Chapter 8
Lachlan was furious. How could an entire keep lose track of one woman?
Not a single person he questioned claimed to have spoken to or seen Sloane that day.
Not one. His wife was a quiet woman and blended in easily to her surroundings, but it didn’t seem possible that not one person had caught sight of their new mistress.
And yet, that was exactly what they had claimed.
It infuriated him that she’d been missing for so long before he’d been told.
He’d nearly raked Freya over the coals for her mistake and pointed out all the ways that they might find Sloane’s cold and dead body.
It might have been a little over the top, but he’d vowed to protect her only a few days ago and then she went missing.
She was strangely quiet as they rode back to the keep and he didn’t like the way her body sagged against him.
She was exhausted. It was clear in her eyes and it worried him even more than her lies.
Sloane was not wandering aimlessly around his land, but he’d make sure that she was fed and resting in the warmth of her chamber before he demanded the truth from her.
At the entrance of the keep, Lachlan dismounted. She all but slid off the horse, and he caught her before her knees buckled. “Bloody hell, Sloane,” he muttered.
“I am all right.” Reaching out, she placed a hand on his chest and steadied herself. “See. Nothing to worry about.”
“Nothing to worry about? Ye can barely stand.” Hooking a hand under her body, he picked her up and ignored her squeaks of protest. She was so slender and she was shaking in his arms. Freya, his mother, and his father were waiting nervously for them.
Seeing Sloane in his arms, Freya gasped and hurried over. “Are ye all right?”
“I am fine, but my husband seems hard of hearing,” Sloane hissed as she wiggled. He only tightened his hold and strode right past them.
“Send some food and wine up to her chambers,” Lachlan demanded. “She hasna eaten all day.”
There was a scurry of activity behind them, but he didn’t stop until he could deposit Sloane by her bed. Stripping off her cloak, he started to undo the sash of her dirty dress. With a cry, she tried to pull away. “Doona fight me on this, Sloane. I only want to get ye warm.”
She stopped struggling against him and he stripped her down to her shift. Lifting the furs on her bed, Lachlan waited until she crawled beneath. Then he lit the fire and opened the door to accept the tray of food that Freya brought.
“Ye will eat,” he hissed as he handed the food to her. “Every bite.”
Slowly, Sloane lifted the spoon to her lips. A look of surprise flitted across her face. “What?” he demanded. “Is there something wrong with it?”
“Nay. ’Tis quite good,” she said in puzzlement. “’Tis not salty.”
“Of course, ’tis not salty. Why would ye be eating a salted stew?”
She closed her eyes briefly and returned to her food. “’Tis nothing. Ye doona need to hover over me while I eat. I am not harmed. I am simply a little cold and hungry. Ye are making too much of this.”
“I was worried. Now, I am angry.” Sitting on the edge of the bed, he glared at her. “Ye will finish eating and then ye will tell me why ye lied to me out there. Ye were not exploring my land and ye didna lose track of time.”
When she dropped her gaze back to the soup, his stomach flipped. It was all the confirmation that he needed. Reasons for her deception flew through his mind and he could find only one that made any sense: Sloane was hoping to run.
Was it something that he’d done or said? He’d done nothing to hurt her or upset her. Last night, he pleasured her until she was panting in his arms. Was she scared of that? Did she fear that kind of intimacy?
It didn’t make sense. Their first night together, she was willing to strip and give him everything that he wanted. Now that she knew it would bring her pleasure, she wanted to run?
“Make me understand,” he said softly. “Why would ye run from me, Sloane?”
“Run from ye?” Setting the bowl aside, she reached over and clutched at his arm. “Please, doona believe that, Lachlan. I wouldna do that. Ye have been nothing but kind to me and I am grateful for that. Besides, where would I go? ’Tis not like the Fentons would take me back.”
Frustrated, he stroked his fingers over the delicate skin of her hands. “If ye didna run, then why did ye lie?”
