught the sarcasm. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“Don’t you?” She arched a brow. “You see, I’ve reconsidered. I’m afraid I responded to your proposal too quickly last night. The answer is no. No, I will not marry you,” she repeated more firmly.
If she’d surprised him, he did not show it. But that was Alex, an impenetrable wall of granite. A warrior. A man who needed no one, least of all her.
His eyes bit into her with a hard blue intensity. “May I ask why? You’ll perhaps understand my confusion after last night.”
Her cheeks heated. “I’ve decided we would not suit after all.”
He stood looking at her, as if waiting for her to say more. Finally he asked, “You will not reconsider?”
She wanted him to argue with her. To tell her she was wrong. To tell her all those reasons why they should be married. Her chest squeezed. To tell her that he loved her. But he accepted her decision with heartbreaking stoicism.
She shook her head. “No,” she said softly, trying to mask the emotion shaking in her voice. Tears burned at the back of her throat. She couldn’t hold on much longer.
He seemed to sense it and moved toward the open door. He glanced back at her one time, holding her gaze for only a second. For a minute, she thought she saw a flash of regret. Of pain so raw that it mirrored her own. “Good-bye, Meg. I—” He stopped. “Good-bye.”
And then he was gone, leaving Meg feeling emptier and more alone than she ever had in her life.
Irony. Delicious at times, bitter at others.
For Alex, this moment fit squarely within the latter.
Just as he’d succeeded in driving her away forever, he realized just how deeply he loved her.
At the very instant he’d destroyed any chance of a future with Meg, he finally, ironically, put a name to the feelings that had eluded him for so long.
Unfortunately, it had taken her broken heart to knock the truth out of him.
The truth hit him squarely in the chest as he watched her face him with that vulnerable pride and strength that had always drawn him. His own feelings became painfully obvious when each anguished emotion that crossed her face was mirrored—no, exceeded—by the agony he suffered inside.
Her eyes impaled him, her heartbreak written plainly across her delicate features, silently begging him to explain that which could not be explained. Ignoring that silent plea, refusing her comfort, was pure torture.
His poisoned arrow had struck her in her most vulnerable, protected spot: her heart.
He knew how closely guarded she kept her emotions, hidden behind her confident, intelligent facade.
She’d allowed herself to open up to him, trusted him, and shared the precious gift of her innocence, only to have her heart trampled.
He’d never meant to hurt her. The grief and desolation that haunted her face as he’d left the room fell like a cat-o’-nine-tails lashed across his shoulders. It took every ounce of his resolve not to go to her.
Although the realization of his love came suddenly, Alex knew that it had been there, staring him in the face, for some time. Perhaps from the first; even then he’d sensed something different about Meg.
But now he’d had a chance to explore the depths of that initial attraction.
He loved her strange combination of serious and na?ve, her no-nonsense efficiency, her practical approach to problems. She exuded confidence and capability effortlessly.
He loved her compassion, her wry humor, her dedication to her friends and family.
In truth, he loved everything about her.
Alex was in love with Meg Mackinnon and there was not a damn thing he could do about it. His sudden epiphany, while personally painful, did not change anything. He would still sail for Lewis, would still fight the Fife Adventurers, would still put her life in danger if he involved her in his plans.
She would still be better off with Jamie.
Even if he could somehow repair the disaster that she’d just witnessed, it would not change their separate future. Letting her go, putting her happiness above his, was the most selfless thing he’d ever done.
He loved her, and she might even love him. But it wasn’t enough. If they were two people alone in the world, with nothing or no one else to consider, he would find her right now and beg her to forgive him for his lies, making love to her until she forgot everything else.
But they weren’t.
They each had people counting on them, depending on them. The only right, honorable thing for him to do was let her find her separate peace, fulfill her separate destiny. As he would fulfill his on Lewis.
Alex sighed, his breath pained. Anguish constricted his chest.
He just never thought he’d be forced to cut out his heart to save his lost soul.
Hours later, her tears at last extinguished, a soft knock on the door broke her reverie. “Meg, it’s me.” She recognized Jamie’s voice. “I know you’re in there. Please, I must speak with you.”
Jamie was the last person she wanted to see. Well, second to last. But she also owed him an explanation. Assuming she could find one. She rose from her seat by the window and straightened her skirts and hair, knowing there was nothing she could do to hide her tearstained cheeks and eyes.
