Page 8 of Love’s Charity

Chapter Three

“Are ye warmenough?”

“Shh.” She wiggled around and peered out from the layers of heavy throws. “Ye’ll wake Mistress Hanna,” she whispered, her eyes sparkling in the firelight.

“As much whisky and stew as that woman downed, I dinna think anything will wake her.” Evander lifted his head and peeked at the kindly old crone snuggled deep in the nest of furs and wool blankets they had fixed for her. Her cat slept stretched out next to her, belly up, and front paws politely crossed in midair. They snored in tandem, their faces peaceful with the contentment of full bellies and a warm bed.

“But are ye warm enough, lass?” he repeated, reluctant to sleep and miss a minute of what had turned out to be the most pleasant evening he could remember in a long while.

“Aye, I am fine, thank ye.” Her smile, genuine like she used to give him all the time, heated him faster than a swallow of the MacCoinnich’s best whisky.

“Good,” he answered, almost afraid to say much more. So many harsh words had passed between them, but somehow, whether from weariness or Mistress Hanna’s joyfully thankful demeanor, a delicate peace had finally risen between them. He daren’t say anything that might shatter the sweet absence of hate and accusations.

With a subtle shove, he pushed away the covering of his heavy fur-lined coat, about to swelter after enduring the bitter cold for so long. He had stoked the small hearth with as much fuel as it could bear without catching the soot in the chimney on fire. Marianna had prepared their pallets close enough to enjoy the toasty heat but far enough back to avoid any errant sparks that might pop free of the coals. Between the meal, the whisky, and the smothering warmth, he should be asleep. But it eluded him. He stole another glance at Marianna.

From her alertness, sleep evaded her, too. With her head pillowed on her hands, she stared at him. He tried to ignore it, but her lingering gaze unsettled him. That gentle puckering between her brows never meant anything good.

“If Ellen’s bairn isna yers, why are ye so kind to her? Why do ye help her with everything she needs?”

And there it was. He blew out a heavy sigh, mourning the end of their short-lived peace. Ellen’s name set their conversations ablaze like sparks hitting dry tinder. But she had asked. He had no choice but to answer.

“I dinna help her with everything she needs,” he lamely defended. But with their truce over, he decided to try to explain why he never treated the woman as ill as others did. At least get in as many words as he could before Marianna exploded. “I help her with some things because I feel sorry for her. And for the child.” He kept his focus locked on the ceiling, praying for the words to make Marianna understand. “I remember how my mother struggled with raising me and my two brothers before Ian came along. She cried many a night after tucking us in our beds and bore her suffering alone. Never complaining.”

“But yer mother is a healer. Not a…”

Even though her words trailed off, Evander knew what she hadn’t said. “Nay, my mother was never a whore, but even during the worst of times, she always taught my brothers and me that everyone deserves kindness—even those who are deemed the lowliest. ‘There but by the grace of God go us, Evander,’ she said to me a hundred times if she ever said it once.”

“But Ellen named ye the father of the babe,” Marianna reminded, but softer this time, as though weary of the argument herself.

“I know.” He rolled to his side and fully faced her. “I canna say why she did that. Perhaps, because I am kind to her, and she hoped I would take her in. But I swear to ye, I havena warmed Ellen’s bed nor has she warmed mine since the day I met ye. Her child canna be mine.”

Tossing all caution to the wind, he forged onward. Perhaps a foolish move, but without his lady love, he had nothing left to lose. “I swear I have loved ye from that verra first day, Marianna. When ye showed up at the keep, scairt as a wee rabbit but too stubborn to turn tail and run. I watched ye for days, ye ken? Saw how ye kept to yerself. Looking as though ye feared someone might treat ye ill. But ye never backed away nor ran. ’Twas then I knew I wanted such a braw, fierce woman as my own. Needed ye, in fact.” He held out his hand, praying she would take it. “Please, Marianna. Please find it in yer heart to take what I tell ye as the truth. As God Almighty is my witness, I swear I have never played ye false. Nor would I ever do so.”

With a hesitancy that made him hold his breath, she reached across the space between them and touched her fingertips to his. “Why did ye nay tell me all of this before?”

Before he could bite back the words, they spilled out of him. “When yer temper gets ye going, Mejjy, a man canna get a word in edgewise.” He cringed, waiting for her ire to flash and render a counterattack.

Her eyes narrowed, and the glow from the fire revealed her frown, but she didn’t explode as he expected. “Ye made everyone in the keep think me an empty-headed fool, and ye’re temper is nay so subtle either, ye ken? Every time ye shouted back at me, Ellen laughed and held the babe closer.”

“No one thinks ye an empty-headed fool, Mejjy.” He risked a grin. “They fear ye because ye work harder than ten folk and hardly speak to anyone.” When she didn’t respond, he continued. “They’ve called me a damned fool, and they are right.” He caught her hand and held it before she could draw it back. “I am a damned fool who loves ye more than ye will ever believe.” He shrugged, silently begging her to believe him. “I always will, Mejjy.”

She lowered her gaze. Her lashes cast shadows across her fair cheeks, and he thought he detected the shine of tears. “I am sorry,” she whispered.

His heart fell, but he understood. Too much harshness had passed between them, and their problems had played out too publicly. She could never set it all aside and join her life with his. “I understand,” he rasped out, forcing the words past the knot in his throat.

Her eyes flared open wide, and she swiped the tears from her cheek. “Ye understand what?” She propped herself up on one elbow.

“I understand why ye willna marry me.”

“Did I say I wouldna marry ye? I merely said I was sorry.”

He blinked. Women were such complicated creatures. “What?”

“I am sorry for all the harsh things I said. And for throwing things at ye in front of everyone.” She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and glanced downward again, looking guilty as a bairn caught stealing treats. “And for tossing yer favoritesgian dhudown the garderobe hole.” She mumbled the last part so fast he almost didn’t catch it.

“I wondered what became of that dagger.” But none of that mattered. She had said, or almost said, she would marry him. “So, ye will be my wife?”

She shifted with a quiet snort and smiled. “Aye. If ye can bear it.”

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