Chapter 15
“Well, well, well, look who we have here.”
The absolute last thing Kaden needed right now was small talk.
He didn’t know why he had gone to the closest pub in the village in the first place. He ought to have just stayed at the castle and drowned himself in whiskey in his own bedroom. That would have been the better place to brood.
But he didn’t trust himself inside his own head at times like this. It would only trigger the desolation. Most nights, he could handle it, even on the nights when he needed to have the room illuminated by more candlelight than was feasible.
He didn’t mind being alone, but not tonight. Even the chatter in the pub was preferable to drinking alone.
He glanced at the barkeep with an upward jerk of his chin in greeting and moved to the table at the back of the room.
One drink turned into two, then into five, then into seven as the hours ticked by slowly.
He could have made conversation, as these were his people, but he no longer had anything in common with them.
Not really. The casual exchange of tales from their days didn’t apply to him, and he no longer had the tolerance for chatter.
It was good to see them, to remember their faces, even if they tended to keep glancing in his direction with nothing but fear.
He knew that he had been warmly accepted back into his clan, but that didn’t mean that they weren’t afraid.
They all could see that there was something dangerous lurking inside of him, even if they were kind enough to pretend that they didn’t see it.
At least the whiskey was keeping him warm and steadying his nerves. He was very far from intoxicated, but at least it took the edge off the memories of Emily.
She had been repulsed by him.
It had been a risk, engaging with her like that. But when she looked like that, how was he supposed to stop himself? She had been so warm and pliant. Her softness against his body made him damn near lightheaded and dizzy.
Until she had touched him. Until her fingers had brushed that jagged, torn skin and she had paused. No doubt, she had to fight the urge to retch. He wouldn’t be surprised.
When Kaden had come back to Muir, the healers who had attended to him had had difficulty finding skin decent enough to stitch him back together. He could vividly remember one of the less-experienced ones vomiting at the sight of his back and promptly passing out.
More than once, when he had been with a woman, he had had to be creative to keep them from seeing too much, overcompensating where he needed to in order to keep them from questioning anything.
Even the few who had seen something that he would rather they hadn’t, their opinions meant so little to him.
But Emily’s opinion of him mattered.
If she was repulsed by him, how was their marriage going to work? She had seemed upset that he had stopped, but she had a kind heart. No doubt, she had been trying to placate him.
Still, he was more wounded than he had thought he would be. He could not care that deeply for her already. It was impossible. He had only just met her, for God’s sake.
His eighth glass of whiskey was delivered to the table with a small chunk of still-warm bread and some soft cheese.
The barkeep smiled kindly at him as he nodded at the bread. “So yer head willnae kill ye in the morning.”
Kaden nodded his thanks but didn’t touch the bread. He appreciated the gesture. What he didn’t appreciate, however, was the company that invited itself to sit at the table with him.
“Me Laird,” the older man started.
Kaden’s shoulders tensed at the sight of him, the phantom ache in his knuckles surfacing from the last time he had nearly driven his fist through the man’s jaw. His name escaped him at present, but Kaden didn’t even understand why he had stayed here after the cèilidh.
Kaden didn’t greet him, lest he think that he was welcome to share the table with him, which he absolutely was not.
“Begging yer pardon for the intrusion, Laird Muir. I willnae take up too much of yer time,” the man spoke quickly, wincing in discomfort.
Bruises still covered the bridge of his nose and purpled the skin beneath his eyes as he spoke. His nose was absolutely broken, and Kaden could hear it in his voice and the way he spoke—thick with congestion.
Kaden hid a smirk behind the rim of his glass as he took a small sip. He stared at the man, unblinking, until he realized what the man wanted.
“I wanted to apologize, and also to congratulate ye. News of yer betrothal has spread quickly.”
Kaden hummed a low sound of acknowledgement and said nothing.
Though it was a bit ironic, coming from this bastard.
“I hope that we willnae have any more problems, then? Clear the air between us and all of that?”
Kaden’s eyebrow arched, because he had absolutely no intention of agreeing to anything of the sort. But, apparently, letting this man sit across from him signaled to the rest of the pub that he was open to conversation.
Another patron, clearly deep in his cups, turned around on the wooden bench he was seated on, smirking at both of them. “Are ye betrothed to Emily Reid already?”
Kaden didn’t care for the way the fool slurred Emily’s name. Her name ought not to slip past his lips in the first place, least of all with a hint of derision.
On a good day, Kaden’s grip on his temper was a thin thread. Since he had been drinking, there was almost no tether at all. The strings were as fragile and precarious as a spider’s web.
“I am,” he answered gruffly.
At least the fool, whose name Kaden didn’t know, had the sense to hesitate at his tone before continuing.
“Well, good luck with her. I’ve heard that she’s a feisty wee thing!” He snorted a wet laugh. “Has met with plenty of men, too!”
He laughed again, slapping the chest of the man beside him, hoping to coax him into laughing with him, as if Emily was the butt of a joke they were sharing.
The bench that Kaden was seated on nearly toppled over backward as he stood, his large frame closing the distance between him and the drunken man easily. He grabbed him by the collar, lifting him onto his wobbly legs. All hints of amusement left the man’s face instantly, and he paled.
“Are ye truly insulting me future bride, to me face?” Kaden hissed, the words forced through his teeth. “Is that the respect the wife of yer Laird deserves?”
Foolishly, the man let out a nervous laugh. “She’s been betrothed far too many times to deserve respect. She doesnae deserve to be the wife of a laird.”
There was something sinister under his tone. He was afraid of Kaden; that much was clear. But either he was stupid or overly prideful, for he didn’t take back his disparaging words.
The fragile hold on his temper was gone. Kaden’s grip tightened. He shouldn’t go about attacking his clansmen, no matter how stupid they were.
He sneered at the man. “I’ll warn ye one last time to watch yer tongue, or I’ll have it removed.”
Something flashed across the fool’s face, but he didn’t say anything. The first wise thing that he had done.
Kaden dropped him, and the man’s unsteady legs didn’t catch him properly. He wobbled and then stumbled. His hip knocked into the wooden table before he half fell back down onto the bench, and he had to catch himself awkwardly.
“Graham!” one of the men who had been sitting with him exclaimed, reaching out to help steady him. “Are ye all right?”
Graham looked back up at Kaden once more with hatred in his eyes.
Kaden knew that he needed to walk away. All it was going to take was one more disparaging word against him or Emily, and he was going to find himself in a brawl in the middle of the damned pub.
That wouldn’t suit anyone here.
With a huff, Kaden turned around, finished his whiskey, and left the pub.