Page 42 of To Winter at Wildsyde

She hesitated, and he made a sound of distress. “Holy God, what have ye done now?”

“Oh, no,” she said, shaking her head, but unable to hide her disquiet. “It’s nothing like… like this, but, well… I have no idea how you’ll feel about it. I mean, I know what you’ll say, but I suspect what you say and what you really feel are not at all the same thing.”

He glared at her. “Ye talk in riddles.”

“No, I don’t,” she said, holding his gaze. “You understand me well enough. Come along, I want to have your opinion.”

Ruth held out her hand to him and he came forward but did not take it, opening the door for her instead and gesturing for her to lead the way. She did not take offence, aware he was allowing her this much and knowing she could not push him too far, too fast.

She led him back up the stairs, wondering if she was making a huge mistake but it was too late now. There was not a huge amount to see when they got to the room. It had been stripped and cleaned, the chimney and the glass in the window repaired, and the stone walls freshly plastered. Ruth held her breath as Gordy’s eyes immediately found the item she had brought him here to see, symbolic of everything she was trying to tell him. Ruth closed the door behind them, watching him intently, her heart thudding.

His head snapped around, staring at her. “Are ye—”

“Oh, no,” she said quickly, too quickly, realising what he’d assumed. “Not yet.”

She thought perhaps his posture relaxed a fraction, but it was impossible to be certain.

“It’s a lovely room, don’t you think? Nice and bright. I wondered if maybe… maybe you’d like to help me choose some things to furnish it? The cradle was a present from my aunt,” she added with a rueful smile.

He was silent as he walked across the room and stared down at the cradle. It was made of rosewood and designed to rock. The headboard was carved with flower filled baskets. Gordy nudged it with a finger and it swung back and forth. It looked made to hold something impossibly small when viewed against the imposing figure of her husband. When he eventually spoke, the words were hardly a surprise.

“Yer not staying, lass. It changes nothing.” There was a finality to the statement she would have been foolish not to heed, but Ruth put up her chin.

“I am staying. You never told me you’d make me leave once I was pregnant and I want to stay. I want to stay with you. I want us to be a family, the family you never had. I know we’re both making a mess of things. I know I’m making a mess of things but I’ve never done this before either, Gordy. I need your help. I need you.” She held her breath, knowing she’d said too much but knowing she’d had to. If she was too frightened to speak her mind he’d never understand what she was feeling. He said nothing, never turning to look at her and she tried again, wishing he’d give, just a little. “This is my home and you are my husband. I will not leave you, whether or not there is a child.”

He stiffened at her words, the tension running through him perfectly visible now as he grew very still. There was a taut silence before he looked back at her. “Of course ye will.”

There was bitterness there, so obvious that her heart ached for him.

She watched him turn to leave but Ruth ran to the door, standing in front of it and halting his departure.

“You can’t make me leave.”

There was a dismissive snort at that idea.

“You might force me into a carriage,” she said, every bit as stubborn as him. “But you cannot stop me from coming back again. What will you do? Barricade the castle, make me sleep on the cold ground outside the gates? I will, you know.”

“Ye are nae right in the heid, lass,” he said, giving her a pitying look.

“You don’t frighten me, you big lummox.” Ruth gave him a push, which was as utterly pointless as pushing at the castle walls.

“Then ye are more foolish than I supposed,” he growled, glaring down at her.

She huffed, meeting his look with one as uncompromising as his. “You are all bark and no bite. You growl and snarl like a dog with a bone, and then you come to my bed and make love to me, and undo all of your good work.”

He laughed at that. “Ye should nae confuse a man’s desire to enjoy the pleasures of the marriage bed with affection, lass. I have never cared for an unwilling lover and, if I’m to get a child on ye, it serves no purpose to have ye fight me.”

“It’s more than that,” she insisted, though doubt pricked her all the same. “I know you feel something for me.”

“Aye, I feel ye are a blessed nuisance, and I’ll be well rid of ye once ye are breeding, and I will be rid of ye. Perhaps I shall have ye committed until the bairn comes, to be certain ye do not return when yer nae welcome.”

It was cruel, intentionally so, and Ruth blinked back tears. He’s doing it on purpose, she reminded herself. He doesn’t trust you; he thinks you will leave him alone, like everyone else left him. Yet it was a hard thing to remember in the face of such hurtful words.

“You would lock me up for loving you?” she asked, her voice quiet, and yet the words seemed to echo about the room like a gunshot. He stared at her, his sharp intake of breath revealing everything his carefully neutral expression kept hidden from her.

“Ye dinnae love me,” he said, scornful now, though she saw that flash of confusion, of vulnerability before he could hide it. “And the novelty of living in the wilds with yer brutish Highlander will pall soon enough, but take heart, I’ll give ye tales enough to exchange with yer fine friends. Shall I take ye here, up against the wall? Or perhaps I should drag ye to the stables by yer hair and have my way with ye in the straw? Would ye like that?”

Despite knowing what he was doing, reducing her feelings for him to nothing more than lust, she could not fight the flush that betrayed her desire.