Chapter 14
“Where are we going?” Cassandra laughed, as Ewan pulled back another branch that was blocking their path. They were somewhere in the woods behind the castle, on an overgrown path that looked as if it had been formed by animals rather than humans.
The trees also desperately needed to be trimmed back. She felt as if she were going deep into the dark, dangerous woods in some kind of fairytale, rather than toward whatever surprise Ewan had planned.
But she was happy to go along with him.
She liked an adventure, and so far, most of her walking throughout the Highlands had taken her into wide open valleys and hills, rather than into the woods.
“It is just a little bit farther,” Ewan grunted from ahead of her. “I apologize, I did not realize the path would be so rough.”
He stopped and waited for her, and she caught up with him quickly. As usual, he seemed too large to belong, a giant among the trees. But it reassured her. If there were any dangerous animals lurking here in the woods, she was sure they would be as scared of Ewan as she was of them.
As if reading her mind, Ewan said, “It is not as though there are bears in the Highlands. You have nothing to fear here.”
“What about brigands?” she asked, and he laughed.
“They know better than to stray onto my lands.”
The way he said it stirred something in her chest. He sounded so sure, as if anyone would be a fool indeed to cross him.
They continued down the path, until they reached a large log that had fallen in the middle of it.
He offered her his hand to help her over, and she took it.
Her skin heated and the warmth rose moved through her body; she could not look at him until he released her hand and they continued down the path.
She hoped that he had not seen the blush on her cheeks.
Certainly he could not hear the pounding of her heart, which sounded louder than ever to her, in the deep silence of the woods.
“Ahh, here we are,” Ewan announced after another minute, and then they stepped off of the path and into a large clearing of wildflowers.
Cassandra stepped forward and looked around. It was beautiful and peaceful, full of daisies and wild heather. Right in the center was a hawthorn tree.
She turned back to Ewan, who was watching her carefully.
“It is beautiful,” she said, “although I am still not sure I understand why you brought me here.”
“It is for you,” he said, spreading his arms wide to indicate the clearing. “For you to create the herb garden that you once had at your home in Cornwall.”
Cassandra stared at him. It took her a full thirty seconds at least to understand what he was talking about. Meanwhile, his expression became more uncertain, and he dropped his arms.
“That is… If you, er… If you like it…” He cleared his throat.
“I was envisioning that you could do the herb garden over here,” he said, pointing to the far edge of the clearing, “and that we could put in a vegetable garden here. A raised bed would work, and I could build you an irrigation system as well, so that the excess rain runs off and you can be sure it will not be overwatered in the winter. It is a serious problem here. The rains start in September and do not let up until… until…”
He trailed off, staring at her. She was having trouble putting what she was feeling into words, just gaping at him, and he shifted with discomfort.
“I am sorry,” he stammered. “I should have checked with you first before suggesting this. It was a stupid idea, you do not like it—”
“Do not like it?” she interrupted, finally finding her voice. “I love it!”
For several paralyzed seconds, he did not respond. And then, slowly, his face broke into a smile. “You do? Truly?”
“Of course I do! No one has ever done something like this for me before. It is so thoughtful.”
She took a step toward him, unable to hold herself back. “No one has ever listened to me like that before,” she breathed. “You remembered my interest and thought of a way to bring it into my life here.”
“Well, I have been worried about you,” he said quietly.
“I know that you have moved to this strange new place, that you know no one. And I wanted you to have something of your own to work on. A project.” He also moved closer to her, and his eyes were very tender now.
“It helped me after Margaret died to have a project. And I know that you are running the house. But the house is not just your own. I think it is important to have one’s own interests and pursuits. ”
She nodded, too emotional to speak. All her life, she had done whatever her parents told her to do to make herself into a desirable young woman. Never once had they asked her what she enjoyed or encouraged her to have a project of her own.
But Ewan… Ewan wanted her to follow her own desires. And it meant more to her than she could ever say.
They were close to one another, but not quite touching, and as she gazed up at him, Cassandra felt something flicker in her belly. It was exactly how she had felt when she had heard the lock click in the door on their wedding night, and she had realized they were finally alone.
When she had thought, and perhaps even hoped, that they were about to become closer.
Her jaw tightened.
He does not want that, she reminded herself. And it was dangerous to hope.
It shouldn’t have hurt her so much. But it did, she could not help the pain that bloomed in her chest. She was alone here in a clearing with her husband, a man who was thoughtful and protective, who wanted her to love her life in Scotland, but who did not want to love her. Not as a husband loved a wife.
Was it her? Was she not attractive to him?
These thoughts filled her head, and she had to turn away before he could see the pain in her eyes.
“I should begin to clear it,” she heard herself say, as she pretended to be interested in looking around the clearing, when really, she was drying her eyes. “Cut away all the grass, till the soil, bring in the raised beds… It will truly be an undertaking.”
“We can begin today, if you want,” Ewan said. “Whatever you desire.”
We. She heard the word distinctly, and it tugged at her heartstrings as if she had weights attached to them. He wanted to help her with this. It meant so much to her that she felt another swell of emotion, but she swallowed it down.
