Page 86 of Come the Morning

She had made him her enemy, and it was too late to go back. He didn’t trust her, she couldn’t trust him. She had said and done things that she couldn’t change now. She had meant to hurt him at times, and she had hurt herself.

What did he see? Why did he stay so long, his eyes upon her, just the brush of his fingers touching her still …

At length, he turned away. The door to the bedroom closed, and she heard him moving in the outer room. Pouring wine, drinking it, pouring more.

He remained in the cottage. And still, she lay awake.

Eventually, she did sleep, and it was in the midst of the peace and rest she had so desperately craved that a nagging realization woke her.

He knew too much about her. In her anger and rebellion, she had given away far too much.

He knew that the man she had wanted as her husband was Ewan MacKinny. Someone had told him. She had always thought that it would be bitter enough, painful enough, to see Ewan again as it was. And now …

Oh, God. What would he do with Ewan?

He had threatened to kill at the slightest provocation.

She suddenly felt very alone.

And very afraid.

She was coming to know him so well.

She didn’t know him at all. Yet it was disturbing to realize that the evening would have ended better if only she’d slept in his arms.

PARTII

Laird and Lady

CHAPTER16

From the time he was a boy, Waryk had possessed land. He’d received an inheritance through his mother, and his father had been given lands as well. It was all good land, if not densely populated or boasting great castles. It didn’t matter: He loved the wildness, and the peace to be found in different parts of his own holdings, and in all, he had a passionate love for his home, Scotland. He found the hills and valleys as beautiful as the rugged cliffs; the Grampian mountains were majestic and humbling, the rolling Lowlands were gentle and welcoming. He had ridden into England with the king, he had fought and been feted by the Norse; he had traveled to Brittany, Normandy, Paris, and into many of the Spanish and German kingdoms for tournaments; he had seen many fantastic things. But he had never seen anything so wonderful as his first glimpse of Blue Isle.

A week’s ride from Stirling had brought them here, to this high mainland cliff. They might have traveled much more quickly, but they were accompanied by pack animals and wagons bearing wedding gifts and his personal belongings from his rooms at the king’s court, so the ride had been a long one. Ten servants accompanied them, eight strapping young men and twomaids, and ten men-at-arms, including Angus. Jillian rode at Mellyora’s side, her constant companion and protector. Though what Mellyora might need protection from now, he didn’t know. Certainly not him. He had purposely kept himself as busy as possible, and as far as possible from his wife. In turn, through the entirety of the long journey, his new wife had been polite, cool, and aloof. To him. He couldn’t begin to fault her behavior.

He longed to pick her up and shake her—or, with far less chivalry—send her flying.

She was coldly courteous to him; to others, she was charming. She spoke sweetly, properly with all his men, and was equally gentle and courteous with the servants. She raced her horse alongside Thomas, teased Garth about his stubble of beard, set flowers in Sir Harry’s hair. At night, she sang while strumming lightly on a small harp, or moved about, telling more of her tales. She told of the great Pictish war chiefs facing battles with their flesh all painted in blue, told tales of daring Vikings, and a long story, surely taught her by the king’sseneschal, about Kenneth MacAlpin taking the throne of a united Scotland. She was wonderful, captivating. His men-at-arms, just like the servants, sat around the fire in stone silence, watching, listening, with all the enthrallment of little children. She was natural with her stirring tales, she could sway men and women with her words and her passion.So she must be on her isle, he thought.Revered. She was her father’s daughter—the child of a Celtic heiress as well. She was bred to this, she was good at this, and he realized that he hadn’t been generous at all in standing by the marriage even when the king had said that he would set her aside—he had been smart. Taking this isle without her would have meant slaughter.

The thought did not help his temper where she was concerned. Battle lines had been drawn, and it didn’t matter that he had drawn them. She was waging her war all too well.

The first few days, he had managed to ignore her, riding hard to see that the wagon wheels made it over cliffs and through water, slush, and mud. At times, he’d silently taunted himself regarding this land he loved so much—it didn’t seem they had come one flat mile. He was ready to discard his precious bathtub and half his mail, plate, and instruments of war. If he were not in the king’s service …

But he was. And he would be called back into service, because he knew David, and David would press his boundaries against England. David had given him time to establish his hold here, and then he would be called back.

Sometimes, he stood back in the trees as she wove her tales around the campfire, and he watched her, and he thought about the first night he had seen her. Sometimes, he turned away. She had made them enemies. If so, he would see their war to the finish. But it seemed that something painful had begun to plague him, and it made him all the more angry with her, even as she continued with her perfect politeness. Wasn’t courtesy more than he had ever expected? He asked himself at times.

The days had been long; the nights endless. Camping had been wretched. Each night his men had erected them a shelter in the woods. She had gone in first, and he had walked the forest trails before joining her.

She had slept.

He had lain awake. Beside her. He had never touched her. Always, a breath of space remained between them.

And each day, it seemed that his temper simmered to a greater degree. Still, he thought he leashed it well. But how could he yell at her, and long to throttle her, when she had been soft-spoken and entirely courteous?

But now, this …

Atop the ragged, tufted cliff above the place where the land met the water, he could see far across the horizon. At first sight, all seemed peaceful.