Page 67 of Sweet Home Highlander
Shewaslost to him then.
He’d left Paris without announcing his arrival, his heart nothing more than a gaping hole in his chest. But her betrayal had lit a fire within him to become someone, to prove to her, and to himself, that her absence had no effect. That he could live without her as easily as she had chosen to live without him. Thrive, even. And he had…until she’d come slithering back.
Niall watched his wife now. She’d lain beneath him, her eyes drowned in passion, her lips and thighs parted to receive him, and it had all been a bloody lie.
“You came back for me?” she whispered, closing the distance between them, her fingers reaching up to touch his face.
Niall fought against leaning into the caress, giving into the fresh memories of last night, and held himself like stone. Her scent invaded his nostrils, reminding him of the smell of her heated skin as pleasure overtook her senses. And other things, like the curl of her fingers into his back as she’d cried out in ecstasy and the clench of her muscles as she’d come around him.
Lies.All of them. And more fool he to have trusted her.
Steeling himself, Niall stepped away from her, his expression dispassionate. “Clearly, that was a mistake. Ye dunnae belong here, Aisla. Ye never did.”
“Niall, please—”
Ignoring her, he glanced at Leclerc whose own face was inscrutable, though his eerily pale eyes remained sharp and perceptive. His usual smirk played about his lips, and Niall had the strongest urge to punch it off.
He met the man’s eyes. “Ye’re welcome to her with my blessing. Now get the hell off my land.” He then turned to his wife, his heart shriveling in his chest. “Both of ye.”
He strode away without a backward glance.
Chapter Seventeen
Aisla was still numb when she reached her chamber at Tarben Castle, slamming the door behind her.
“My lady?” Pauline stood up from where she had been darning a chemise before the hearth. She took one look at Aisla and gasped, “Mon Dieu!What has happened?”
Aisla took a few wobbling steps forward, the floor feeling more like the roiling surface of a loch. Pauline rushed to her, and guided her to sit on the bench at the foot of the bed. The moment she was still, everything she’d been holding inside since the folly broke. Aisla put her face into her hands, and sobbed, unable to answer Pauline. Unable to do anything other than feel the jagged pain ripping through her, tearing her apart.
At the folly, the cold look in Niall’s eyes had sunken into her like lead. He hadn’t even given her the chance to explain—he’d turned on her just as quickly as he’d accused her of turning on him. It was impossible. She’d been a fanciful nitwit to believe he’d ever be able to overcome his feelings of mistrust and jealousy.
The moment Niall had left the folly, Julien had insisted she go straight to Maclaren with him, but Aisla had refused. The excuses were paltry, thin as a length of muslin. Her things were at Tarben Castle. Her maid. She would gather them as calmly as she could and then retreat to Maclaren. It would take no more than an hour, she promised Julien, who had then insisted that he accompany her for the task.
“No,” she’d told him, her stomach jumping and turning at the idea. Niall had ordered Julien to get off his land…he’d ordered both of them to leave…and while she didn’t fear for her own safety, she did fear for Julien’s if Niall were to catch him at the castle. She’d seen him fight with a claymore and bare knuckled. In his condition, he would not spare a thought for Julien’s welfare. Julien, who possessed a hot temper himself beneath all the layers of charm, would without a doubt rise to the occasion, and neither did she want Niall hurt.
“One hour, Aisla,” Julien had replied, “or I will blacken his doorstep, regardless of his threats.”
He’d gone then, back to Maclaren, unquestionably to begin packing his own things. Aisla had waited a few more minutes, so that on her ride back to Tarben Castle, she would not risk seeing Niall’s or Fenella’s backs.
The woman made her seethe with fury, even now as she sat upon the bench in her chamber, her eyes swollen from tears. Fenella had led Niall to the folly, manipulated his penchant for jealousy, just as she’d done when they’d been newly married. Still, as malicious as Fenella was, the fact that Niall could fall for it so easily was the reason Aisla could barely stand. If he couldn’t see past Fenella’s lies now, after all this time, he never would. He’dneverbe able to trust her.
Pauline bustled about the chamber, a steady barrage of French streaming from her mouth as she emptied the wardrobe and filled open valises on the bed. It wasn’t a neat or orderly packing, but neither of them cared. The objective was to leave Tarben Castle as quickly as possible, and then to depart Maclaren for good by the afternoon. The sooner she left, the better. She’d bid Makenna and Lady Dunrannoch goodbye, and then…it would be over. The divorce would be settled through solicitors and correspondence.
Just as she’d wanted from the start.
Only now, why did the knowledge that it was about to end in her favor feel so much like agony instead?
“Here, my lady,” Pauline said as she stopped before Aisla, who still sat upon the cushioned bench in abject lassitude. Her arms and legs felt like ship anchors, and even taking the cool, wet cloth from Pauline was a struggle. “For your eyes,” her maid explained.
Of course. The tears had made them puffy and red. Aisla could feel their soreness, and her maid would have guessed that she would not want to be seen departing Tarben Castle looking so defeated and wretched. She had her pride, if nothing else.
“Thank you,” she whispered, pressing the cool cloth to her eyes. “And you were right. I should have listened to you about meeting with Julien.”
Pauline had warned her that if Niall caught wind of the meeting, it might end badly. For the first time, Aisla wondered if it had been more than just a little intuition on her maid’s part. She lowered the cloth and looked at Pauline.
“How did you know he would find out?”
Pauline paused in laying a gown into one of the open valises. “I did not know, my lady, but I suspected the housekeeper would discover it, somehow, and relay the information. You must understand that she has been tasking everyone in the laird’s employ here to spy on you. To alert her to your every action, especially missives to Maclaren. I tried to leave Tarben Castle unnoticed, but I must have been seen. I apologize, my lady.”
