Page 33 of The Cruel Highlander's Bride
Ciara studied him closely. His jaw was clenched, and his eyes were cold. His tension quickly doused the excitement she’d been feeling over that victory. They had a plan—a damn good one, as far as she was concerned.
But the Laird’s mood was dampening hers. His eyes were clouded with tension and something else, something she couldn’t read yet.
“Why did ye cut me off, and why did ye send them all to the dinin’ hall?” she asked. “We were makin’ good progress with them. I think we have a real chance to help them.”
“Yehave a real chance to help them,” the Laird grumbled as he looked away, avoiding her question.
“So that’s the problem, then? Ye just want to be the hero?” she scoffed. “Do ye need some recognition, Me Laird?”
Magnus bolted out of his chair and crossed the room, his arms stiff at his sides.
His study was a stark contrast to his chambers. Rather than the opulent colors and fabrics, the room was all dark wood and muted tones. She wondered if it was the former Laird’s influence rather than Magnus’s.
She watched him pace the room before he finally threw his arms up and said, “Nay.”
“Well, if that is nae it, I dinnae understand what this is about!” she exclaimed.
The Laird shifted his gaze back to her. He took a few threatening steps in her direction until he stood directly in front of her. Ciara stayed seated, holding his turbulent gaze, and did not back down. Instead, she raised an eyebrow tauntingly.
“This isnae yer fight!” Magnus finally snapped, pushing away from her. He took a deep breath and started again. “This isnae yer problem to solve. I got me people into this situation, and I can get them out,” he grunted.
Ciara, too, took a deep breath, some of her anger ebbing with his explanation. “They are me people now, too, Magnus.”
“I ken,” he muttered.
“And I want to help them,” she insisted, wanting him to understand that they were a team now. That she could share this burden.
“Ye shouldnae have to!”
“Well, that’s nae who I am, Magnus. When I agreed to marry ye, I agreed to be the lady of this clan, and that means somethin’ to me,” she argued.
Magnus just grumbled a little under his breath.
“And ye didnae start this war. Ye ended it—weended it,” Ciara added.
The Laird seemed so set on doing things on his own and carrying the full weight of his father’s sins. But that wasn’t going to work for Ciara—she wasn’t one to sit in the background and let the men handle things. She had ideas and thoughts, and she planned to express them.
Besides they were not their parents, so they did not need to bear the weight of their mistakes. She wished she could shake this concept into him.
“I didnae even ken about it!” he finally exclaimed. “I wanted nothin’ to do with me faither’s clan until I came to kill him. Do ye get that? I was fine livin’ with me maither until she told me what truly happened, before she died. Even then, when it was all over and he was dead, I wanted nothin’ to do with these people—this clan!”
Magnus was unraveling in front of her, and she had so many questions, but she kept them to herself, letting him continue.
“For a year!” he growled, throwing his arms up again. “Me people were starvin’ and dyin’ for a year, and I didnae even ken the clan was at war! What kind of Laird doesnae ken somethin’ like that?”
He was breathing harshly. He swore and turned away from her, his hands pulling at his hair. She felt his heart breaking for his clanspeople and all they’d lost, and her own heart clenched at the sight of him so distraught, so unlike the unflappable man she had come to know.
“Ye didnae ken,” she said softly, focusing on the one part of his speech that was clear. “Ye are still figurin’ it all out, Magnus. And ye didnae ken. Ye cannae blame yerself for this.”
“I can.” He exhaled roughly.
“Well, I cannae, and the villagers cannae either.”
Ciara’s tone left no room for argument. She would not let this man sit here and bear the guilt for this war. Both of their fathers played a role in starting and continuing the feud, but they were not responsible for their fathers’ actions.
They could only control their own actions and the future they would build. And that started today, with healing the hurt their families had caused to their people.
“They may have forgiven ye, but they certainly blame me still,” he whispered.