“I was embarrassed,” she admitted. “I wanted to speak to Freya and Elspeth. I was looking for them and I lost my way. My father’s people used to jab at me about my sense of direction. I am sorry that I lied.”
“Freya was in the keep most of the day and Elspeth is usually in the keep or at her cottage. If ye had asked anyone for help, ye would not have gotten lost. Ye must not be timid here, Sloane. The MacFarlane lands are far larger and wilder than the Fenton lands. Ye must be careful. Ye are so fragile…”
“Fragile!” she barked suddenly. “Fragile? Why would ye call me fragile?” There was a strange fury in her eyes and she struggled to push the blanket away.
“Sloane,” he said awkwardly as he moved, but she was on a warpath and stood with her hands planted firmly on her hips.
“How dare ye say that I am fragile! Ye know nothing about me! Have I given ye cause to call me fragile?”
He had no idea that a single word could set her off. “I didna mean to offend ye. Perhaps I should have said delicate.”
“Delicate!” Throwing her hands up in the air, she began to pace angrily. “First, I am fragile and now, I am delicate! Do ye expect me to break apart like glass right in front of ye? Be careful how ye touch me, husband, or I might shatter!”
Wincing, Lachlan instinctively backed away for fear that her flailing hands might catch him off guard. “I simply mean that ye are a slip of a thing.”
“Small. That is my crime? That I am small? Perhaps ye should consider that ye are large! Too large! Ye take up far too much room, but that doesna mean that ye get to look at anyone smaller than ye as delicate or fragile! Would ye say that yer sister is fragile? Nay! How about yer mother? Of course not! Ye vowed to respect me and this is how ye show it? Manhandle me and shout in outrage whenever I deign to step out on my own? I may not be fit to be mistress of yer keep, Lachlan MacFarlane, but I have been taking care of myself since I was verra young and I doona need someone hovering over me now. Leave.”
Narrowing his eyes, he took a step toward her. “Did ye just give me an order, wife?”
“Aye. I want ye to leave. Now.”
Jutting out her chin, she met his gaze and he blew out his breath in frustration.
Whatever he expected to happen here, being on the receiving end of his wife’s surprising temper was not one of them.
“Ye will finish yer stew,” he managed as he drew himself up to his full height.
“And ye will get some sleep. Tomorrow, before we break our fast, we will have this conversation again when ye are in a more sound mind!”
Her eyes widened and he realized he was about to witness another tantrum. Quickly, he escaped out the adjacent door and slammed it shut. In wonder, he turned and stared at the closed door.
Sloane was growing more and more puzzling by the day.
After a fitful night of sleep, Sloane woke up and gazed at the closed door between their two chambers. Soon, he’d be awake and barging in to demand answers about yesterday.
“If I had a lock, then I wouldna have to worry about it,” she said to herself before she yawned.
But there was no lock, so there was only one solution. She’d need to slip out of her room before Lachlan could come in and insult her further. She was still determined to speak to Elspeth.
Dressing quickly and quietly, Sloane stole out into the hall. The hour hadn’t quite reached dawn, so the only people that she passed were servants. Inspiration struck and she backed up to the young woman carrying hot water to refill the basins in the room.
“Pardon me. I need to leave a message with ye. If ye see Laird Lachlan, could ye please let him know that his wife is heading out to see Elspeth? Thank ye.”
The maid blinked in confusion and nodded.
Sloane made sure to tell every single person that she met where she was going and she headed straight to Freya’s room.
After getting a sleepy and puzzling set of directions from the young woman while she yawned and struggled to get out of bed, Sloane snagged several pieces of fruit from the kitchen and skipped merrily to Elspeth’s cottage.
Today was already a better day than yesterday.
When the door opened, it wasn’t Elspeth on the other side but her husband Adair. He frowned at her and looked at the barely rising sun. “Is there something wrong?”
“No. I would like to have a word with yer wife? I was waylaid from seeing her yesterday. If ye see my bear of a husband, please let him know that my whereabouts are accounted for. He seems to think a single breeze might cause me to break into pieces. Is she in?”
