Chapter Thirty-One
After a day of wandering about, mostly feeling sorry for herself, Emma spotted an inn at the end of the village square.
During her time at the village, everyone had been friendly—certainly more than she was finding at the castle—but to her annoyance and embarrassment, no one seemed to even know their laird had taken a wife.
Once she’d identified herself, however, they were very pleased to hear the news. Some of them hadn’t even known the former Gunn was dead and that Morgan was now the new laird.
She thought that strange since generally villages were very gossipy. But here, it was almost as if the lack of the news had been created on purpose.
The inn appeared clean and with a small fire burning, warm enough to take the chill out of the air. Since it was growing close to the evening meal, she ordered a bowl of stew and a mug of ale.
She could not remember when she’d been so very tired and miserable. If only she could tell herself it didn’t matter, that she had no feelings for Morgan, and especially that she would be fine going back to Castle Leod.
But she couldn’t fool herself. She did, in fact, care for Morgan, and was even afraid she’d fallen in love with the annoying man.
He had a way of looking at her that melted her bones and made her feel like taking off her clothes and lying down.
His lovemaking was tender and sweet, and other times ferocious and intense. She enjoyed both sides of him. But it was not just that part of their marriage that drew her.
Morgan was a strong, compelling man. He was recovering not just from physical injuries, but from being thrust unexpectedly into lairdship, while trying to gain back the trust of his men, while not appearing weak because of his injury.
Then there was the matter of Patrick, whom she knew Morgan was watching carefully.
She sighed. Perhaps she’d given up too quickly. She kept thinking about Beth Mackenzie and how she’d been thrown into the Mackenzie dungeon, but who had turned into a competent chatelaine and partner to Daniel after her rescue.
“Patrick.”
She looked up at the table closer to the window. The man was not there, but someone at that table had whispered his name.
With her sitting in the dark corner of the room she could not be seen. She studied the men carefully, but the only words she heard were Patrick and Oliphant. From the way the men spoke and what little she could understand those two words were important to their conversation.
Since she was not familiar with everyone—nay, mostly no one—she didn’t recognize the men speaking. She wasn’t even sure if they were Gunns or from the Oliphant clan. Or neither one. She knew nothing about that clan except that it was in the Highlands.
Two other men joined them and there was enough secrecy in their tone and movements that she grew concerned.
She chewed her lip and glanced out the window again.
It was growing dark and she would be foolish to leave now and ride home alone, but Morgan needed to know that he was correct and it appeared that Patrick was planning something with the Oliphants.
*
Morgan sped toward the village with his heart in his throat. Even though his wife had been very unhappy the last time he’d seen her, he didn’t think she was miserable and reckless enough to attempt a return to Castle Leod on her own.
The only other place he could think of where she would go was to the village, although to his knowledge she had not gone there very often, if at all.
Castle Leod was home to her, and he hadn’t done anything to make sure she’d felt that Clyth Castle was her home. He’d pushed aside her concerns, more taken up with his own. Now she was gone.
Had she left a note, or told someone where she was headed, he wouldn’t be so frantic. But he knew in his heart that she’d left him.
Most of the vendors and just about all the stores would be closed by now, but since he had no other ideas, he headed there anyway.
Why did it take something as drastic as Emma leaving him to have him realize how very much she meant to him? Aye, he had a good idea of his feelings for her when he agreed to marry her just so she could accompany him to Clyth Castle.
He would never admit to weakness, but he had to admit to himself that he was stronger with Emma beside him.
Mayhap they didn’t spend much time together during the day when she was being rejected and he was trying to prove himself to his men, but once they retired to their bedchamber, his day actually began.
As much as he loved taking her to bed, his most restful time was when they sat together, her with an ale and he with a whisky, her perched saucily on his lap as they watched the flames of the fire and discussed their day.
After the last couple of days he’d realized that she was holding back a lot of her suffering in order not to make things worse for him.
Why? Did she love him? Did he love her?
His heart took a jolt. Bluidy hell, he loved the woman!
He didn’t care what it would take, but he would make things right between them. More or less throwing her to the lions would be over. She was his wife, and if anyone did not accept her, they could pack up and leave.
He was almost to the village when he spotted a horse heading in his direction. It appeared the rider was going much faster than normal.
Within minutes he recognized the rider as a woman.
His woman.
She must have known it was him because she slowed her horse. Not waiting for them both to stop, he reached over and despite the pain in his ribs, snatched her from her saddle to settle her in front of him.
She twisted in the saddle and shouted, “Patrick!”
He shook his head, a smile on his lips at finally knowing she was safe in his arms. “Nay, yer husband, Morgan.”
She punched him in the arm. “I ken that. What ye doona ken is that Patrick is planning something with the Oliphant clan. I’m sure it’s an attack on Clyth Castle.”
He pulled the horse to a stop. “Easy, lass. Ye are out of breath.”
She barely got the words out, trying to speak and breathe at the same time. “I was just in the tavern at the inn—”
“What the devil were ye doing there? Doona ye ken how dangerous that can be—”
She laid her hand on his chest. “Stop, Morgan. Ye have to listen to me. Men at the inn were discussing Patrick and a clan called Oliphant. I couldn’t hear everything they said but I caught enough words that I’m afraid they are planning an attack.”
Morgan frowned. He’d had his spies watching Patrick and the information he had was that a rebellion was imminent, but he had no idea Patrick had managed to engage another clan.
“Oliphant? Are ye sure?”
“Aye. From what I could hear it sounded like the plans are to kill ye, then Patrick would be laird and would join with the Oliphant clan.” She frowned. “I doona ken too much about them.”
Morgan turned and started a slow trot toward the castle, Emma’s horse following behind them.
“Aye, they are a small clan. Part of their land borders our northwest and the rest is almost in the middle of Sinclair land. Why they would think that the Sinclairs next to them would allow Gunn to take over Oliphant is no’ a well thought out plan. ”
They rode for a few minutes and Morgan said, “The only thing the Oliphants have for themselves is that they border the sea, which gives them a livelihood selling fish.”
“Why would Patrick want that land, then? For the sea?”
“Nay. Patrick is no’ that smart. I’m thinking he plans to use the men from the Oliphants to help him overthrow me and then will place his own man at the head of the Oliphants.”
He stopped the horse and looked at Emma, taking her hands in his. “There is something I need to say before we go any farther.” He ran his fingers through his hair, not ever having to expose himself so much. But it was time.