***
For the rest of the day, they worked together to clear all the grass and weeds. Ewan brought in servants to help them, and soon they were cutting the grass, weeding out the flowers and heather, and carrying away all the brambles and stones.
Annabelle also wanted to be involved, after Ewan told her what they were planning on one of the trips back to the house, and for some reason decided to dig a giant hole right in the middle of the clearing.
“That is only going to take more time to fill in later,” Ewan said, frowning at the hole while sitting on a log, trying to sketch her drainage system.
Cassandra, who was sketching out what she thought the garden should look like next to him, shook her head. “She is a child,” she scolded him. “She has to be allowed to do silly things that inconvenience us.”
“Is that what children are supposed to do?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.
She bit her lip. “Actually, I do not know. My own childhood was miserable. I was always being forced to memorize Latin or play the pianoforte, and I was never allowed to do anything I wanted or have any fun.”
“No, nor I,” Ewan said, and they looked at one another. Cassandra raised her eyebrows.
“Then perhaps that is why we will allow Annabelle to enjoy her childhood and follow her instincts. To be different kinds of parents than our own parents were.”
She saw him blink at the words parents.
“I did not mean—” she began quickly. “I know I am not her mother, I only meant—”
But Ewan put out a hand to steady her, resting it on her arm, and she stuttered to a stop.
“You are becoming her mother,” he said softly. “That is what she needs more than anything. And I agree with you. We should allow her to have fun. To have the kind of childhood that was not allowed for us.”
The understanding that passed between them then made the back of Cassandra’s neck prickle with awareness. At the same time, a feeling of deep sadness settled over her, like someone had just put a shroud across her shoulders.
We will not have our own children to shape and nurture and parent.
The thought made her feel as if she was going to cry, and she had to occupy herself with her sketch. It was better not to dwell on this. At least not yet.
There was, perhaps, still time to change Ewan’s mind…
Later that afternoon, Lillian and Alaric also joined them, and they spread a blanket out on the ground and enjoyed a picnic of cold ham, salads, and pies.
Alaric and Lillian sat next to each other, Cassandra could not help but notice, and whenever Lillian spoke, Alaric’s eyes snapped to her at once.
He seemed to drink her in every time he looked at her. Watching them, Cassandra felt almost faint. It wasn’t exactly envy that she felt. She was happy for Lillian, who blushed prettily whenever she caught Alaric’s eye and who seemed to buzz with the energy of a woman who knows she is admired.
It was that Cassandra wanted it as well.
She was acutely aware of her husband sitting next to her on the picnic blanket, acutely aware of the fact he did not look at her like that, acutely aware of the fact he might never.
Not for the first time, she wondered what exactly had happened between him and his late wife. He must truly have loved her, if he had cut himself off from feeling such things for another woman, even one he was married to.
And, despite herself, she felt a strong surge of jealousy rise up inside of her.
It was unfair, and even macabre, to be jealous of a dead woman, but Cassandra could not help it.
Ewan had locked some part of him away after her passing, and she was unsure if she would ever find the key to open it again.
At that moment, she looked up, and, to her surprise, Ewan was looking directly at her. For a moment, she forgot to breathe. Everything else melted away except for the two of them. His gaze was so intense that she could no longer even hear her own thoughts.
At last, he looked away, and she forced herself to return to her lunch. Heat had risen to her cheeks, and she wondered if he had been able to read what she was thinking in her eyes. If he could guess at the stirrings that were beginning inside of her.
They worked for a few more hours, until finally, there was one small plot of earth that was ready for planting.
“Annabelle, I want you to help me with this,” Cassandra said, as she carried a small seedling from the wheelbarrow the servants had brought over to the patch of earth. The little girl touched the small leaves curiously.
“What is it?” she asked.
“It is a sprig of rosemary,” Cassandra explained. “I brought it with me from Cornwall. And I want you to be the one to plant it.”
“Why me?” Annabelle asked, her eyes wide.
Cassandra tweaked the end of her nose. “Because the rosemary is a symbol of my old life,” she said, “and you are a symbol of my new one.”
Annabelle grinned toothily at her, then stretched out her hands, and Cassandra set the seedling in them.
“Just bury the roots in this hole,” Cassandra said, showing her where to set it. “Not the stem. That will stay above ground.”
“And what will it grow into?” Annabelle asked. “Will it become a tree?”
“It will become a shrub,” Cassandra explained, as she helped Annabelle pack in the dirt around the seedling “And when it is ready, we will be able to pick its leaves and use it in our food.”
“We will eat it?” Annabelle sounded amazed. “But will it not be dirty?”
“Most of what we eat comes from the earth,” Ewan said, crouching down next to her and helping her pack in the earth. “Any vegetable we eat is grown first in the dirt. We wash them, then cook them, then eat them.”
He took her hand, and Annabelle smiled up at him. “I like growing things with you, Papa,” she said. She looked at Cassandra, then took her hand as well. “I like growing things with both of you.”
Cassandra could only nod, emotion making it difficult for her to speak.
She liked growing things with Annabelle and Ewan, as well, and she could only hope they would continue to grow.