Ten #4
While Michael was in a pucker over something. In years of privation at a French garrison, and more years of duels and difficulties in the wilds of London, Michael Brodie had never once been in a pucker.
“Do you know why I have arrived to your doorstep, Michael? Why I have brought my new wife, whose health is supposed to be delicate—though she scoffs at such a notion—hundreds of miles north, risking your wrath and handily earning your baroness’s displeasure?”
“You surely did that—earned Brenna’s displeasure.”
Sebastian gestured toward the bench. “Shall we sit?”
Hospitality meant Michael must accommodate his guest’s request, and the interrogator in Sebastian also knew that constraining the movements of a restless man meant words might escape that the man would otherwise keep inside.
Michael sat, his gaze going to the battlements where a pennant flapped in a crisp breeze.
“That flag did not fly from the time my father died until the day I arrived back here. That’s the tradition, and Brenna would not have it any other way.”
Sebastian took a place beside him, the stone making for a cold, hard seat, though Michael didn’t seem to notice the discomfort.
“Why did you stay away from your home so long? You adore that woman, and in this environment, you move differently, you speak differently, you even look different.” And Michael apparently cared not one whit why a commanding officer had traveled hundreds of miles with an expecting wife to enjoy the frigid summer air of Scotland.
Keen green eyes assessed Sebastian, the first direct look Sebastian had endured from his host. “Different, how?”
“More yourself. More a laird of Clan Brodie. You belong here. You didn’t belong in London, and neither of us belonged in France.”
Even mention of the country seemed to blight the pretty morning, but it felt good to say the words to the one person who could understand them.
“You belong with your Milly, and I belonged with my Brenna, though I handily forgot that bit of truth.”
“A soldier’s guilt at this late hour, Michael?”
Across the paddock, a pair of leggy chestnut yearlings began the sort of mock battle that honed the reflexes, built strength, and occasionally resulted in the ruin of a good animal.
“My wife told me this morning—as you were barging into my very breakfast parlor—that some fellow had made a nuisance of himself to her long before her marriage, though at some point, the blighter apparently emigrated.”
“The lot of a female is seldom easy.” Sebastian did not allow himself to reflect on what his Milly had endured, lest he take to kicking Michael’s venerable granite wall.
“She was sixteen when I married her, and she confirmed that her troubles antedated our vows.”
“Ladies can be very attractive at sixteen.” Though Sebastian had never been drawn to youth in such abundance.
“You miss the point, St. Clair. When I went off to war, Brenna was apparently not troubled by any more fools. What sort of man pesters a very young woman—and Brenna’s womanhood was yet developing when we married—but leaves her alone once she has no man on hand to protect her?”
The implication was disgusting, though the legal age of sexual consent was twelve. Michael was a friend, so St. Clair offered what comfort he could.
“The kind of man who desists once a lady’s spoken for?”
“Brenna was engaged to marry me from the age of eight. She was a sweet, quiet, retiring little dumpling, and never gave anybody a bit of trouble.”
Sebastian had watched the sweet, quiet lady over breakfast, and suspected she was capable of causing a good deal of trouble—now. He’d have to compare notes with Milly, though, when she’d finished her reconnaissance in the lady’s solar.
“Your wife will tell you of her past when she’s ready. You spoke vows years ago, but you’re newly married. One has to unlearn the habit of silence, as you well know.”
“Her cousin said as much, and warned me my wife’s silence was a kindness. I am not owed any kindness by the wife I abandoned for years.”
Soldiers were an interesting lot. They offered their lives for generals and kings who would not break bread with them; they fought harder battles upon coming home than they’d faced on foreign shores.
And never talked about any of it.
“You fought to keep that wife safe, Michael, and all the wives and children. Nobody broke up more domestic squabbles at the garrison than you, most of them without my having to say a thing. Your wife might like to know that about you.”
“I think not.” Michael rose and regarded the two yearlings rearing and squealing at each other when they might have been grazing or napping in the sun.
“Talking to one’s wife becomes a habit too, and there are some things Brenna doesn’t need to know about why I left, and why I stayed away as long as I did. ”
Sebastian got to his feet, movement being a good idea after a man had done days of penance in a traveling coach.
“Perhaps you should trust your wife with those confidences, Michael. She might surprise you with a few more of her own.”
Michael marched off, the yearlings continued their mock battle, and the Brodie pennant whipped and snapped above the battlements in a stiff, chilly breeze.