Chapter 34
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Colin was fastening his sword belt when Elspeth entered the study.
She did not knock.
This was no longer remarkable. Elspeth regarded closed doors as invitations to discover what men were attempting to conceal behind them.
Colin glanced toward her. “I am expected in Council.”
“I ken.”
She remained near the door, twisting one finger through the fringe of her sleeve. The nervous movement troubled him more than any argument might have done.
“Did something happen?” he asked, immediately focusing all of his attention on her.
Elspeth crossed the room. She had spent much of the morning with Margaret. Colin had seen them in the courtyard, speaking with the housekeeper while servants carried linens toward the guest chambers.
“I wish tae ask ye something.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “That generally precedes trouble.”
“This isnae trouble.”
“Then ye have already surprised me.”
Her mouth tightened. Ordinarily, she would have answered. This time she looked toward the maps upon his table.
“Colin, I…” She paused to inhale. “I want tae see me maither.”
Colin went still.
“Nay.” The answer came too quickly.
Pain crossed her face before pride concealed it.
Colin exhaled and softened his voice. “Elspeth—”
“Only fer a short visit,” she cut him off. “We neednae remain more than a night.”
“Nay.”
“We could take guards.”
“It isnae the number of guards that concerns me.”
“Then what?”
“Robert has men moving through these lands. He kens our roads, our patrols, perhaps even when riders leave the castle. The Crown is sending someone tae judge every choice I make. I willnae give either of them the opportunity tae find ye exposed beyond the walls.”
Her chin lifted. “Me maither may be hurt.”
“The letter said she is recovering.”
“The letter was written by me faither.”
Colin had no answer to that.
Elspeth stepped closer. “Ye ken what he is. Ye read his words. If she is still injured, he may deny her a healer. If she wishes tae leave, he willnae permit it.”
“I have already sent men tae learn what they can.”
Her eyes widened. “Ye did?”
“Aye.”
“When?”
“After I read the letter.”
Something warm entered her expression, but it lasted only a moment.
“Then let me go join them.”
“Nay.”
Her hand fell from her sleeve. “Ye said we would bring her here if she wasnae safe.”
“And we will.”
“When?”
“When I can take enough men tae protect ye both.”
“That may be months.”
“It willnae.”
“Ye cannae promise that.”
Colin’s patience tightened, though not with her. It tightened around every danger he could not kill because it had no single throat.
“I can promise that I willnae ride ye across open country while Robert waits for weakness.”
“Colin, she is me maither.”
“And ye are me wife.” The words emerged harder than he intended.
Elspeth recoiled by only a fraction, but Colin saw it.
“So that ends the matter?”
“Fer now.”
“Because ye command it?”
“Because I willnae risk yer life.”
“That isnae the same as hearing me.” He could hear the pain in her voice.
“I hear ye.”
“Nay.” Her voice became quiet. “Ye hear danger. Ye hear Robert, the Crown, roads, guards, and all the ways the world might take something from ye. But ye dinnae hear me.”
Colin looked at her. He heard her too well. He heard the daughter beneath the lady, the woman who had watched her mother disappear behind a cathedral crowd and still carried the guilt of surviving. That was precisely why he could not permit the journey.
“If I say aye because ye are grieving,” he said, “and men take ye upon the road, will it comfort ye that I listened? Will it be of help tae yer maither?”
Her face paled. The question had been cruel. Truth often was, but that did not excuse the man who chose its sharpest edge.
Colin stepped toward her. “I’m sorry.”
Elspeth looked away.
“I ken ye are right,” she whispered.
The admission should have eased him. It did not.
“I hate that ye are right.”
“So dae I.”
Her eyes returned to his. “Dae ye?”
“Aye.”
“Ye dinnae look as though ye hate anything. Ye look as though ye have issued another order and expect the world tae arrange itself around it.”
Colin’s jaw tightened. “Would ye prefer I looked frightened?”
The words silenced them both. Elspeth’s anger softened, but the hurt remained. Colin wished she would argue again. Her sharpness he understood. Sadness left him unarmed.
“We will go,” he told her. “When Robert is contained and the roads are secure, I will take ye tae yer maither meself.”
“And if that comes too late?”
“It willnae.”
Again, a promise he could not command fate to obey.
Elspeth seemed to know it. She nodded once and moved toward the door.
“Elspeth.”
She stopped without turning. Colin wanted to tell her that every refusal cost him, that each command meant to protect her placed another stone between them, that he would ride south that very hour if the danger belonged only to him.
Instead, he said. “Dinnae leave the walls.”
Her shoulders stiffened.
