Page 45 of A Wife for the Highland Villain
Alasdair blinked. “I daenae understand.”
Nathan exhaled. “Me Laird, I am saying these men are cunning. Ye may think they are on yer side and that they have yer best interests at heart. But by the time ye realize they have been against ye the whole time and want nothing but yer death, it might be too late.”
A tense silence ensued, and Alasdair’s eyes narrowed. “So what did Jeremiah do, then?”
“He changed,” Nathan responded. “He gave them patience and silence when they wanted nothing but fury. He let them believe they had the sharper tongue, but in truth, it was he who weighed every word. He spoke little, but when he did, it was final. They couldnae twist it. They couldnae turn it. And in time, they grew to fear him more than they feared his sword.”
Alasdair leaned back against the edge of the tub, his jaw tight as Nathan’s words sank into him like stone. After a long while, he exhaled, long and slow.
“And ye think patience will change them?”
“I think it will unnerve them,” Nathan replied firmly. “Ye cannae meet fire with fire. If ye lose yer temper, they will say ye are unfit. If ye let them strike, and ye answer only when it matters, they will see that their barbs cannae pierce ye. That frightens men like them more than any blade.”
Alasdair sat in silence, his hands still gripping the edge of the tub until his knuckles whitened. His groin still throbbed, but his mind began to settle. “Ye may be right.”
“I am, me Laird,” Nathan said quietly. “I watched yer braither interact with them. He always kept his calm and never let them see his anger. Do the same, and they will learn that ye arenae a man to be swayed or broken.”
Alasdair let out a slow breath. “I thank ye for yer counsel.”
Nathan shifted. “Shall I wait for ye, in case ye wish to ride out later this morning?”
Alasdair looked down at the water; he was still hard. His jaw tightened. “Go on ahead. I will join ye later.”
Nathan bowed his head. “Aye, me Laird.” He turned to the door, then paused. “Forgive me for speaking so plainly.”
“There is nothing to forgive,” Alasdair said. “Now, go.”
Nathan nodded and left, closing the door behind him.
Silence fell again, and Alasdair leaned forward with his head in his hands. His body was still burning. He groaned low and slid deeper into the water, letting it cover his chest, neck, and face. The cold stung him, but at least it dulled the ache.
When he rose for breath, water streamed down his face. The ache had lessened, but it was not gone. He leaned back against the tub and closed his eyes.
It was only morning, and Lily was already affecting him this much. He needed to get it under control.
When he finished his bath and wore his clothes, he stepped out and crossed the passageway with steady steps, his jaw tight, though he told himself to relax.
He stopped before her chamber door and raised his hand. His knuckles struck the wood with a dull thud that echoed through the passageway, and he waited.
He heard the soft tread of her feet on the other side, then the knob twisted. The door opened, and she stood there, her hair falling loose over her shoulders. He studied her face and how the light from her chamber cast a glow on it.
For the briefest of moments, he forgot what he wanted to say.
She remained in the doorway, her eyes narrowed, until he finally remembered why he had come.
“May I come in?” he asked.
She stepped aside without a word, and he entered.
The air inside was warmer, and the smell of herbs and soap filled his nose. His eyes swept across the chamber. He studied the bed, which was neatly made, and spotted the cloak draped over the chair. Then, his eyes returned to the open window and finally to her.
“Where is Daisy?” he asked.
“She is off eating breakfast,” Lily responded, her voice clear.
His eyebrow rose. “Eating? She left her post so early?”
She folded her arms across her chest. “I ordered her to eat. I willnae have a maid fainting beside me because she works on an empty stomach.”
