Page 49 of The Runaway Bride and the Highlander
“It’s nae as easy as that, Bram. I married her because the council decided she needed tae be married.”
“Ye married her because ye wanted tae,” his brother corrected. “I was there when ye fought them on it. Nae one forced ye intae this situation, Max. Ye took it upon yerself. That lass has been under yer skin from the first night ye met her. Sooner or later, ye’re going tae have tae accept how ye feel for her.”
They had now finished their second glass and were downing their third. The whisky caused a warm glow inside, and Maxwell already felt a little better, calmer. But even at that, he didn’t want to hear what Bram was telling him. He was doing what was best for him and Skylar; she just didn’t know it yet.
He needed to get her out of his head, out of his heart. Keeping his distance hadn’t helped. Maybe there was another way. Maxwell pushed himself to a standing position and left the glass on the table that sat between them.
“I ken ye’re trying tae help, Bram, and I’m grateful for yer advice. But I have tae do this my way.”
Bram sighed. “Aye, ye always do, brother. Yer stubbornness is a predictable trait we’ve all become well used tae. So, tell me,” he said, now standing and watching as Maxwell made his way to the study door, “what are ye going tae do?”
“I’m going tae do something tae get my wife out o’ my head. If I cannae protect her, I need at least tae try and protect myself.” Maxwell turned from him then and left the study in search of Caelan.
The pretty maid arrived at Maxwell’s bedchamber about a half hour later. Caelan had questioned Maxwell about his request, but in the end, Maxwell had been forceful enough that his advisor had conceded.
“I’ll find a maid for ye if that’s what ye really want, my laird,” Calean had said, a slight sadness in his tone.
His advisor likely judged him for his request, but Maxwell did not care. None of them knew what he was suffering. The fear of his affection for Skylar was slowly killing him, and the only solution was to rid himself of his feelings for her altogether. Perhaps laying with another woman would do just that.
She was younger than he would have liked, but Caelan had done his best, for she had a pretty face and silky dark hair.
“Come in,” he said, waving her further into the room.
The maid entered, clearly a little nervous, and after closing the door behind her, she walked directly over to him. Caelan had evidently told her why she was being sent for, and perhaps, for fear of displeasing Maxwell, she did not waste any time. She placed her hands upon his chest and rubbed his body, slow and steady movements. Gazing up at him, she smiled and reached up to kiss him.
In that second, Maxwell suddenly felt sick to his stomach.
What the hell are ye doing?
Taking her by the shoulders, he pushed her away. The maid looked completely confused, as well she might, for she had been instructed to come to the laird’s bedchambers for one purpose alone. Yet, it was only now that Maxwell knew this had been a mistake, and the realization of his loyalty to Skylar surprised him.
“Please, get out, lass,” he demanded.
The maid, still looking confused and stunned, appeared bewildered and in such a disconcerted state did not move straight away.
“I said get out,” Maxwell repeated. “Now, lass.”
As though someone had shaken her, she suddenly nodded. “Aye… aye, my laird,” she blurted, turning and hurrying to the door. Maxwell followed her, though he was uncertain why. Perhaps he wanted to make sure she left the room fully. His actions and reactions had surprised him, and he needed time alone, time to think.
Opening the door for the maid to leave, Maxwell was stunned even further to see Skylar standing outside. She looked at the maid hurrying from his room, and then her angry glare fell on him.
God damnit.
CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE
Maxwell watched as Skylar raised her hand, but he didn’t stop her, even though he could have. Her hand whipped against his face, the harsh slap matching the stinging sensation across his cheek. He deserved it, he knew it. In fact, he deserved more than just a slap, but he had to let her know that nothing had happened. He had not betrayed her, even though it might have appeared that he had.
“I swear, Skylar,” Maxwell began, holding his hands up defensively. “Naething happened. I didnae even touch the lass.”
“Och, dinnae lie tae me,” Skylar spat, striding into his bedchamber and slamming the door shut behind her. “Ye expect me tae believe that ye had a pretty young maid alone in yer bedchamber and naething happened? Her face was flushed red, Maxwell. I may be innocent in some things, but I ken what that means.”
“She was probably embarrassed when she found ye standing outside the door,” Maxwell tried to explain. “Ye are my wife after all.”
“Am I, Maxwell? Sometimes I wonder what that even means tae ye. She might have been embarrassed, but clearly, ye’re nae, are ye? Ye can do anything ye like without having tae worry about the consequences because ye’re the laird of the castle,” she spat sarcastically.
“I will admit tae ye,” he continued, “I did have Caelan send her up tae me. But it was a mistake. When it came down tae it, I couldnae go through with it.”
Skylar gasped, clearly horrified at his confession and in her justifiable anger tried to lift her hand to his face again. Maxwell caught it this time and, staring down at her intently, tried to tell her with his eyes that it was the truth. She stared back at him, not breaking eye contact for a long moment before eventually snatching her hand out of his grasp and turning away from him.
