Page 23 of His Secret Highland Bride

Instead of going back to their cottage, he belted on his plaid and went the opposite direction. He was a coward. He knew it as he knew his own name. But he couldn’t face Lindsay. She didn’t know how broken he was.

His feet stopped moving when he thought of Maria and the last day he’d left her. A skirmish had broken out on the edge of camp with some French soldiers. Shane had left Maria to go stand with his men. Usually, when he went off to battle, he’d put one of the lads in charge of watching over the women, but this time he hadn’t, for it had risen up quickly. He’d thought only of getting to his men. To have Ronan’s back as his brother had looked after Shane’s since they’d first arrived there.

The battle went on until evening, when he’d moved wearily toward the tent he’d shared with his wife. He blinked the rest of the memory away and turned back toward the cottage. He would not leave Lindsay the way he’d left Maria.

While he wasn’t ready to speak to her, he would watch over her as was his duty as her husband. He climbed a nearby tree that offered a view of the clearing where the cottage set and settled in to stand guard. From his perch, he saw clearly when she stepped out of the house and went to the stream to wash. He averted his gaze, wanting to offer her the privacy she deserved while also making sure no one came upon her unawares.

The dog met up with her, and the two of them had a nice chat—Lindsay asking the mutt where Shane was, and Treun barking her answer. Fortunately, Lindsay didn’t understand and went about breaking her fast and tidying up their small home.

When she went inside, he got down long enough to gather some berries to eat, all the while keeping watch over the woman who’d trusted him to keep her safe. He kept his distance until the sun sank over the horizon and the warm light of the lamp dimmed. He waited a few more minutes before deciding it was safe to go inside.

As he settled on the furs, he wondered what he would do the next day and the next. He couldn’t carry on in this way, forever avoiding his wife because he didn’t want to have a conversation. This was not the way lairds behaved.

He’d just decided he would do better the next day when, like the night before, she surprised him with his soft voice.

“There is more than enough room in the bed for the both of us,” she said.

And damn if his body didn’t urge him to take her up on her offer, but he took control and he shook his head, even knowing she couldn’t see him.

“I’m fine here, lass. You’ll heal faster with plenty of rest.” It was true enough, but even more importantly, she’d heal faster without a man tossing and turning in the bed next to her for being so close to her.

And he’d not be tempted from where he lay on the floor.

It would suit them both better to keep their distance. He understood that a marriage was forever. Or was supposed to be. The priest took measures to make that clear in his message and the vows Shane had spoken. But at the time, he was only thinking of what she needed then. She’d be living with him and needed the protection of his name to do so; otherwise, she’d be ruined. And without his name, he’d be unable to stop anyone else from claiming her and forcing her to leave.

But for the rest of his life, he’d be tied to this woman. And he’d surely not want to spend all his days living like a monk.

He just needed more time.

…

In the morning, Lindsay stayed quiet as Shane gathered his things to leave the cottage. But she stopped him before he could run away for another day.

“Will you come back?” she asked, her voice rough with sleep.

“Aye,” he answered with a nod as well. “I’m going to wash and check my snares, but I’ll return.”

She nodded. It was a new day. She’d spent the day before allowing her mind to run wild. She thought of all the ways she might not measure up to Shane’s first wife. But, eventually, she realized it was all for naught. She couldn’t change anything. Nor would she, if she had known before they wed.

When she’d been hurt, Shane had helped her, even married her to make sure she was safe and cared for. Shane was hurt as well. While his injuries weren’t easily seen, they were there. Deep wounds that might never heal. But Lindsay would stay and help him and make sure he was safe. If that meant listening when he wished to speak and not asking questions when he didn’t, that was what she would do.

When he returned with a rabbit to break their fast, she took it from him with a soft smile and went about cooking it for them. She talked about other things. Easy things. And soon she felt him settle and calm.

Over the next few weeks, she and Shane settled into a peaceful existence. The bruises on her arms turned from purple to yellow and then faded into nothing as she healed. She moved around as she always had without wincing or gasping.

Every morning, Shane went to check his traps as she gathered water and started their morning meal. She’d found a few bushes that supplied enough berries for tarts, and she laughed when he ate them down quickly from years of fighting his siblings for the sweets.

They spent their days working side by side, making the small cottage a more comfortable home. Some days, Shane would go to the village to meet with Doran for his training. And in the evening, they’d sit by the fire and read from the few books they owned or share stories with each other.

They never spoke of Maria except for the nights when Shane woke her while calling out her name in pain. Lindsay waited for him to explain, but he never did. She couldn’t have asked for anything more. At least until night came and it was time for bed. Then a strange awkwardness fell between them. Uncomfortable silence slithered in as she went behind the screen he’d fashioned for her to change.

From there, she’d slip into the bed while he doused the candles. In the darkness, she could hear him unbuckle his belt and was taunted by the soft sound of his plaid hitting the floor. She listened for the hiss of linen as he pulled his shirt off but didn’t hear it. She imagined he slept in his shirt and wondered if that was how he preferred to sleep.

Nothing about their nightly arrangement was how she preferred. She hated to think of Shane sleeping on the hard floor after everything he’d done for her. He’d given her his name, his protection, and now his bed.

And perhaps that wasn’t the only reason she wanted him to sleep next to her. Her new husband was pleasing to look at, and she was curious about what it would be like to kiss him—and do more. She’d gathered all her courage to mention the room in the bed that night, insinuating she’d like him to join her.

But in the silence that practically smothered her after his rejection, her heart had pounded so loud she wondered if he could hear it from across the room where he lay. She’d assumed he was waiting for her to heal. But in the last few days, she’d mentioned many times how wonderful she felt to be back to her old self. And yet, each night she slept alone on the bed that should have been theirs.