His eyes widened in confusion as he stared at Sloane, but she refused to repeat herself. She’d done her due diligence by leaving a trail for her husband to follow, and now, she only wanted answers to her questions.
There was a soft chuckle, and Elspeth appeared. “Aye, I am here.”
“Do ye mind overly if I spend the morn with ye? I will happily help with yer chores. I doona want ye to waste valuable time on me.”
“’Tis never a waste of time to get to know our new mistress.” A smile tugged at the corner of her lips as she embraced her husband. “Please let the Laird know that his wife is in good hands. I will see ye at dinner.”
There was obviously love between the two and Sloane was fascinated by the exchange.
She could count on one hand the number of people she knew who had married for love and she’d never witnessed it firsthand.
Seeing the tenderness between Adair and Elspeth, Sloane knew that she was seeing something special.
After kissing his wife, the warrior grunted at her as he left and Sloane hesitantly walked inside. “I didna realize how early it was. I hope I am not intruding.”
It was only half a lie. She knew that it was early, but she didn’t want to run into Lachlan. She hadn’t expected to find the cottage so easily after the adventure she’d had yesterday.
“Lachlan is rigid when it comes to scheduling. Adair is up at dawn and I doona like to sleep without him, so I am up as well. Were ye coming to see me yesterday? I heard that ye were missing! Did ye get lost?”
Sensing a kind soul, Sloane confessed the truth. “Nay. I didna know where ye lived, so I asked directions. I was deliberately misled. I doona believe the clan thinks much of me.”
Elspeth’s eyes narrowed considerably. “I wasna raised on MacFarlane lands. I am a Sinclair by birth, but I was traded to the MacFarlane clan when I was old enough to wed. I had six sisters, ye see. I quickly learned the hard way how stubborn MacFarlanes can be. I am sorry that they are giving ye so much trouble. Lachlan will have a word with them.”
Six sisters? Sloane was a little jealous. With a large family, one was never alone. “I cannae do that. How can I earn their respect if I hide behind my husband? Nay, if I want to be a MacFarlane, I must prove that I am worthy. I will endure their pranks. ’Tis harmless.”
“Pranks?” Elspeth asked. “So misleading ye ’tis not the first?”
She managed a smile. “I thought perhaps that the MacFarlanes had a fondness for salt.”
With an exasperated sigh, Elspeth shook her head. “Children, the lot of them. Come. We’ll make some tea and ye can tell me what is on yer mind. If ye would like some breakfast, I promise to not even touch the salt.”
The cottage was warm and cozy. Sloane immediately felt welcomed and at home as she followed the woman to the kitchen.
The rising sun was already brightening the place.
Herbs were drying from their hooks near the top and a beautiful bouquet of wildflowers dressed the small table.
There was also a pile of fabric and thread sitting next to it.
“Are ye a seamstress for the clan?”
“Hmm?” Elspeth followed her line of sight and shook her head. “Oh, nay. I am talented enough, but Hilda is the seamstress. I work mostly in the keep. That is a side project for a friend of mine. She has just discovered that she is pregnant and she has no one to help her.”
“No one? What about the father? Surely Lachlan can find a position for him.”
Elspeth opened her mouth then shut it and shook her head. “’Tis really not my place to discuss it. I hope ye understand.”
“Of course.”
Pulling out two mugs from the cabinet, Elspeth poured the tea. “I started out as a companion for Maggie, but now that Maggie and Calder have stepped down, I help Freya. Now that ye are taking over as mistress and Freya will be leaving us, perhaps ye’ll allow me to help ye.”
“I will take any help that I can get. That is why I’m here.” Sloane accepted the tea with a grateful smile and followed Elspeth into the small sitting area. Taking a seat in one of the chairs, she took a nervous breath.
The woman looked at her sympathetically. “Ye want my help in winning over the clan?”
“Nay.” Sloane cleared her throat and reddened. “I’d like yer counsel about the activities between a husband and a wife... in bed.”