Page 43 of When a Warrior Woos a Lass
“I need the Steward’s support now,” his father interrupted. “I kinnae kill his brother without his consent, but if he dunnae give it, there are other ways to make a man atone for his actions.”
Anger roiled through Alex. He had to make his father understand the sort of grotesque man Gillis was. Alex had been spared the worst by his father’s arrival, but what of the other apprentices who would not be so lucky should Gillis not be banned from training them? And what of Ginny’s lost life?
“Gillis is evil, Father. He—”
“Dunnae ever speak of what has happened!” his father roared, the words lashing through Alex like sharp blades. “Ye will be laird, and this—” his father waved a hand at Gillis, Ginny, and even Alex “—shows weakness. Ye kinnae reveal weakness. Bury it. Behave as if it is nae there, even as ye dunnae ever forget it, so ye will nae ever allow yerself to be here again. Ask yerself nightly before sleep how ye could have prevented all that came to pass.”
“But what of Ginny?” Alex demanded, shamed and angry. “I kinnae simply wipe her from my memory as if she did nae exist. Ginny—”
“Alex!”
He jerked awake at the sound of Lena calling his name. Fear hit him hard as he turned to find his wife on her knees beside him, a concerned look on her face. “Did I hurt ye?” he asked, sweeping his gaze over her thin léine, her arms, legs, chest, and then to her face.
She shook her head. “Nay. Ye did nay hurt me, Alex. Ye woke me with cries of Thomas and Ginny in yer sleep.” Her probing eyes demanded answers, despite her not asking any questions.
The remnants of his dream—the shame and his father’s words—came to him as he slid off the bed to put distance between him and Lena. In the moment, he was no match for his wife’s will. He was weary, beaten down by the lack of sleep and the burdens of his past.
“Who is Thomas?” she asked softly.
He clenched his jaw on the memories.
After a long moment of silence, Lena sighed. “’Tis the second time ye have cried the name Ginny in yer sleep, too. Who is she to ye?” Lena set her hands on her hips. “Did ye love her? Do ye still?”
His own frustration exploded within him. He swung around to face Lena. “Ginny and Thomas are two people I failed inexcusably. Grievously.” The memories pounded at him with relentless blows. “I did nae love Ginny, but I cared for her. She was my friend. She was the first lass I had interest in, and her interest in me led to her death.” He heard himself bellowing, and he hated it, hated that he’d raised his voice to Lena. But she was pushing too hard, asking too much. “Ye are the only woman I have ever loved,” he growled, “but ye must cease asking me about my past!”
He saw the hurt flash across her face, and he could not take it. He stormed out of her bedchamber and went to his own, slamming his door with a resounding thud only to have it burst open directly after it had closed.
“Ye kinnae shut me out!” she yelled.
He turned to Lena. Her eyes blazed with anger and concern, and her hair framed her face in wild disarray. He wanted to bury himself within her, soaking up the comfort her body offered, but he knew well she’d not welcome his touch at the moment. He craved it anyway and found himself closing the distance between them, slipping his hand around her neck, and drawing her in for a kiss.
She pulled back, then stepped away, a scowl on her face. “I dunnae wish ye to kiss me.”
“Then depart,” he said, hearing the terseness of his tone. “I dunnae have words to give ye, only my need for ye.”
“Alex!” His name was a broken sob from her lips that made him flinch. “We kinnae grow close when ye hide so much from me. Ye will kill our love!” Tears trickled down her cheeks.
Her words hit like daggers, piercing his pride, his anger, his very soul. He was trapped in his own room, in his own skin, and he began to pace the length of his bedchamber to combat the feeling. “What do ye want from me?” he demanded, though he knew. God above, did he know! “Ye wish me to lay my soul bare for ye? Lay out all my failures and weaknesses so ye may sift through them? What ye find will nae please ye! It will drive ye away from me!”
“Alex, nay!” she cried. She tried to grasp his arm as he stalked back and forth, but he shrugged her off and kept moving. “Alex,” she said, her voice booming behind him. He turned to face her. “I laid my soul bare for ye.” Desperation and anger punctuated her words. “Ye did nae run from me and my failures. Why do ye believe I’d be different? Why do ye believe I’m nae strong enough to face what ye hide?”
What she said burrowed into his mind, making him doubt and hope at once, but he could not chance it. He shook his head, wanting to end this discussion. He needed distance to regain his composure and his calm. “Dunnae ask me to bare my soul when ye still hide things from me, too,” he flung out. “Ye want every morsel of my trust, but ye dunnae have enough in me to tell me what vexes ye, to come to me for advice.”
Her face turned white, and she gasped. “Ye read my letter to my brother!” Her accusatory tone offered no apologies for her own betrayal, which served to stoke his discontent to an inferno.
“Aye, I read yer letter,” he said. “’Tis my responsibility as laird to ken all that occurs in my clan. Ye did nae come to me with word of yer sister’s treachery. Ye went behind my back to reach out to yer brother.” He expected her to argue, to deny it, to say something that would further fuel his irritation with her and himself, but she simply stared at him, her pain and misery etched on her face. A choking anguish gripped him.
The silence between them grew heavy until she finally spoke. “I’m sorry,” she said, the apology simple yet genuine. “I should have told ye. I should have come to ye. Ye read it, so ye ken I told Iain that I dunnae believe ye’d ever join forces with the Steward. I dunnae believe ye capable of being a traitor.”
The truth burned the tip of his tongue. He swallowed it back. “I pray ye keep that faith in me,” he said. “Now please, Wife, leave me alone to sleep.”
Misery swept across her features, burning in her eyes and tugging her mouth into a frown. She circled her arms around her waist, looking frail and fragile, and making him certain that protecting her from the truth was the only way forward. “I’ll depart,” she whispered, “but ken this: Ye are building walls between us, Alex. Walls that will divide us and rip us apart, if nae physically, then in spirit.”
She left him, and the moment the door shut, he fell backward onto his bed. He stared at the ceiling, thinking upon what she had said and his past. He feared she was correct in her assessment, yet he saw no other way to proceed.
Lena had waited as long as she was willing to for Alex to come to her to address things between them. It was nearing midafternoon, and still, he had not knocked on her bedchamber door. Clearly, he was not going to. She moved to her window, in need of fresh air to clear her head. Pushing back the drape, she glanced into the courtyard and blinked in surprise at the bustle of activity below, as well as who she saw gathered there. Marsaili was standing by a horse, holding its reins, and beside her was Munroe MacLean, who seemed to be tying satchels to his horse. Then he turned and tied one to Marsaili’s horse.
A terrible suspicion sank into the pit of Lena’s stomach. Dear God above! Was Alex going to the Steward and taking Marsaili with him? Had Marsaili been correct that Alex was planning to betray King David? She couldn’t believe it. She refused to believe it! She was going to find her husband, confront him, and learn the truth of the matter once and for all.
