Page 59 of The Outlaw's Bride
Silence followed him.
Caitrin waited a few moments, before she pinned Adaira with a hard look. “Please tell me ye haven’t lain with him?”
Adaira held her gaze. Her first instinct was to deny the accusation—what business was it of Caitrin’s anyway? But then stubbornness intervened. She’d not lie or pretend she was ashamed of what had passed between her and Lachlann.
However, she didn’t need to say anything. Her face told the whole story.
Caitrin groaned and ran a hand over her face. “Satan’s Cods, no!” Her sister then crossed to the mantelpiece and poured herself a goblet of wine, which she took a large gulp from before turning on Adaira. “Why?”
“Because I wanted to.”
“But hebetrayedye.” Caitrin shook her head as if she couldn’t believe her ears. “He gave ye to his father … a man who would have made ye his whore.”
The harshness of her sister’s words made Adaira flinch. Caitrin had changed. Time was, she’d never have said such things. “Morgan Fraser never touched me.”
Caitrin glared at her. Her face was ashen, high spots of color upon her cheek bones. “Aye … but his son has.”
“And I welcomed his touch.”
“Ye are too trusting. Rhona and I always warned ye that some man would take advantage of it … and the worst sort has!”
“Enough!” Adaira’s temper finally snapped. Caitrin spoke to her as if she was an empty-headed goose. She’d not tolerate it a moment longer. “Ye think ye know me, but ye don’t. I have the wits to know a good man from a bad one.”
Caitrin’s eyes grew huge, and she drew back as if Adaira had just slapped her. “I’m just trying to protect ye,” she replied, a rasp to her voice. “I thought ye were dead. And then ye turn up alive and well, with this awful tale. How do ye expect me to react?”
“I expect ye to listen to me. To trust my word.”
“But that man’s a Fraser! He’s—”
“Going to be my husband. He loves me, Caitrin.”
Adaira moved over to the hearth and sank down into a chair. Her legs felt weak. Caitrin muttered an oath and took a seat opposite. Her fingers clenched around the stem of the goblet she clutched. Watching her, Adaira noted the lines of tension that bracketed her sister’s mouth. Despite that he’d been dead over three months now, her marriage to Baltair MacDonald had taken its toll. Adaira had little idea of what Caitrin had endured during the two years she’d been wedded, for her eldest sister kept her own counsel, yet the change in Caitrin spoke volumes.
“Love is the easy part,” Caitrin murmured, staring into the fire. “But what happens when ye are living rough, eight months gone with a bairn? Will love fill yer belly and keep ye warm when ye are both living on gruel in the midst of winter?”
“Lachlann knows how to survive,” Adaira replied tightly, “and I’m not completely useless either.”
Caitrin favored her with a condescending look that made Adaira’s anger rise once more. Caitrin had often resorted to such expressions when Adaira said or did things she thought immature.
Leaning forward, Adaira held her sister’s eye boldly. “I’m not who I was, Caitrin. I’ll never be a lady now … not like ye.” Her voice was low and steady, even if her heart raced. “For the first time in my life I can choose my own path. Ye of all people should understand what that means.”
Caitrin stared back at her. The scorn drained from her face, replaced by a fragility Adaira had never seen before. Her eyes glistened, and for a moment it seemed she would weep. Then, Caitrin inhaled deeply, mastering her reaction. “But are ye sure of him?” she asked finally, a husky edge to her voice. “I also know what it means to make the wrong choice.”
“Lachlann understands me, and I know he’ll keep me safe.” Adaira’s mouth curved into a soft smile. “I’m happy to be an outlaw’s bride.”
Lachlann stared at Caitrin, shock filtering through him. “We have yer blessing?”
Caitrin loosed a sigh before nodding. “Adaira and I have spoken … at length … and although I still don’t fully understand her choice, I will respect it—for her sake.”
The evening was drawing out, and the three of them sat at the table in Caitrin’s solar. A simple supper of bread, cheese, salted pork, and apples lay before them. Lachlann had warily taken his seat at the table, expecting another attack from the Lady of Duntulm. But instead, she’d informed him that he could stay on, and that she no longer opposed their marriage.
Lachlann cast Adaira a look of disbelief. What magic had she woven here?
In response, Adaira flashed Lachlann a small smile before reaching across and placing her hand over his. Lachlann turned his hand over and laced his fingers through Adaira’s. Then he turned his attention back to Caitrin, meeting her eye. “I do love yer sister.”
Caitrin pursed her lips. “So she says.”
“Iwillmake her my wife.”
