Page 32 of The Cruel Highlander's Bride
She was looking at him with wide eyes and such innocent optimism. If only she knew what was going through his cursed mind. Because it wasn’t a solution for their people.
Her face held the hope that they were in this together and they were going to save the day. But Magnus knew better. He wasn’t a savior.
That’s not what he did. Try as he might, all he’d ever brought to the people in his life was suffering and death. His mother would never have been cast out of the castle if not for him. There was a lot to be said about his father, but if not for Magnus, he would still be alive as well.
Ciara, too, would be safe at home, away from his monstrosity. And these women… well, maybe his father would have found a way to help them in the end.
His betrothed could look at him with as much hope as she wanted, but Magnus was the villain here, the cause of the problem—or at the very least complacent in it—not the solution.
Everyone in the room had turned towards him, waiting for some brilliant idea to help the villagers. But he couldn’t think past his own failures or beyond Ciara. Both things were taking up equal space in his mind. The longer the pause stretched out, the more his palms began to sweat.
Maybe he should stand. Maybe the movement would kick start his mind and get it to conjure something useful for once.
When the seconds turned into minutes, his betrothed finally spoke up again.
“What do ye think about the idea we talked about?” she asked.
Magnus stared back at her, unsure where she was heading with this. She widened her eyes at him, urging him to speak.
“Aye, the idea, that could work…” he trailed off.
Ciara turned back to the women. “We were talkin’ about relyin’ on our allies for help, and we were thinkin’ we could use some of the funds in the treasury to hire people from other clans to work the fields. Maybe it’ll even result in some marriages—really bring back the vibrancy to the village,” she explained with a laugh.
Her laugh was strained with the lie, but Magnus doubted anyone else heard it. In fact, the room joined in, chuckling and nodding along. And they were smiling at him now, too, believing that this was a solution they’d come up with together.
Magnus hadn’t even known this audience would take place until last night. He certainly hadn’t brainstormed solutions with Ciara. No, he’d sat in his study half the night, drinking, and thinking about her lips.
“What do ye think?” Ciara asked the villagers.
“I’m cautiously optimistic. If ye can get enough people, I think it’ll work, but it will require ye both to follow through on yer word,” one of the women said, shooting Magnus a piercing glare.
He felt sweat forming on his forehead, but again he just nodded. Could she see through the lie? Did she realize her Laird was nothing more than a imposter propped up by his betrothed?
Magnus knew, and now Ciara did, too.
“I also dinnae want anythin’ like this to happen again,” Ciara added. “I’m thinkin’ there should be some way for ye and the other villagers to regularly air yer grievances before they become so severe, without havin’ to request an audience.”
“Aye, I think everyone will appreciate that,” another woman said.
God, why did I nae think of that?
Everything out of Ciara’s mouth was a solution he should have thought of. He really was a sorry excuse for a Laird. His betrothed had done nothing to make his people suffer, and here she was, figuring out a way to fix this.
He couldn’t let this fall on her shoulders, as capable as they were. This washisproblem. He had caused this suffering to his own people, and he should be the one to fix it.
Ciara looked like she was about to say something else, but Magnus couldn’t take it anymore.
“Why doesnae everyone head to the dining hall? Ye can all get somethin’ to eat before headin’ back,” Magnus cut in harshly.
13
“What was that about?” Ciara asked after the villagers and Ewan had walked out of the study.
They’d been laughing and joking with one another on the way out, and it warmed Ciara to the core to see them experience some semblance of joy again. They would fill their bellies in the dining hall and then hopefully be sent home with enough provisions for the week.
She pictured the women home with their children, gathering around the table for a warm stew for the first time in months, and her heart clenched. It was equally as heartbreaking as it was heartwarming.
“What do ye mean?” Magnus bit out.