“Aye,” she answered. “Me laird.”
The title had never sounded so little like affection.
She left and the door closed quietly behind her. Colin remained beside the table, anger burning through him with nowhere useful to go. He was angry with Robert, with Thomas Fraser, with the Crown, and most of all with himself for making protection feel so much like imprisonment.
Elspeth had not intended to seek Colin so soon. A woman ought, she believed, to preserve at least the appearance of pride after her husband refused her something she wanted desperately.
She ought to withdraw with dignity, remain cool through supper, and permit him several uncomfortable hours in which to contemplate the consequences of disappointing her.
Instead, she spent less than ten minutes pretending to inspect the preparations in the eastern gallery before admitting she had heard nothing the housekeeper said.
Elspeth dismissed herself from the gallery and went in search of him. She found the council chamber empty. The study door stood open, abandoned maps still spread across the table. A servant told her the laird had gone toward the older western rooms with Breac and Murdoch.
Elspeth followed. The passage there was narrow and little used, its walls hung with faded tapestries and the stern faces of MacKenzies who appeared to regard happiness as evidence of weak breeding. She nearly reached the last door when Colin’s voice stopped her.
“Nay.”
The answer came from within one of the smaller rooms. Elspeth slowed.
Murdoch spoke next. “A convincing argument.”
“I gave ye an order.”
“Aye,” Breac replied. “And we are naturally overcome by it.”
Elspeth almost continued forward. The men were discussing patrols, no doubt. Or Robert. Or the Crown’s representative. Nothing good had ever come from three armed men gathering behind a closed door, unless one counted whisky disappearing as an accomplishment.
Then Breac laughed. “Tell us, then. Is it still only her bed ye want?”
Elspeth stopped. The corridor seemed to lengthen around her. Silence followed from the room.
Murdoch made a low sound of amusement. “Aye, laird. Ye were very certain before. A wife for the alliance, a woman for the bed, and naething permitted near the heart.”
Elspeth’s fingers went cold. She knew she should move.
It was shameful to listen at doors. It was humiliating to remain where a private conversation might wound her.
A sensible woman would retreat before hearing anything that could not be forgotten.
Elspeth had rarely been sensible at the necessary moment.
Murdoch laughed again. “There. He has gone silent.”
But the words had already done their damage.
A woman for the bed.
Unable to stop herself, Elspeth entered the room. The three men turned immediately. Every trace of humor vanished. Colin’s face became absolutely still.
“What daes that mean?” Elspeth asked.
No one answered. She looked from Breac to Murdoch, then back to her husband.
“What did he mean?”
Breac set down his cup. “Me lady—”
“Dinnae call me that as though a title will make me too polite tae demand an answer.”
Murdoch looked toward Colin. Colin had not moved. Only his eyes changed, darkening with an emotion Elspeth could not read because he spent his life ensuring no one could.
“Leave us,” he ordered.
Breac and Murdoch obeyed at once. That alone told Elspeth the matter was worse than she wished.
Breac paused beside her. “Lady Elspeth, it was teasing… poorly chosen.”
“Go,” she snarled.
He went. Murdoch followed, closing the door behind them. The click of the latch sounded final.
Elspeth faced Colin. “Am I only a woman fer yer bed?”
“Nay.” The answer came instantly.
“Then what were they speaking about?”
“Words said before.”
“Before what?”
His jaw tightened. “Before matters changed.”
“What matters?”
“Elspeth.”
She hated the warning in her name. She hated more that the tone still had the power to make some foolish part of her wish to yield.
“Nay. Dinnae command me away from this.”
Colin straightened from the table. “Ye shouldnae have been listening.”
Pain sharpened into anger so quickly that it almost relieved her.
“That isnae an answer.”
“It is the truth.”
“And so is what I heard.”
“What ye heard was Breac provoking me.”
“With words ye once gave him.”
Colin looked away. The movement was small. It was also an admission. Elspeth’s throat tightened.
“I wasnae discussing what passed between us.”
“But ye discussed what ye expected from me.”
Colin’s expression hardened. “I expected an alliance. That is what the marriage was meant tae be.”
“And a bedmate.”
“Aye.”
The word struck harder because he did not soften it. Elspeth folded her arms tightly, not from anger but because she suddenly needed to hold herself together.
“I understand perfectly.”
“Dae ye?” His voice sharpened at last. “Ye think I spoke of some pretty convenience placed in me chamber. I spoke of limits. I had reason.”
“Ye always have reason. Duty. Danger. Robert. The Crown. Yer clan. Every wall ye build is named for something respectable.”