Chapter 14
The following day wasn’t any easier. Kirsten had a knot twisting in her stomach, and there was nothing that could ease it.
There was an anxious mood within the entire castle.
It was palpable, and Kirsten couldn’t escape it.
Whenever she was outside, she continually looked to the distance, hoping she would see Marcas leading a triumphant army back from their battle.
Then she turned away, fearing that she would see Marcas’s body being carried back.
She took Max for a walk in the hope that it would make them both feel better, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong.
Moira was still grumbling and scared, but they were utterly helpless.
It was in the late afternoon when, finally, something appeared over the horizon.
Guards and servants scrambled outside as soon as they realized that the army was returning.
Kirsten ran outside with Max, fighting her way to the front of the crowd as the army rode back along the dusty path, emerging from the forest. Her heart sank when she realized that Marcas wasn’t leading them.
Tears filled her eyes as she feared the worst and ran up to them.
“Where is he! Where’s my husband?” she cried, tears blurring her vision.
The leader gestured behind him and told her that he was wounded.
She moved through the horses and the weary warriors, looking at their scarred faces and beaten armor, as well as their bloodstained weapons.
They passed around her when she came to Marcas.
He was being pulled along in a cart, strapped in a lying position.
His eyes were closed, and his head lolled from side to side as the cart trundled along.
There was a gash on his shoulder, and someone called out to her that he had been hit by a mace.
There were other people who had been wounded as well, some fatally. Kirsten spared a moment for them.
When they reached the house, the guards and servants helped the warriors alight from their horses and return to comfort.
They took the wounded inside. Marcas was beginning to return to consciousness.
He was groggy, but his eyes were cracked open.
Kirsten was overjoyed to see him stand. When he stepped forward, he staggered and almost lost his balance, but Kirsten was there to help support him.
His long arm fell around her shoulder, and his weight was on her, but she told herself that she would not buckle.
He smelled of sweat and war, and he looked exhausted.
Max ran up to him and pawed at him. This seemed to offer Marcas some relief.
He lowered a lazy hand and ruffled Max’s head, smiling.
“I’m glad tae be home,” he said.
“How are ye feeling?” she asked.
“Tired,” he said, and winced in pain.
She glanced at his wound and scrunched up her face.
“That looks nasty.”
“It’s naething serious. A wee bit of rest, and I’ll be fine. I just need tae lie down. It’s been a long night. It was a hard ride and a hard battle,” he said.
“Would ye like some tea?” she asked, hopeful that she could still mark the occasion with something romantic. She wasn’t certain that the wound was as minor as Marcas claimed, but she wasn’t about to argue with him. If he wanted to keep a hold of his pride, then so be it.
She helped him into bed while she gathered the lavender and went down to the kitchen to make him some tea, leaving him alone with Max. When she returned with a fresh brew, he smiled.
“It smells nice,” he said, leaning back against the pillows. When she handed him the cup, Max started to growl and walked up to Marcas, trying to nudge the cup away. Marcas lifted the cup out of his reach, but Max continued to growl.
“What’s gotten intae him?” Kirsten asked.
“He’s probably just annoyed that I left him here,” Marcas said as he sipped his tea and gave it an approving nod.
“It reminds me of what Ma used tae drink.” Kirsten smiled, glad that he appreciated it, but now that they were alone and she had gotten over her elation that he had returned, frustration began to simmer inside her.
She crossed her arms and sat on the end of the bed.
“Marcas, why did ye hae tae leave like that? I was sae afraid that I would never see ye again.”
“I haed tae. They were the ones who attacked here ten years ago. They’re the ones who cost Da his life.
When I heard they were making moves tae attack our land, I had tae act.
I wasnae gaeing tae let them gae tae close.
I wanted tae see ye before I left, but I couldnae find ye, and there was nae time. ”
Kirsten nodded and bowed her head. She still didn’t like it, but she had to accept that it was the way things had to be.
“What was it like? The battle?” she asked in a small voice.
Marcas leaned his head back and took another sip of tea, letting it linger on his tongue before he swallowed. She hoped that it would calm him after a night filled with rage.
“It was one of the hardest battles I hae ever fought. They were as fierce as I can remember, but I was nae gaeing tae let them get away, nae after what they’ve done.
I taught them a lesson. I showed them that I was the laird and that they were nae gaeing tae dae the same tae me as they had done tae my da.
And if they didnae get the message this time, I’ll be happy tae give it tae them again,” he said, his face twisting in anger.
Kirsten’s heart sank at the thought that there could be more battles ahead.
“In that case, I hope they dae get the message because I hated being here while ye were out there. I hated waiting and worrying and sleeping alone, never knowing if ye would return. Oh, I know ye hae tae defend the clan, but just the thought of ye being in harm’s way is terrifying.
I want tae build a life with ye, and I cannae dae that if ye are dead. ”
Marcas’s face turned to stone, and he pressed his lips together. He took another long sip of tea, draining the cup dry, and then reached over and placed it on the table beside the bed.
“I cannae leave the clan undefended. I cannae let our enemies get away with threatening us,” he said.
“I understand that.” Kirsten leaned forward and took his hand in hers, pressing her fingers into his palm.
“I know that I cannae stop ye from being the man ye are, and I dinnae want tae. I like that ye are sae ready tae defend yer clan. I just dinnae want ye tae fight when ye dinnae need tae, especially when there is a lot of life tae lead yet. I want tae enjoy it with ye, Marcas. I dinnae want tae be a widow.”
“I understand, lass, and ye wilnae be. I promise ye that.” He looked into her eyes earnestly and she so desperately wanted to believe him. She wished that it was something he could promise, but how could he declare something like that when battle was so inherently unpredictable?
“I cannae stand by again and dae naething when my clan is being attacked. I wilnae,” he said with a strong determination in his voice.
Max had still not settled and was moving around the bed in an agitated manner, pawing at Marcas.
It was difficult to have an honest, tender moment when Max was acting like this.
“Max, what is wrong with ye? I’m trying tae recover here. I cannae rest when ye are being like this. I dinnae know what’s gotten intae him. Can ye take him outside? Maybe he needs tae be alone.”
Kirsten dragged Max out of the room and ordered him to his bed. He continued to paw at the door as though something was wrong, but Kirsten didn’t understand.
“Ye dinnae hae tae worry, Max. He’s home now, safe and sound,” Kirsten said.
Max continued to paw at the door for a while until he seemed to realize that it wasn’t getting him anywhere, and then he slumped in his bed.
Kirsten returned to her own bed, sighing.
She turned, intending to speak with Marcas some more in the hopes of finding a deeper connection, but his head lolled to the side.
He had already fallen into a deep sleep.
She smiled at the sight of him in bed, the great warrior looking so peaceful.
She rearranged the blanket so that it was draped over him more comfortably and made sure his head was resting on the pillow.
There was an ugly bruise on his shoulder where the mace had hit him; the skin was a purple color.
She winced at the thought of anyone striking him with such power.
Her own shoulder throbbed with sympathetic pain.
He started to snore as she sat beside him, stroking his hair and generally basking in the sight of him.
It was rare that she should be awake while he slept, and she also realized that she enjoyed taking care of him.
She kissed him on the forehead before she got into bed with him.
She had missed one night with him and wanted to make up for that.
She snuggled into his warmth and hoped that the battles in his life would be few.
She could not change the man’s nature. He would fight if he thought it was necessary, and she would have to learn to control her own anxieties.