Slowly, she opened the door. “Jamie,” she said in a much weaker voice than normal. “I’m surprised you’re here”—her eyes dropped to the floor self-consciously—“after last night.”
“We’re friends, Meg. Nothing has changed that. May I come in?”
She nodded, relieved that he hadn’t said anything about her appearance. “Of course, if you want to. But I’m afraid I’m not very good company right now.”
Jamie moved into the room and closed the door behind him. “I wouldn’t disturb you if it wasn’t important.”
She nodded and led him into the adjoining parlor, a room that she usually found pleasure in.
The neat orderliness was strangely calming.
She glanced at a section of books in the cupboard: Seneca, Shakespeare, Sidney, Sophocles, Spenser, every book alphabetized and aligned perfectly.
But she felt … nothing. Empty. She wondered if she would ever feel anything again.
There were two seating areas, one around a small fireplace and one near a small window.
A vase of white roses was perfectly centered on a small table in the center of the room, two enameled boxes placed in front equidistant from the vase.
She indicated for him to sit before the window, then took a seat next to him on the small bench.
Jamie took her hand in his, surprising her. Deeply embarrassed, she dropped her gaze to her lap.
“I need to apologize for what happened last night,” he began.
Her head jerked up, and her eyes widened. “What are you talking about? If anyone should apologize, it’s me. I feel horrible.”
He shook his head. “Please, let me explain. I had no right to barge into Alex’s room. I was angry and worried about you. I regret that I forced the very thing that I’d hoped to prevent.”
His kindness only made her feel worse. She’d treated him badly, and he’d been nothing but a friend to her. “Jamie, I’m so sorry—”
He squeezed her hand, cutting off her reply. “I’d be honored if you would consent to be my wife.”
Her mouth dropped open. “You must be joking.”
He bristled at her astonishment. “I’m quite serious. I would never jest about something so important.”
“But, Jamie,” she started, still aghast. “After what you witnessed, surely you can’t want to marry me.”
“I care for you very much, Meg. We share many of the same interests, we think alike.” He smiled at her. “It is a good match, our families would approve. And nothing Alex MacLeod does can change that.”
Meg couldn’t believe it. She’d never dreamed that Jamie would still want to marry her. He was offering her the ability to salvage everything she’d worked for.
She studied his face, searching. “But do you love me?” she asked quietly.
“Of course I love you. I love you as much as I love my sister—”
“That’s just it,” she interrupted, a crooked smile on her lips. “Don’t you see? I’m not your sister. Are you in love with me?”
A flush stained his cheeks. “Of course I’m in love with you, whatever ‘in love’ means.”
“If you have to ask, you are not in love with me.”
Jamie raked his fingers through his hair.
“Meg, why is this so important? Our positions dictate that we marry where our duty lies. You have a duty to your father”—she flinched at the blunt reminder—“to marry. A marriage tie with the Campbells is just what your clan needs. I can help Ian. I can protect your clan. I want you to have a choice. You don’t need to marry Alex MacLeod. He’s not what you think.”
No, he wasn’t. “I’m not marrying Alex.”
Jamie looked taken aback. “But I thought—”
“I changed my mind.”
“Good, then marry me.”
“You don’t have to sacrifice yourself, Jamie. I don’t blame you for anything. I knew what I was doing.”
“I assure you, Meg,” he said stiffly, “marrying you would not be a sacrifice.”
She reached for his hand. “Don’t be angry. I meant no offense. You are a good friend, Jamie. You must think me terribly ungracious. To ask me to marry you after what you saw … Well, not many men would do that.”
“Now is not the right time.” He bent down and pressed a gentle kiss on the top of her head.
“Don’t decide right now. I’m confident that when you’ve had time to think over my offer, you will realize that it is indeed for the best.” He cupped her chin with his fingers, forcing her to meet his gaze. “I do love you. I will make you happy.”
Her eyes misted. She nodded, seeming to reach a decision. “You are truly a good friend, I don’t deserve you. I must return to Dunakin. Perhaps on Skye things will seem more clear.”
“Very well, then. Talk it over with your father. You will see that what I’m proposing is best, when you are away from here.”
She knew what he meant. Away from Alex MacLeod.