Page 30 of The Cruel Highlander's Bride
Magnus gritted his teeth but then nodded and motioned for her to enter. He so desperately did not want her here for this. He did not want her to witness his failures.
But she’d left him no choice. He couldn’t very well turn her away now, not when he wanted his people to think everyone in the clan had a voice. And not after she’d announced herself like that.
He sighed and dragged himself back to his chair. He’d placed it in front of his desk in the hope that it would make the women feel more comfortable, but all it had done was put him up close and personal to their misery and his failings.
Ciara, on the other hand, strode into the study, with her head high. Ewan quickly pulled out another chair for her, and she gracefully sat at Magnus’s side. Her presence was comforting, even though Magnus wished she was not there to witness this.
The women from the village watched her warily, but no one said anything. The room was silent for a few minutes.
“Would ye mind catchin’ me up on what I missed?” Ciara eventually asked the eldest of the women with a small, understanding smile. To Magnus, it seemed as friendly but empathetic. It was also more words than he had spoken this entire audience.
He was struck by the bravery of his betrothed. These women had to know who she was, by now. And she had just thrown herself in front of them as a representative of her father’s clan. Magnus released another harsh breath.
The old woman studied Ciara carefully before she summarized what they’d discussed in the last few minutes.
Magnus watched as Ciara paled with each new horror these women recounted, each story of loss and heartache, but she kept her spine straight and listened attentively to them.
When the old woman finished, she folded her hands in her lap and said, “And we have yer family to blame for all of that.”
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Ciara tried not to flinch at the woman’s words, but the jab had landed as intended. Her familywasto blame, at least partially, for the losses these women had endured.
“Nay,” the Laird suddenly snapped. “If ye’re goin’ to blame anyone, ye can blame me. I’m yer Laird.”
Ciara’s heart swelled a little at the protectiveness in his voice, but anger wouldn’t change the villagers’ minds, and it certainly wouldn’t help them. Besides, Ciara wasn’t certain her family was wholly blameless.
Could they have tried harder to end this feud once Magnus took over? They hadn’t even made contact in the last year, too disheartened by their failures in the past and their own losses. If they had just reached out sooner, could some of the losses on both sides have been prevented?
She squirmed a little in her seat. Why had he brought his chair so close to the villagers? Ciara wished for just the smallest amount of distance. This close, she could see their wrinkles and greying hair and the way their cheeks were just a little too hollowed.
Ciara couldn’t sit still, and she grounded herself by digging her nails slightly into her palms. There was a balance between appearing sympathetic and being overcome by emotions, and she was desperately trying to straddle that line.
It was different for Magnus, of course, as he sat stoically beside her. He could remain unemotional, and no one would blink an eye.
Listening to these women’s stories had humbled her so quickly. Losing their husbands and their sons… Ciara couldn’t even imagine the pain they’d endured and continued to endure.
Her plan to get the Laird’s attention seemed so childish now. There were people here with real problems, problems that she and Magnus were responsible for now. Whatever heartache she was feeling over the man could wait.
Sitting in this room, confronted by these women’s grief, she understood why the Laird had looked so overcome when he’d answered the door. The sight of his obvious distress had made her rear back slightly.
Was she really ready to face these women? Especially when they had caused the Laird to look likethat. The color had drained from his face, and his eyes held so much sorrow. He was quick to school his expression, but she’d seen the way this affected him.
She’d come here on a mission, though, and she’d resolved to see it through, so she had walked into his study with as much false bravado as she could muster. With each new story that the women told, her shoulders dropped just a little more.
Ciara thought of her family, safe at home, and of her sister, here with her. She thought of all of them around the fire in her father’s study and took a minute to thank God for those blessings.
If the villagers needed to put some of the blame on her… well, that was their prerogative. But the Laird clearly didn’t agree because he looked ready to defend her honor. She put out a hand to stop him.
“Magnus, it’s all right.” She took a deep, steadying breath. “Me family’s clan is responsible for a lot of the horrors ye have lived through,” she acknowledged, turning towards the women, holding their gazes. “Just as yer clan is responsible for the horrors that the people in me family’s clan had lived through.”
“There has been loss on both sides. The MacLeon name was always a curse in me parents’ household. We have each inflicted deep and irreparable pain on each other for so many years, and I cannae change that. What I can change is what is happenin’ now. So, I think we should focus on how we can help today,” she finished with a big exhale.
Her hands shook slightly, and she clenched them into fists. Magnus and the entire room had gone silent during her speech. She could feel Magnus’s gaze on the side of her face, but she couldn’t make herself look at him. She didn’t want to see his reaction right now, didn’t think she could handle it if he was angry or disappointed.
Did I overstep?
She had to look, she decided, needing to see if Magnus was on her side. Shyly, she looked to her right. The Laird was staring at her with something like awe, and she finally released the breath she’d been holding.
