Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
brIGIT
Mid November
The days grow shorter now. The mornings bite with a cold that was not there before. Everyone is eager to be done with the road. To sleep without listening for wolves or other dangers.
Since the night at the tavern, everything has shifted between Elijah and me.
His hand finds mine without thought. His smile comes easily, and his eyes soften when they rest on Patrick.
The others have taken to teasing us, calling us the picture of newlywed bliss, and I let them believe it.
I even laugh. Sometimes, I almost believe it myself. That is the cruelest part.
I have come to love my husband, from small things like the way he checks our harness twice before setting out and making sure Patrick and I have warm water, to the way he listens when I speak, the way he trusts my judgment without question.
At night, when the fire burns low and the camp quiets, I feel safe beside him.
I tell myself I did what I must. To shelter us. But shelter is not the same as a home. I crave more than safety. I wonder if necessity is enough to forgive what I have done.
Chatter and laughter rose above the crackle of the fire. Everyone’s tired spirits were lifted as news spread that we may reach the settlement within a day or two.
Eli’s arm brushed mine where I sat beside him.
I felt his unspoken question—why I was not celebrating as the others were.
But my stomach churned so violently I could hardly breathe.
Ever since our night together at the tavern, I’d fooled myself into believing everything would be fine.
We’d hardly been able to keep our eyes—or our hands—from each other.
Everyone around us teased us mercilessly.
Oddly, Silas held his tongue, his gaze lingering on me longer than was comfortable, his eyes speculative.
I knew the lie had begun as protection. A desperate act of survival. The only way I knew forward for Patrick.
I had not counted on falling in love with my husband.
“Brigit?”
The concern I heard in Elijah’s voice was too much. I bolted to my feet and scurried to the dark edge of the woods. I pressed a hand to my stomach, trying to calm the storm, but the meager bites I’d managed for dinner came up.
A hand gently caressed my back. “You should have told me you didn’t feel well,” Eli, as I called him now, said softly. “What can I do? Maybe brew some tea with your herbs as I’ve seen you do for others?”
I shook my head and gulped in the cool night air.
“Brigit? You’re as white as a sheet. What’s wrong?”
I turned, and the sight of him nearly undid me. His brow was creased with worry, the firelight flickering behind him like a halo. He deserved the truth, no matter what it cost me, so long as it didn’t cost Patrick.
“I’ve fallen in love with you.”
A faint smile touched his lips. “Is that so bad?” he teased. “Especially since I love you, too.”
“It’s not that.”
“Then what?”
I drew a shaking breath. “In Ireland, many know the use of herbs. But I knew more than most, taught by my grandmother. I treated people and animals alike. I did not hold to all the cautions others did. What worked, I used. What did not, I set aside. My grandmother was tried as a witch for the same reason. I was accused of laying a spell that caused the death of a cow. After, stories grew quickly. It no longer felt safe to stay.”
He drew back. “That’s foolishness.”
I smiled wryly. “People hold fast to old ways.”
“So you weren’t in trouble by another man?” I heard the confusion in his voice.
I shook my head. “Nay. ‘Twas my sister. Nora.” Her name caught in my throat.
He stilled, and I rushed to fill in the rest.
“’Twas not me you were meant to marry,” I blurted.
“I traveled with Nora, but as an indentured servant because it was the only passage I could secure.” My voice faltered.
“My sister died on the voyage over giving birth to Patrick. She put him in my arms and bade me swear to protect him with my life.”
I pressed on. “I meant to honor the terms of my contract. I thought if I offered a longer indenture term, there might still be a place for us. But then I saw the man on the pier lift his hand to a child without a moment’s pause.”
I swallowed hard. “I knew what sort of life Patrick and I would have under a man like that. I chose to tell him the woman he contracted with was dead.”
His jaw tightened. “You deceived me,” he said at last.
I reached for him, desperate now. “Eli, please understand. In the moment, I did not think I was choosing a husband. I thought I was choosing whether the child I swore to protect would be safe.”
He pulled his arm from my grasp.
“I nearly told you at the tavern,” I said, the words rushing out.
“But I had nothing—no coin, no dowry. If I’d spoken the truth, you’d have felt bound to do the honorable thing.
To seek Cormac. To set it right.” My voice broke.
“I couldn’t ask you to choose between your honor and a child not your own. So I held my tongue.”
A harsh laugh tore from him. “Did you really think I’d have left you standing helpless on the street?”
“I didn’t know you then,” I whispered desperately.
“All this time.” He stood, shaking his head. “Your name. Our vows. Do you understand what you’ve done? Our marriage, if it’s even real, is nothing but a lie.” His voice hardened. “And now I must play the fool—trapped inside it.”
He spun away, his shoulders rigid, leaving me in the darkness. For a long moment, I stood trembling. My secret was out, laid between us like a match to gunpowder, clearing the ground but leaving it blackened.
But there was still an ember of hope. I had not lied about my love for him. And somehow, I would make him see it.